Late Afternoon at Masjid Wazir Khan

Very well written Salma Omar,

Apnar Bari Kothaaye?

Ras

Ijaz sahib,I am sure you would never discriminate yourself-alas, not everyone on either side of the border can be like you.
Salma, I too have often thought of all the trinkets that are on sale at places like the Taj and how ugly they are in comparison with the building itself. It is as if our concept of what is beautiful and valued has changed for the worse.

For emotional people chowk is a perfect safety valve. I too got glued to this site and it helped me release pressures and memories many a times.

I got my early schooling at Holy Cross Dacca, though I am from Punjab. In those days divisive tendencies had not emerged and all I have are lovely memories of Karmi Tola, Tunghi and the West Indies-Pakistan Cricket match. I loved the Katthals and Ghab, not to mention the Tari.

My brother then a captain fought at Dinajpur. He was engaged to a beautiful Bengali Girl (some Gosh). He surrendered in January 1972 and still carries scars of torture he faced at the hands of Mukti Bahni and Indian Interregators.Twice he was caught escaping.

Back in Pakistan, he manouvered for the girl to shift to Australia. After she shifted he was informed that she was now marrying someone else.

I visited Dacca in 1999 and had nostalgic momments.

There is a sizable community of Bengali Christians living in Lal Kurti, and I assure nb that they are never discriminated.

Very recently my niece a doctor in PakArmy went with a military aid mission to Shylet. I asked her to visit Holy Cross on my behalf and also bring a Katthal.

Unlike Cheema, I feel sad about 1971 only.

Cheerios

Re: # 9
No, you are not wrong. I believe writing takes its own voice once it is public and people deduce from it what it represents to them. If you take it as the "anesthetic of familiarity" then that is a welcome perspective for me as a writer.

Re: # 8; Salma
For me it had nothing to do with Bengal, Bengalis or Bangladeshis etc; more about the little everyday details that you used to make your point. These are all too often ignored or perhaps not acknowledged I should say. That is what I referred to as the 'anaestheitic of familiarity' below. Was I wrong in my deductions?

I don't want to take anything away from Bengalis though; Bangladesh became independent (I do have a lot to say about this concept of 'independence' when it comes to nation states though!!) before I was born.

I probably feel much more of a sense of loss over what took place in 1947 than 1971 personally!

Cheers

Thanks for your comment. I am a Pakistani who was married to a Bangladeshi for many years. I now live in Pakistan and dont think I will ever go back to Bangladesh even though I love the land, the people and still speak the language. The years I spent there are an integral part of my memories and experiences. Speaking of racism, it is sad that it crosses people and borders - I felt intense racism from some Bangladeshis when I lived in Dhaka but it never stopped me from making friends with Bangaldeshis who are essentially vibrant, friendly and loving. There are still many Bangladeshis in Pakistan although their identities are muted- much like the Attendant. For me this was the link between the Bengali and the Mosque - between a rich, flourishing culture and its loss, between silence/mutedness and crass noise, between personal secrecy and public display (the little girl and the oil lamp/the quiet courtyard vs cheap glitzy shops) between going up and coming down and going round and round aimlessly (like the pigeons). The contrast was so striking that it had to be penned. Amar article porar junno onaik dhonnobad. Bhalo thaken!

Salma, there is something about this story that made me feel wistful-and perhaps even nostalgic, thinking of my own Bengal-we all carry representations of Bengal in our own little minds.Often of chowk, when I talk of being Bengali, I am amused at the racism, usually from Pakistanis, but sometimes from Indians; but stories like this make me remember why I came to chowk in the first place. I would, though, like to know more about Bengalis in Pakistan and about you, if you don't mind. Thank you.

Good!
There are sill many Bengalis in Pakistan. They cab be seen as cooks, house maids and teachers.There are few who have retired from the armed forces and their kids are now serving.
I love the fish cooked by Babar at PC Rawalpindi in Tai Pan. I usually try talking to him in Bengali. His son is doing MBA.

Methophers aside, is there an irony of fate? Like the pigeons, did the clock go full circle or has it yet to?

Re: # 1
Thanks for you appreciation.

Re: # 3
Thanks. This article took a long time to take shape but once I started writing it, it came out in one go.

"I sat down on the pond’s edge and slowly felt the silence seep into me like the marble’s coolness through my socks. Then, almost in a flash, a flutter of grey and white wings flapped softly above me as pigeons circled the courtyard’s sky in a mass race. They flew the aerial lap in one whirl and ended the race where they began – on top of the three domes perched above the main hall standing at the far end of the courtyard".

Beautifully put; I closed my eyes and felt as if I was in a fairytale. The last paragraph also; perhaps it is our "anaesthetic of familiarity" that stops us from appreciating little details.
Cheers

very nice ... bravo!

Beautifully written and described Salma! It was a pleasure to read this. Welcome to Chowk.