Letter from Brooklyn
A shoot, biryani and betel leaf spitting
My relocating to Brooklyn in 2003 was the result of an abrupt decision. My expectations were not too high and neither did I have much enthusiasm. But on the bright side what if I had to move to someplace like Albuquerque or Idaho? What would my life be like then? At the time I needed a change. I had graduated with a degree in computer science and gotten a so-so job at Time Warner Cable. Like any American I started to pay my student loan, $20,000 that the federal student loan program had given the City University of New York. I also managed to save enough money to buy a 3-year-old silver Ford Taurus, which in course of time became my companion for many occasions. On the first sunny morning after my arrival at Brooklyn, I walked out to see that the guy living in the garage next door had put out his junk collection on the pavement for sale. Sun bathing and trading at the same time, how ingenious! A ray of sunlight reflected on the rim of a dark blue glass bottle. I bought it, and that trifling moment was the very first sign of serendipity at Brooklyn. I felt calm. My Blue Glass collection had now started to look respectable. My very imperfect Brooklyn day begins with waking up grudgingly to cacophony of three alarm clocks, set to go off with 5-minute-intervals of each other. A hot shower followed by NY1 channel news while drying my hair, a cup of black tea without any sugar are my first morning rituals. I wish I could start with a swim followed by Zen meditation/ yoga in a tranquil feng shui garden. But the reality is I drag myself to the car. Going down the six flights in the elevator, I silently curse unknown culprit who thinks pressing the buttons for all the floors on the way up, causing the elevator to delay, is a fun activity. The day I catch the clown he, or she, has had it! Yesterday, after work I had difficulty finding parking on Rugby Road. Pink paper notices stapled on the trees and wooden poles informed us that Exit 19, a production company with an entire group of cast and crew for the TV show "Gloria Sheppard," had taken over both sides of Stratford Avenue and Rugby road on our block. CBS Paramount Network Television is producing this show in association with ABC Studios. Because of the gorgeous old trees, the colonial old houses and the picturesque suburban neighborhood, production companies come several times a year to do their shoots. People here don't really crowd in hundreds to watch movie shootings. I had never really bothered to go and watch the extravaganza either, but today was an exception. A fellow who was the owner of the catering company, who had a huge table of food, sandwiches, fruits, salads, had said he was going to introduce us to the show runner. So today as planned we went again. He kept his promise. The writer Jeffrey Bell, who is also the show runner, executive producer, wrote for Buffy the Vampire, X-Files and several other television shows, came out of the heavy black-curtained house. The show is about a quirky detective balancing her job as a Manhattan crime-solver with that of being as a single, suburban mom. We talked, took some pictures, got his email address. We spoke with some crew members and found out that the company was doing another shoot at a location in Manhattan with Julia Roberts. Then they go to another location tomorrow for a shoot with Meryl Streep! I have been craving biryani and lamb. This evening went to Shugondha restaurant. It's a 10-minute drive from our place to Kensington, the square where all Brooklyn Bangalis meet. The people at the restaurant know us and we know them. We ordered one plate of biryiani and one lamb. One-half plate of biryani was more than my usual lunch, with NTV broadcasting on the television sets fixed on two walls of the restaurant. I admittedly have mixed feelings about this area. I am pleased that Bangali trade and commerce around this Brooklyn version of Brick Lane is booming. There are at least 30 to 40 Bangladeshi shops in this square. Gold jewellery stores, banks, bakeries, restaurants, bagel shops, hair dressing salons, tax/accounting and doctors' offices, real estate, grocery and meat shops, video stores, tutorial centers, you name it, they have it in this Banglatown. You will find anything here, from Nabisco biscuit to Bombay chanachur or Jui hair oil or a frozen pack of big shrimps imported from Bangladesh. And last but not certainly the least is that most essential thing for many Bengalis: the small paan dokans in front of the restaurants. It surely is no mean achievement for Bangladeshis living in Brooklyn. They have done it and done it big, an example of American dream come true. But what you also can't ignore is the betel leaf spit stains on the sidewalks. Maybe this is a new kind of gang graffiti, the unique territorial markings of an urban tribe called Brooklyn Bangali on their chosen land? Graffiti or not, I must say this is something I can live without. This community is booming financially, and I don't doubt that soon the Bangladeshi business community will start an awareness campaign for cleanliness in the area as well, become aware of the need for more style and dignity. I was informed by the good people at Shugondha that a big program of the Chittagong association was taking place at the public school premise next to the Kensington station (post office). They were catering for a thousand people for the occasion. I could have gone and joined them, done some interviews and taken pictures for my website. But instead I decided an aimless stroll around the square was more interesting than an organized mezban. Maybe the food would tempt me and I would end up eating again. So I checked myself. Maybe, I told myself, next time! Asheka Troberg lives in Brooklyn and is a member of the editorial team of www.brooklyvoice.com.
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