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Saadeya in Bangladesh

North Kensington, via Sudan and Bangladesh.

Born and brought up in North Kensington, West London, with no close relations living near by, growing up I felt somewhat detached from Bengali culture and my extended family in Bangladesh. My parents, both of mixed heritage, had diverse roots in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Sudan, and after English often spoke Urdu at home with us (Bengali was their third language), but both were raised at various points in the capital city of Dhaka (originally spelt Dacca) while the country was still India and later East Pakistan. A decade after it became Bangladesh in 1971, my father brought my mother to London upon marriage, where he had been studying to become a barrister. They were the only siblings from their respective families to settle in the UK.

Small child on the street

My memories of the city and its people in 1992 as a seven year old were more vivid than those during my first trip at the age of three, particularly as my unfamiliarity with the Bengali language meant I struggled to communicate. As someone who always wanted to have my say, I found it a very frustrating experience. As the years passed, my recollection of the curious stares that only foreigners evoke, the fascinating bazaars, and my wonder at rickshaws became distant. However, it was the images of poverty and destitution I had witnessed on the streets that both haunted and humbled me; the social depravation in London was incomparable to what I had seen in Dhaka. I found these images both compelling and hard to comprehend, and it was this that had such a profound effect on me; it was my initiation into the real world.

As I grew older I learnt more about Bengali traditions here in London through family friends who were ‘proper Bengali’, and my understanding of the language strengthened as I paid more attention to my parents speaking on the phone to relatives back home. As my cousins in Dhaka were also being educated in English, it became much easier to interact with them.

Wedding gifts

Then, last Autumn, my family received an invite to my cousin’s wedding to take place in February. Having passed up numerous opportunities to visit Bangladesh, I resolved to attend with my father. I had three precious weeks to rediscover the city and renew familial relationships.Ìý

Traffic chaos

The physical state of the roads have also vastly improved, but the one thing I could not adjust to during my time there was the congestion. London traffic is a tranquil stroll in Richmond’s Kew Gardens in comparison to Dhaka’s central roads. Picture the reckless abandon of London cyclists, multiply it by 10 and then apply to ALL road users- public and motorists alike, and you’ll begin to comprehend what its like.

Preparing dinner

The magic of travelling through central Dhaka at night is another true treat to behold, and an experience I won’t forget. Vendors line the pavements with mini food-stalls while their kerosene lamps acting as street lights add an otherworldly ambience to the humid streets and huddled customers.

Wedding preparations

Anyone familiar with South Asian culture is aware of the importance placed on weddings, even the simplest affairs appear lavish to the average Western bystander. My cousin’s numerous ceremonies observed all the cultural traditions, which I experienced first hand. This included the bride’s female relatives being decorated with mhendi (henna) and receiving gifts of sweets and saris from the groom’s family. The occasion was also the perfect excuse to acquire a stylish South Asian wardrobe for a fraction of the price it would have cost me in London.

Saadeya on the farm

Mosquito Coast.

Having evaded mosquitoes during my first week, my smug satisfaction came to a halt when I was unsuspectingly bitten the following two weeks by the critters at any given opportunity. However, it was a small price to pay; I endeavoured to make the most of my short time in Bangladesh and my mosquito phobia was not going to change that. Alongside wedding engagements I spent one weekend on the golden sands of Cox’s Bazaar’s beach, visited an orphanage and vocational training centre in the village of Kumradi in Narsingdi, and fed baby goats on my uncle’s agriculture farm in the rural district of Gazipur.

Curzon Hall

Once you see past the pollution and the dust on the streets have settled, the real gems of Dhaka dazzle and emerge in places you’d least expect. Like other metropolises, it offers a juxtaposition to its visitors; the old and new, the calm and mayhem exist side by side. Dhaka University, the oldest in Bangladesh, is a perfect example of this; its tranquil green grounds house the famous Lord Curzon Hall, with its breathtaking architecture. Just beyond the campus’ wrought iron gates the city comes alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life.

Student bookstore

Long lost friend.

As I prepared to return to London I was sad to be leaving; it was like running into a long lost friend- a few hours is not sufficient time in which to catch up. Similarly, my three weeks soon came spinning to an end, and I was only scratching the surface of this amazing city. As I waved goodbye to relatives and boarded my plane I knew one thing was for sure, there was no way another fifteen years would elapse before I came back; I’m already planning my next trip for the summer.