RBR

Christmas of 2020 should follow the lead and be celebrated on a small scale. Blessing this year’s holiday season is a mild winter cold wave,

For me, placing coins in lucky bamboo or money plant pots and to think that money would grow from it, is more or less the right way out to earning and saving money; but alas, if only money grew on plants!

Once you become a parent, you unknowingly sign a contract for a lifetime of bondage. Imagine the things you had to do or are still doing in that role— that’s enough proof that you are indeed nothing but a puppet in your child’s hands.

People invariably get hurt by loved ones; whether they meant to do it or not remains another question to ponder on. I am talking about family elders, who should by now know how to conduct themselves in this time and era of all things politically correct.

It was already cloudy when we started early in the morning for a launch ride over the mighty Padma. The unpredictable weather was an impending threat, and our only concern was whether a Kalboishakhi will brew out of nowhere and throw a damper on our day out.

There is something about the red and white; it reminds me of Apu and Durga, or Devdas and Paro, and invariably in a Sarat or autumn setting.

And then COVID-19 happened, and everything came to a staggering halt.

A slight discomfort in the chest, and I immediately imagine an impending heart attack, not thinking twice that it could easily be some other ailment.

Dr N A M Momenuzzaman, eminent cardiologist at United Hospital, might appear to be very austere and serious, but when you sit to chat with him, you will be proved wrong. The busy physician loves to play the flute, enjoys farming, and takes pleasure in holidaying with friends.

Cosmopolitanism is all about accepting societal norms and cultures from many different countries and being open to different ideas and ways of doing things. From fashion to cuisine, it was been injected into our everyday lives, and truly enough that it has become a staple in our kitchen and experiments with all things food.

We saw our fathers and grandfathers reading newspapers while having their morning tea. Later, with us, we read the papers in the car on our way to work or during hurried breakfasts.

For how long will I be doing office work plopped in some randomcorner of the house, the rooftop garden or the balcony? For how long will I have meetings in zoom, sitting in my living room?

Plants brighten up our moods and help reduce stress and anxiety; the greens friends make us feel calmer and self-aligned.

So, all the painting, gardening, cooking, baking and other verbs ending in ‘ings’ that we did to keep ourselves happy and occupied during this lockdown have run dry. We are just tired of inventing ideas and taking up new hobbies to keep a check on our sanity; at least it holds true for me.

A part of my soul is dead, and the other half is dying a slow death. Amid such painful existence, how do I breathe every day and carry on with my duties each day? It’s a question I ask myself continuously.

Monsoon is the season of beauty in Bangladesh. Everything around you is fresh, rain soaked, and green; even the polluted Dhaka air feels fresh. Our streets, our cityscape, rooftop gardens, the plants in the balconies — all beaming at their brightest.

I named my herb patch Scarborough Fair, not because I have parsley, rosemary and thyme, but amusingly every time my husband sees me working on the herb bed, he sings this song. And somehow, I grew fond of the lyrics.

There are times when I am overworked or stressed, and for a relief, I picture myself on the sandy beach of Teknaf, waves crashing in and out, tickling my feet, or walking along the abandoned rail line in Lawachara National Park;

Normality as we knew it might never come back, and it would only be wise to accept this new normal and act accordingly.

But my Eid menu will be very simple — polao or beef tehari, Mughlai chicken korma or beef rezala, and gurer payesh and pantoa for desserts and Eid snacks.