I love December for very many reasons. Every morning your body revolts with your mind as you reluctantly drag yourself out of the warmth of your blanket. The alarm clock wakes you up from slumber quite literally, with an alarm! (Nobody asked you to set it at 6:30 am?)

You shiver and reconcile that it is past yoor wake up lime and. therefore go head-on into trying to catch up your early morning classes, assignments. work — or whatever it is that you do for a living or occupation.

People polluting whatever is left of the stale fresh air by smoking cigarettes, and automobiles belching black soot into the sky. You go to wherever you are studying or working. looking smarter than usukl because you are wearing sweaters, blazers, suits - whatever. and yes. you are relaxed, just as everybody around you because nobody sweats profusely in December. In essence there is nothing smelly or awful about December!

Come afternoon, when the sun comes blazing down mercilessly. you unwillingly unsmarten yourself, by pulling of the pullover, loosening your Ue. but before 4 pm. you feel the need for warmth, and again you smarten yourself up. Evenings there is really so much to do atleast for me. I have an Infectiously dynamic zest for Iffe, and therefore consider December as the party month of the year'. Everybody Is partying down in Gulshan. Baridhara. DOHS or Uttara

Mobile discotheques rigged up like miracle, in Chinese restaurants, where groups of people are dancing the night away. Weddings are almost a

boring daily ritual.* where you end up over eating Katcchht Birtyani. and gulping Borhanl etc. (Everything that you want for blood cholesterol or a rounded waist line!) This December started on some very good notes.

Note* from my diary of special •vonts:

Sth December 1»M: It is not my perfect idea of a party when political parties plan a party of their own! Reasons they are. a) Boring. They have one theme Put me Into power - And 1 promise you a great time which is usually what they don't mean.

b) Too long drawn out sometimes they can go on for 48 hours or more

c) As they live in a time warp, they don't know how ip party and think peoples idea of fun is to be locked in voluntarily at homes, away from friends or family and watch videos or Zee TV. or worse sleeping it

d) They can be very violent and sometimes lead to deaths I believe selfishly in self preservation and value my life far too much to die for a political party or politician, all In the name of a Party!

For above reasons. I had to ' regret attendance to join the historical' and 'hysterical' party that they so sensibly planned for the 7th and 8th of December. Inviting the whole country to join in. I fled to Calcutta! At the airport It was heartening to note that. I was

not the only one to ditch the upcoming party Both Biman and Indian Airlines were heavily over booked, and Biman in deed had an extra flight. Four flights on a single day ?

An airline colleague said, you should have seen the rush to Bangkok and Singapore ear Iler on'. The airport was a chaotic mess, fa normal thing when flights arc overbooked)

and I spied an old friend of mine desperately 'looking around for ’someone who has promised him a seat on the flight. He was on the waitlist Minutes before the flight took off. my friend indeed was on the flight and a seat he did get: a jump seat i.e. the one re

served for the air hostess! I did not realise my wife would be the most embarrassed when 1 wondered aloud to my friend. Is the airhostess going to be on your lap for take-off. I don't mind changing seats with you. pal ?’!!

Evening at Calcutta, straight

into a bridal party’ of my friend Sandip. 1 met other friends. Prodip has a beautiful girl named Anuradha in low. She Is officially' his wife, but socially' his fiance. They plan on having their social wedding sometimes after the New Years. It was a great evening.

10th December 1994: I was in Bombay to attend the annual party of the company 1 work for. A party out Into the sea lit erallyf A small ship was hired, and left the Gateway of India at 6 pm and after a night of dancing, eating and drinking, we returned back Just past midnight. The theme was a Hawaiian night, and people dressed up in their colorful best. The more adventurous among the girls wore grass skirts. An expat Manager (male) wore a coconut bra! There was fun. party galore and games, Everybody danced in wild abandon and we promised ourself a similar treat In 1995. Aloha!

11th December 1994: On the flight back to Calcutta I am asked a strange question. Veg' or 'non veg'? If you are not used to India, you might as well get used to these term, or your may end up eating the wrong food or starving or both, Back at Calcutta, and Sandip's reception, ’both' are served meaning vegetarian and non vegetarian dishes.

13th December 1994: Disha the party man. has been a friend for as long as I can remember. He Is a self professed

bohemian, and has not forgiven me for letting him down on our childhood pledge: never to marry. Disha remains a bachelor. and it could be a sad day if he ever locked himself up in holy matrimony. With friends like us, he does not need enemies.

In winter Disha wanis to make, what he likes to call a killing' translated Into English, meaning organising great parties well into the New Year. Nothing has been clearly worked out as of today, but he has.gone underground' with his thought, planning and plotting. More on the party underground' later

A lesson in Politics - the study of people, or shall we say •study of our politicians? Newspapers (which I read late at night) has a new connotation. “Illiterate leadership”. Sheikh Hasimi had made tlie magnanimous gesture ol handing over pens and papers to her boys as a befitting retaliation against Khaleda Zia's threat to use her 'boys' against the Opposition. Three questions. I. Whai is the minimum educational qualification required to rule Bangladesh? 2. Is it literate' thinking on part of Sheikh Hasina that 'leadership' means only the Government of which Khaleda Zia is Prime Minister, and absolves het of any responsibility i.e. as the leader’ of the Opposition? 3. What has the literate leadership in She'kh Hasina been offering her stu-

dent front fo'r tbe all these years - If it has not been paper arid pen?

This august December yn-•fortunately, both ladies are behaving like ostriches with their head buried in sahti to let the storm blow over, while they make pawn of the young and Innocent. They have betrayed the trust that so many times have been reposed by the young of this country, and should realise a generation is 23 year old. adult, open to the world around them, trying to catch up with the rest of the world. It will not bi easy to keep selling them as "threats’ or 'paper and pen’.

14th December 1994: It time to read my sons report card. He is on holiday with his mother, and I have to speak to him when he gets back about the P+ in Arts. I tell myself.

The annual school magazine. of my son Is at hand, and I spend time reading It. It's one of those recommended readings' for me every year. In essence It gives me a clear idea of how the kids of today are thinking. This is a generation I have decided years back to dedicate my life to. They are such an honest lot. There are very Interesting articles, and the emphasis is on the family My son who turned nine in July has a short piece on his family. The message Is clear — he misses me. My New Year pledge, more time with the son — less parties .... really! ISth December 1994: Its Roummy and Doras party tonight! They are old friends. I have always admired their resilience. I know for a fact that Dora was seventeen when she married Roummy. and theirs Is a classic, case of compatibility! They moved to Canada where their two lovely daughters were born, and lived their for Better part of their lives, deciding to come back sometimes in the late seventies.

Once home, they started out with an eating and recording joint at Green Super Market. Soon word spread, that other than the brie a brae and curios he sold Roummy had a huge collection of 'records' to tape, and Dora made the best hamburgers in town. Importantly the couple always waited on their client. They has no employee — they believed in the personalized service, the existence of which Bangladesh did hot know in those days.

The two have a penchant for partying : which usually means 'adda' that can. go on until morning. Sometime we would gang up and go party hopping — but that is not all the time. Today was to be an Unusual party as Roummy assured me. He has assembled his friends from 25 years back, the ones that matriculated together. All night there were , wild hooting and revelry, as these 'hippie from the sixties' recalled old times. They were there as well as their wives.

and children which made up a crowd of over 100 strong.'

16th December 1994: By the time I am on my way home from Roummy's it is past midnight. The old part of the city has erupted in explosive celebration. I meet an old friend who was an 'armed cadre’ of some political party till his 'retirement' to more useful thing in life, like business! He tells me they are exploding 'cocktails, kata rifle (sawed of shotgun), pistols'. I think for a moment. There is a huge civilian population with Illegal weapons. Are we sitting on a tinder box?

A lesson on the 'Spirit of 1971' : I am on the phone with Ishtlaque (the singer-) first thing in the morning. 'Joi Bangla' I greet him. He is a bit surprised, but I tell him, if I can greet him 'Eid Mubarak' on the morning of Eld or Shublio Nababarsha' on the Bengalee New Year Eve, and most certainly a loud Happy New Year' on the 1st January every year — how should 1 be greeting him on the glorious 16th December? Ishtlaque tells me his eyes are suddenly misty, and that It indeed should be 'Joi Bangla'.

There Is a lot of unnecessary confusion about this "greeting1, (I deliberately avoid the world, 'slogan') as some political parties have robbed this away from us. in its selfish

quest for power. So if you say Joi Bangla' you are immediately expected to be a member or aligned mentally with so and so' party

Let me be very clear on this one. Joi Bangla belongs to the people of Bangladesh, and it definitely never, ever, was coined to favour any political party. Prior to our War of Liberation it was an apolitical slogan, later on a greeting. So atleast once a year, let us keep dur arguments and our failures behind, and remember that hundreds of thousand embraced martyrdom for our day of salvation with this greeting1 on their lips.

Also isn't there a nice ring to the world 'Joi' which sounds like joy' in English, meaning happy’!

I read the newspapers at night. They have the usual eulogies. remembrance and emotional rhetorics. I search for Bangladesh '94', a poem I had written for a dally. They have not printed It. 1 am upset for hglf a minute : I know my friends in the newspaper share the same sentiment. -I was warned. It was a bit too radical. Perhaps in some book later, with a courageous publisher — who knows. I console myself !

20th December 1994 : I manage to piece together a story that 1 have been following for weeks. It has been disturbing me profoundly, despite all

the gaietiek of December. I quote, extensively here from various world magazines and newspapers.

Nazmlye Illkplnar. 15 years old daughter of Turkish immigrants of Colmar. France, has been rebelling against her family's traditional values and insisting on leading the life of an ordinary French teen-ager. Nazmlye went on a date with a French youth against her family's wishes, and returned late on night. She had previously rejected her parents plans for an 'arranged marriage', fought off their attempt to have her virginity verified, and as far as her family was concerned had caused ultimate 'dishonour', by seeking foster care with the French authorities. Five days later Nazmlye returned home in the hope of a reconciliation with her family. Instead. ' Nazmlye was driven to the countryside. While her parents looked on and a cousin held her down, her brother Abdullah, strangled het to DEATH!

Post mortem conducted on Nazmlye's body revealed that She was a VIRGIN!

I dedicate 1994 to Nazmlye Illkplnar, the greatest virgin that ever lived, the greatest teen-ager that ever lived, the greatest human that haS touched my life in many years, who made her ultimate sacrifice for TRUTH! I once again reaffirm my conviction about the honesty of the young. Long live the young.

The End