Ruhul Amin’s Story

The streets of Dhaka looked far from festive last night. The eerie
glow of the sodium lamps lit the mounted police and their dogs. There
were said to be 5000 in the streets. The barbed wire barricades and
the stop searches, put a damper on the marauding young men prowling
the streets, but the packed dance floor at the Gulshan Club seemed
unaffected by it all. The TSC corner at Dhaka University, on the
other hand, was an all male affair. The police presence was not
reassuring enough for women to enter the macho fray.

As I opened the greeting cards that wished me well for the new
season, I kept remembering how different was Eid for the Afghans from
Christmas for the US Marines.

I remembered my delight as a child, when we would look out of the
rooftops for the new moon. We would bathe early in the morning and go
out with our friends, all decked in our new clothes. Alert to the
idea that a few smart salaams could net some extra pocket money.

For Ruhul Amin, in this story by the children of Out of
Focus "Season's Greetings" perhaps has more to do with going back
home to the village, than with Christianity or Islam, or the
celebration of Bangla or Chinese identity.

"I was born in Mirpur, Dhaka, and I have grown up here. When I was 8
or 9 years old, I went to my village home for the very first time. I
loved it there. I met my grandparents from my mother's and my
father's side, and they were very happy to see me. So I asked my
mother, why did you leave everybody here and move to the city?

In the coming days, I wish for you and I, and Ruhul Amin and the
children of Out of Focus, less murderous and warmongering leaders.

Shahidul Alam

Tue Jan 1, 2002