Dhaka Diary (October 24th – November 6th, 2009)

The first thing that strikes you about Dhaka is its traffic jams – therefore, it takes time to make an impression on you. Eventually I did find several takeaways from my visit to Dhaka, but it definitely started with my wondering at its humungous traffic jams. It was amazing – there are not really that many vehicles as such, the roads are wide, but traffic jams at any time of the day! Incredible! The swank new luxury Toyotas (appears to be a Bangladeshi preferred brand, and most of the cars appeared new) alongwith absolutely ramshackle rickshaws vie for space in their naturally demarcated lanes on account of their speeds. In between you see a few rundown autorickshaws (with lockable cages for drivers but not for passengers – I wonder why). There is a sprinkling of taxis, in particular, Maruti 800s and Indicas, in a shockingly battered condition. There are hardly any motorcycles, which surprised me. There are of course, several pedestrians, who can still walk on the roads, unlike in Hyderabad or in any other major city in India, particularly after the advent of the ‘infrastructural development’ phenomenon called flyovers. The vehicular composition and condition defines the social classes in Dhaka – the very rich and the very poor – but alarmingly with no sign of a vibrant middle class. There are quite a few traffic lights, with more than one policeman manning the point to physically stop vehicles from moving at the right time for the other side of the traffic. The traffic lights are either not operated at all, or operated manually. In any case, all drivers only look for directions from the policemen, and the lights and the traffic are usually off each other very many times. But nobody is perturbed; they are busy honking away to glory. After many trips, I decided that one of the main reasons for the traffic jams is the very long duration of stoppage at the traffic lights and that backstops and gridlocks many of the busy intersections. But of course, real logistics researchers and planners would put that down to the presence of the multi speed-multi modal transport I suppose.
Well, we tried to avoid the worst part of the jams by going early in the morning (leaving at 7.30 am Dhaka time!), and coming back around 3 or 4 pm. That was another thing – colleagues ridiculed me in Hyderabad when I informed them that the time differential between IST and Dhaka is 1.30 hours and not 30 minutes only. They swore by the well known fact that Bangladesh is 30 minutes ahead and Pakistan is 30 minutes behind. Now I hope they laugh on the other side of their faces. (In fact, the half an hour time gap comes because we chose Delhi as the dateline rather than a convenient median. So we have these half hour calculations whereas for most countries it is by the hour on hour). Dhaka changed to daylight savings since June and Dhaka people are yet to get used to it. I understand that it is mainly because of the electricity problem. It is interesting to note that even now, both timings are maintained - if you fix an appointment, you are asked if it is by the normal time or the digital time! Actually, it makes sense to have daylight savings time zones in India – it always seemed such a waste of daylight time in the mornings, especially in the summer season in the entire North east, while winters seemed so gloomy and scary in the mid afternoon itself! Anyway – it is a huge task. We understand that Dhaka’s experiment is still in a nascent stage of acceptance and is not that well followed beyond Dhaka. For us, this meant getting up at 4.30 am India time and having breakfast at 5.30 am! Our daily route provided us a cross section of Dhaka vignettes. We coursed through the diplomatic enclave of Baridhara where we had our hotel - Asia Pacific Blossom Hotel – incidentally, there are many facilities that are named after Asia Pacific or Pan Pacific (including Pan Pacific Sonargaon Hotel) and somehow, it appeared more contrived than natural. It is definitely a strategic choice for Bangladesh, being sandwiched between the two giants India and China and the term Pacific does give a larger than life importance I presume.
Our hotel was very near the US Embassy and the Canadian Embassy and inevitably, we did see the ‘American Visa’ queues early morning, though surprisingly, nowhere near Indian gargantuan proportions. We then go meandering through the various ins and outs of the posh residential areas of Gulshan I and Gulshan II, picking up a couple of FAO officers in the large Toyota (but of course!). These two Gulshans are the Jubilee & Banjara Hills of Hyderabad and one wonders why such large areas have been named as I and II. It appeared to us that no matter how much you travelled, you were still either near Gulshan I and Gulshan II! On the way, we passed the Indian Embassy and here the crowds were huge. There is a great deal of travel to India – business and medical largely, followed by visiting relatives in the other Bengal. The large queues, at the first instance gave a sense of pride as India was a more preferred destination than the US; almost immediately we realized that these long and pathetic queues with no covering and facilities whatsoever were indeed not very complimentary to our consulate, irrespective of the work involved and the precautions to be taken. For education, it appears that Bangladeshis are showing preference to Australia, Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand.
En route we see several showrooms of cars – all luxury models. We see a huge number of banks – for such a small country, the number of banks puzzled me and it indicates the very rich status of the upper crust (there were 30 listed banks in the share market). Then we see the armies of garment factory workers rushing in droves from nearby rail and bus stations to their work. All young women aged perhaps between 18-30, and an occasional older woman. Why? What happens when they get married and have children? They lose their income? What is the minimum wage – surprisingly, no one, even those from the government, could answer this question of ours – perhaps there is no minimum wage specified. There was an air of purpose in them, they were not grim, but I certainly found the giggling camaraderie normally found in such groups conspicuous by its absence. Is it such a tough life? I do not know and did not get enough information on this for precisely for the same reason that we do not know how people live in the slums of Mumbai or the problems of our maids in our homes. We get mechanical about many things and we do not notice I suppose.
Going on, we plough through Kawran Bazar –the wholesale market. Actually –it is mainly fish, fish and fish. I did not see many vegetables as such. It is only here that you can actually see certain plastic containers (innovative bucket type containers hanging on the underside of the rickshaws to avoid spillage and spoiling of the seat) – in no other place in Dhaka, did we encounter plastic. It is indeed amazing for a developing country to do away with plastic, be it because of the ever rampaging cyclones or whatever. There is no plastic even in the smallest of the shops. They started implementing the no plastic rule about six years back and it is a total success, at least in Dhaka and its surroundings which we could visit. Well of course, Bangladeshis themselves are least impressed by their feat and hardly take any pride in it. It has become part of their life. I asked about reasons for success – no one seems to be able to give any concrete answer except that Government banned it and police used to harass people till they stopped. There has to be more than this I think – the Bangladeshi people are more willing to abide by government rules – otherwise how do we explain the utter callousness with which we still use plastic in Mumbai despite the horrendous deluge? Or why in Hyderabad, despite government rule and police harassment, we still do not wear helmets or seat belts?? And Bangladeshis appear completely unaware and apathetic to this feat that they have achieved which even developed nations have been unable to enforce in such a large measure. Plastic manufacturing is also banned and there are grumblings in certain elite quarters that garbage disposal bags have to be brought it from Thailand or Malaysia. However, it is another thing about public smoking – I did not realize how much we in India have achieved till I got the full blast of passive smoking in Dhaka. They do have awareness messages on this, but it does not appear to have made an impact. Maybe a government rule would have an impact in Bangladesh?
Even at 7.30 am (digital time!), Kawran Bazaar was a slow manoevre – rickshaws, hawkers occupying half the road as pavements were used for vehicle parking, people with creels on their heads, and traffic coming on the wrong side as well and then, suddenly you find that at the end of the road, you are looking at the cleaning of the entrance of the Pan Pacific Sonargaon Hotel! An intriguing location choice I must say! After this brief interlude with the commoners, we again enter the thoroughfare of Dhaka.
The Prime Minister’s office and residence are huge and impressive British colonial structures, amid (thankfully) a large expanse of greenery. The Osmani Auditorium, the Supreme Court, and the Jamai Masjid, were all housed in such large expanses of greenery and together with the huge park (reminiscent of the famed parks of London), give our eyes, nose and ears, a welcome respite from the cacophony of Kawran Bazar. The building of the Department of Architecture was unimpressive and the assumption that a little bit of angularity in the design qualifies it to be different and therefore architecturally stylistic, offended my aesthetic sensibilities.
Well this was our daily route for weekdays. On the weekend, it was time for sightseeing and friends visiting. Again, I was stumped by the lack of enthusiasm and pride in regard to telling visitors what they need to see. Very casually they mention the martyrs’ memorial and the Banga Bandhu Museum and stop at that, as if they might be accused of sending you to places that are not actually worth visiting. Even when I asked about Sonargaon, an ancient city off Dhaka, no one was forthcoming with any encouragement. Fortunately, I had enough information from Sohini and we made plans with two others to visit Sonargaon. I had read up on Sonargaon and so had Firdausi. I read about its ancient flourishing as the capital of Deva dynasty and the origin of the East India Company here. I also read about the architectural heritage sites of the old buildings of the zamindars, who left the place and fled to West Bengal. Firdausi had information about the oldest and most famous Madarasa and the tomb of Riyasuddin. Interesting. For Firdausi, it was a kind of personal pilgrimage as one of his ancestors meditated here in a dargah in the 13th century.
The funny part of the trip is that the travels driver who was taking us, had no clue on any of the locations, despite being in the travel business for ages. He also had to ask for the way. We had wrongly assumed that since it was Friday, the road would be free – far from it, the road was jammed, but according to the driver, it was nothing compared to weekday traffic. God forbid if we have to travel on a weekday! We crossed a couple of rivers and could find out the name of only one – the Sheetolokkha. Always, there is an apathy for information and consciousness. There are so many rivers in Bangladesh (about 60-70), probably, people generally refer to them as rivers I think, without bothering to remember their names.
When we got into Sonargaon, nobody could tell us what to do or what to look for. We asked for old buildings and then someone very deprecatingly pointed us the way. The lane consisted of a few elaborately ornate buildings, which were purportedly under conservation. Some of them were illegally occupied from the rearside. The whole row of buildings was in a pathetic state of disrepair. We visited a 100 room zamindari haveli and found that it also had tunnels. The entire site was called Panam City - I do not know why and nobody could enlighten us on the same. We visited the state museum – a small one – it had many 18th and 19th century artefacts and a few from the 13th century. There was also a crafts village created by a few stalls in a circle, mostly small handicrafts and the omnipresent Tangail and Jamdani sarees. There were a couple of demo looms being worked upon. What shocked me was that a couple of really small children were working on them, despite the village being a government run facility.
On the roadside, there were coconuts and a very interesting way of offering wood apple to eat. A hole in bored at the top of the fruit from where the fruit attaches itself to the branch and a thin wooden sliver is used like a spatula and the pulp inside is mashed, a little salt and pepper added and mixed again. You have to use the spatula to pry out the pulp and lick it. It takes a while to completely eat it and it is a delightful and eco friendly serving. I loved it. All along the village, we saw numerous water sources. Each house had its own kitchen garden. The entire complement of fish, nutritious greens, pumpkins, olives and other vegetables in every household, should not actually give room for malnourishment; however, many in the rural areas are indeed malnourished owing to the low quantities consumed. The evidence of goiter in some women in the village made me appreciate our own sustained efforts of enriching salt with iodine for the eradication of goiter in our own villages in India. The emphasis appears to be on increasing food production per se and assuming that if production side is taken care of, everything else would follow. Nutrition and increased production are not necessarily complementary to each other.
The trip back was quite a pain, the car kept stopping and the AC would not work, we were too thankful that we actually reached back our hotel. Back to civilization with tissues, first brought in a sneeze – in Bangladesh, all tissues are perfumed, some thankfully mild, but others as strong as the perfume Poison! It is quite a new experience to feel refreshed through perfumes!
Now it was our turn to partake of Bangladeshi hospitality. It takes quite a stomach – the done thing in Bangladeshi homes is to put out a lavish spread with two different kinds of meat, prawns, shrimps and three different kinds of fish. It is difficult for them to cater to vegetarians, though their vegetarian dishes are also very good. However, they feel happy if you have their fish, particularly the ‘Ileesh from Poddo’, or the Hilsa fish from Padma river (the Ganges as called in Bangladesh). Lobster is another great delicacy, while their Pomfrets and shrimps are cooked delectably. The old world charm of ‘khatirdari’ or guest etiquette continues to exist despite the pressures of modern day world, including gifting of clothes when you are leaving. However, in general, fried things were quite the staple and this also explains the acidity incidence in Bangladeshis, compounded by red meat – particularly beef. There is not a single meal of the day without meat or fish.
For one of the dinners, we tried to reach the place ourselves and had a taste of Bangladeshi addresses. Even now I cannot understand how a road called 9A can go straight for a while, then cross a main thoroughfare and then turn perpendicular and then again go behind on a parallel road! We wasted nearly 30 minutes for just this part. En route we had a glimpse of the beautiful Parliament Building built by Louis Kann. Preeti informed me later on phone that Le Corbusier and Louis Kann built Chandigarh and Dhaka almost around the same time as modern cities. New Dhaka is built on lands that were paddy fields a few decades ago. The parliament building’s architecture itself is beautiful and is enhanced by the way in which entire building gives the impression of emerging from water. The roads from the Parliament building and its surroundings are wide and well planned. In our travels, we experienced the troubles and travails of travelling in a rickshaw, with its precarious definition of centre of gravity and a great faith in the splendid brakes of Toyotas to save their lives, the roaring and sputtering of the ramshackle autorickshaws, which think nothing of bumping other autos as they are anyway run down, and the pathetic taxis – some of them are called Baby taxis (so women should not feel horrified if there are people chasing after you calling you baby, baby!). It was not a very pleasant experience, and I say this without a hint of snobbishness. We desisted from trying out the bus. So we went to places only if a chauffeur driven vehicle was available, because we could not take the traffic in any other mode. Interestingly, distance is measured in ‘kilos’, the same way we use the term for weight.
Most of our Bangladeshi hosts were Muslims, but it is their ‘Bengaliness’ that strikes you most. Bangladeshis are Bengalis first and Muslims later. Their love of their distinct identity, their love of culture, music and arts dominate their psyche. Islam is a demanding religion that requires total submission of its believers while annihilating the believers’ entire roots to substitute completely with that of the land of Mohammed. It is not an easy thing and it is in Bangladesh that this is not as much in evidence as it is other cultures. Firdausi tried to help people understand the meanings of their Islamic names – some were interested, most others were simply polite. They related to each other mostly with culture rather than with religion. I hope that this bond is strong enough to last a few more centuries. Wearing bindis is also common and I was thankful to see that it is not considered as a religious symbol.
Yet another world we witnessed was the confluence of the International guests In Bangladesh. They have their own little alcoves and a couple of Clubs catering to recreation of their own cuisine and camaraderie. Bangladesh, as mentioned earlier, has many international aid agencies working in the country. A single agency had as many as 60 projects on its own, apart from all other agencies. Business also is strong with Koreans, Chinese having a good presence. There are many eateries of different cuisines here and we were introduced to the delightful Teppanyaki cooking of Koreans, whose vegetarian fare was surprisingly wonderful and signed off with a heavenly cinnamon tea.
In every city, the minority population lives in the old city. I had my glimpse of this when I went to old Dhaka and the Sahakari Bazaar. Like in any other old city, the lanes were narrow and the ghetto like living is very evident. Dhakeshwari Mandir is the typical Kali mandir, but also hosts many other deities for the convenience of devotees. As usual, there is that haunting emotional stares when they see Hindus from India, some overcome them and come and talk to you.
The Red Fort is a much better preserved monument, but nothing seems to open in Dhaka before 11 am. It is however, small as compared to the big forts that we are normally used to.
Quality of goods in Bangladesh was not of a high order, though it is called as a nation of Bazaars. The gym machinery at the hotel was Chinese and the quality left much to be desired – I used it just for 4 days, at least to use my new gym clothes bought from my clothing allowance, if not for anything else. So I could not get rid of the additional kilos that I gained there eating all the fried stuff. We also visited the newest mall off the block called Bashundhara. It is a glorified Dhaka Bazaar and not the typical mall that we are used to in terms of stores, brands, merchandise quality and variety and the type of crowd. Still, it is the most happening thing in the retail revolution of Bangladesh. It is again location wise in the most horrendously traffic jam area – I simply do not understand the logic.
Dhaka is a cacophony of cultures, intriguing and depressing at the same time – the same kind of hopelessness you would feel in one of our typical North Indian cities – not much difference in terms of attitudes and practices. Bangladesh is divided into two categories of people – those who love India and those who do not like it. I learnt to speak a little Bengali in that, that I started saying ‘ba’ where ‘va’ should be used, ‘sh’ where ‘s’ should be used and ‘o’ wherever ‘a’ is to be used. And also learnt to say ‘alpo alpo boojhte paarbo’ and to respond to name Kinnori!