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Dhaka Day by Day

For Some Quiet and Peace

bj Tasneem Mosaddeq
I remember when we were kids, visiting relatives in Dhanmondl or Gulshan was always like a picnic for us. These areas with their greenery, lakes and open spaces had the peaceful ambience of a village. The only sound that we heard then were the musical chirping of birds and sometimes the cry of a lone fox deep in the night. Of course, the ting-a-llng of the ice cream man, the bell of the rickshaws passing by or the occasional hum of a car engine reminded us, we were very much in the metropolis.
Dhanmondl had a unique charm of Its own. Houses with their big compounds and high walls encompassed private worlds. Yet these very secluded properties blanded with general scenery when children came out to play in the evenings. Though, there was not much social interaction but the neighbours knew each other, they exchanged pleasantries after the Friday prayer and congregated when there was birth, death or wedding in the neighbourhood. We used have bike races on the streets and pebble throwing competition at the lake.
With nostalgia gushing forth I accepted a relative’s invitation to stay with them for a few days at their Dhanmondl residence. Their house, built al the Inception of this residential area, stands by the lake. And from the first floor
verandah one gets a good view of the lake and the surroundings. The huge rain tree with branches spread like a green canopy rustled gracefully in the breeze and I settled down to enjoy mother nature in one of her many colours. But the mood soon vanished when I looked closely at the lake. The azure sky. the lush trees and the murky water of the lake didn't harmonise. This lake used to be clear blue, but now it is muddy: a rotting grey-green colour, garbage floating in from all directions. And when it rains a suffocating stench rises from its depths. At the point where the lake narrows It looks more like a sewerage now. Disappointed but not disheartened, I decided to discover the Dhanmondl or my childhood with a morning walk the next day.
Light hadn’t yet penetrated the eastern sky when 1 was startled by the desperate mooing of a cow. from the street below. The cow's incessant cries breaking the blissful pre-dawn silence was nerve wrecking. So. Instead of going back to sleep. 1 dressed and went down for the much planned walk. A few steps down the street 1 found myself passing through a mobile dairy farm. Cows and calves of various sizes and colours were carelessly tied along both sides of the street. Some were being fed while others were being milked. The odour from dung, urine and mud overpowered the subtle fragrances of early morning blossoms. And I wondered, whatever happened to the norms and regulations of residential areas. Surely, public spaces couldn't be used In this manner. The cows belong to some of the residents here who crave for fresh milk everyday Weil, they could turn thetr own homes into dairy farms. Instead of spoiling public plain and creating a nuisance tn general. Just the other day I overheard a gentleman declare, be would be moving to Dhanmondl. though the rents are higher there but he would be able to keep cows and it is a small price to pay for fresh milk, malal and ghee. The area where he was residing did not have any space out side the house and there weren't any parks either to run a private dairy. This sort of attitude cannot really be blamed because public amenities in residential areas are realty in dire straits. The street where my relative stays and most of the streets In Dhanmondl for that matur arc in a miserable condition. Though some of the main streets have been paved, carpeted and proper sidewalks added but the rest of the streets are in a sorry state of neglect. tor pedestrians the streets are a nightmare. f one is lucky enough to avoid
stepping in mud. cow dung or the garbage that is mostly scattered on the streets rather than thrown in the bln, the pothole are not so easy to dodge. To say nothing about the muddy splashes from a speeding car. So. I called quits to the morning walk.
Daylight brought a procession of hawkers. As children we would mimic their Interesting calls. Hawkers in those days had Individual style of calls to attract attention. Sometimes these were lyrical and othcrtlmcs Just an incomprehensible shout, but never Irritating. The present day banal cries of 'Murgi Murgi". "Moori Moori" or "Mach Mach" certainly doesn't stir anyone's curiousity. The cacophony created by the hawkers becomes so unbearable that we try to get rid of them from our Immediate vicinity by declining their wares even though these items need to be replenished urgently.
Well, the hawkers were easy to tackle and I sit down with my morning cuppa and the paper for some quite moments in the day which had begun so noisily. 1 had just taken my first sip when the ear shattering honks from a passing car jolts me from my chair, spilling tea and everything. Cars, Jeeps, mini buses even trucks are speeding by interminably, spewing exhausts, blaring horns and spattering mud and dirt.
OU1I
By midmorning the rush on the streets had abated somewhat and I thought at last we will have some peace. But then it was time for the cars from driving schools to make their entry. The instructors and students took maximum advantage of the nearly empty streets and then the sound of screeching brakes and heated engines was added to that of honking horns. Only for a brief hour or so\n the afternoon the streets looked deserted, for then ft was too hot for anyone to stir out of the shade.
Evening was a repetition of the morning rush hour mayhem, so I decided to go up on the roof to get away from it all. They view from first floor rooftop was quite limited because of the apartment blocks that were raising their heads all around. Dhanmondl has recently joined the era of apartment building, which had dawned over Dhaka with a sudden nourish. Therefore, houses were either taken down or lawns and gardens, converted Into brick and cement structure providing habitation for more people Thank God for the restriction imposed on the height of these apartment blocks especially In I Gulshan and Dhanmondl. Otherwise, the sky would literally have become the limit for the enthusiastic builders.
I wondered what the children did In the evenings Apartments didn't have much space at ground level for, them to play, streets arc too hazardous and parks arc grazing fields for the cows and sleeping places for the beggars. Living shoulder to shoulder people do not know each other and are not concerned with their civic rights and responsibilities. Recounting my experiences in Dhanmondl. I commented to a friend who resides in Banani that probably she Is much belter off. After, all that part of Banani Is relatively less congested She gave me a rueful smile and showed the slum that la spreading along the lake there, just outside her wall. Your relatives' she said should be grateful for at least they get to see the lake and trees, over here I I only git to view the dis null sight of humanity Another friend has decided to move to the top floor of the talkst apartment block. Since, he alone cannot change the status quo. he can at least escape by shutting out the din and pollution once he Is inside his flat — far up from the mosquito. files and the maddening crowd below. I wish him luck and feel sad at the slow and gradual decay of this beautiful city of ours Where has all the public awareness gone? If we try. concerted efforts can surely bring about some positive change