DHAKA: The First Few Days
Dhaka, from the plane, looked like a patchwork quilt of green and white with faint dark lines running through the fabric. We alighted from the plane with a sense of trepidation and excitement. Dhaka International airport had none of the shining abundance of shops and duty free outlets of other airports across the world. It was quieter, rather self- effacing and rather easy to navigate. The Immigration officer waved my family over with a smile and I entered the city of Dhaka.
I realised, with a pang, that this was no vacation. We were leaving India for the first time, to live in another country. I have travelled overseas extensively and have lived across different cities in India but creating a home in a new country was something quite different. If anyone had told me six months ago, that I would be living in Dhaka, I would have scoffed. Yet, there I was driving through city that is to be my home for the next few years. As the main road from the airport gave way to narrow streets that swelled in noise and bustle, I slowly took in my surroundings.
“It is not like Gurgaon at all,” sighed my daughter, an ardent devotee of the concrete and glass buildings and malls of our previous home. Dhaka was like an older city, flatter, greener with alternating spaces of noise and silence. When faced with a strange new experience, we comfort ourselves by looking for the familiar.
In the three weeks that I have been here, I have found much that seems comforting. There was even a certain sense of home - in the beggars who ran run up to our car, the hawkers peddling pirated English bestsellers at the traffic signals, in the warm brown faces of the people who thronged the narrow roads, the anarchic chaos of the traffic that magically gave way to a certain order. The quiet inner streets of Gulshan and Baridhara, the small roadside kiosks selling bead and bananas, the curving coconut trees and the warm moist breeze, are all redolent of another time, another place. Dhaka reminds me of Chennai, my home town, a place I associate with my adolescent years, with growing up and finding my roots.
Yet, this alternates with the new, the unexpected – the colourful shining rickshaws that deftly weave in through the crush of cars, the bill boards in a new language, a sudden splash of gulmohar flowers and roads that are known by numbers instead of names. The unfamiliar currency in my purse, a language which I can only comprehend partially, the undecipherable number plates on cars, the friendly greetings of 'Salaam Aleikum' - these tell me that I am in a new land. Even as I am disturbed by the constant churning of car and people, shocked by the steep prices at supermarkets, I am also pleasantly surprised by the promptness and friendliness of service providers and the easy availability of most of my daily needs.
Dhaka, with its unique blend of the familiar and strange, is a place to explore. I have seen only a small part of this city. I look forward to new experiences and new friends. I will take it as it comes and hope for the thrill of discovery, for serendipity in unlikely places.
Nirupama Subramanian is the author of 'Intermission' and 'Keep The Change'. This article was first printed in the Varta newsletter.
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