Hi. I am your typical Bangladeshi
and I want to sell my work
so I can leave a mark for my
countrymen to know that they, too,
can dream of flourishing outside
their nation, so that they, too,
know what is bought off the shelves
and what is in me that sells .
I grew up well-accustomed to your
culture from having watched Star World
but I think I'll side with the majority
and color myself a victim of identity crisis.
Since I live in a third-world nation
it must mean that I have issues accepting my paternal family.
Cross that! This is about going back to my roots!
Why I am the way I am and who I am.
And while you'll be aroused by my
introspection into how a man can
grow up rich in a country where
the diaspora flock to the city for money
a future for their children with 22
years of struggle or most likely more
just to blend in as a middle-class citizen,
I know nothing of that. I'll paint myself deprived
and I'll tell a story about how I went
about cleansing myself through a journey
across the tattered beauty of greenery
that sprawls all the way to my granddad's village.
I'll tell you how the war affected village
(Because I can't be from Bangladesh if
I don't mention the horrible war stories,
the despicable crimes of West Pakistan.
We are quite deprived of all our heritage;
You won't find much of it in textbooks
or on Ekushey TV, if anyone even watches
the channel anymore - I doubt they do)
made my grandfather into the ardent man
he was and how a love story unfurled
when he married the girl of his dreams,
albeit the wedding was arranged by family.
And some women - others like me trying
to make a name for themselves - may have
already told you that kind of thing is inherent
patriarchy and years of oppression in the subcontinent -
Some Monica Ali wannabes, I presume -
I'll choose instead to make it what I like.
It's part love story. But all is not fair in love
and all is not good that is poor, especially
when my grandfather was the only educated man
and his wealth accumulated from having been so
(, you see, I can't write about the hindus who were
cast out of the country during the 1971 war,
about how the land my family owns was
pretty much served on a golden spoon
through some bonds and some government bids
and a lot of it being a sort of finders-keepers sort of thing.
The backstory on the land would look bad on me
Plus I am not Hindu. Thank God I belong to a
Muslim family caught in the struggle
to preserve my Muslim beliefs, my identity).
My family's struggle came from the uncouth,
disobedient children of my grandparents
with the exception of my father, who followed
in gramp's footsteps. He's a doctor now.
Anyway, those children obviously threw a fit
when the majority inheritance was passed on to my father
and bearing no ill-intent, my father left his home
giving away what was his, hoping he had a better opportunities
in the city, where he struggled to become the
self-made man that he is. He's sometimes on Channel I
doing live consultation for the general mass who
call in hoping they don't have to pay for a visit to the doctors.
My father's struggle in the city is one worth telling,
as he soon climbed the ranks as a surgeon,
fell in love with my mother, the girl of his dreams,
and raised three beautiful children, one of whom is me.
I guess that sums it all up, and if it helps
I could write about how I see my father's struggles
as my nemesis, and how I have always felt closer to him
thus, suffering from identity issues. Would that sell?
It's a lie, but it's a different kind of daddy issue.
Makes for quite the compelling story and
I see "New York Best-Seller" written in bold transcript.
I hope you do, too, Mr. Foreign Editor.
I am here to pave the way for my countrymen,
Represent them the best I can, keeping intact their dignity
And I am sure that with my charm and eloquence
they will look up to me for the man that I am.
