Just after 5:00am on Chatteswari Road.
I remember many swim practices where a song would get stuck in my head, pursuing me up and down the lane for the entire two-and-a-half hours. The more insipid the song, the fiercer the chase (“M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E,” for instance. Or some song about a three-hour tour). Despite recent postings to the contrary, I think my ear worms are getting a tiny bit more sophisticated. Lately, these lyrics from Joni Mitchell’s “Barangrill” have been tailing me:
And you want to get moving
And you want to stay still
But lost in the moment some longing gets filled…
(Thanks, Joni Mitchell)
The smile and the hand are at odds.
I can’t stay still. It’s too hot to keep walking. Joni Mitchell gets me.
Bangladesh is suffering under a persistent heat wave (91F in Dhaka at 10:30pm last Thursday night); I’ve been getting up earlier and earlier for a morning walk to beat the heat and clear my head. It’s still a (pleasant) shock to leave the cool of Thames Tower and step out into the smoke and haze of the morning. By the time I’m on the main road the crows are sifting through the piles of coconut husks, cawing at each other to set their morning boundaries. The men walking past acknowledge me with a booming, “Good morning!” The women avert their gaze. Today marked the first time a dog took offense at my presence. I tried to remember if I absolutely should or should not establish eye contact. I blinked. He wagged. We parted ways.
The monkeys in Dhaka left me alone, what with all the cables to coil.
These morning walks do fill some longing. I feel a weird sense of accomplishment just finding my way back to the apartment. Everywhere I look something catches my eye; the photographs fail, but I like the challenge of trying to capture (ha!) the proliferate world here. To echo Ms. Mitchell, getting lost in the moment takes me out of the desire to control time (six more weeks; three more exams; a month’s worth of dental floss, maybe).
Some moments for you:
Sunrise at Chok Bazaar. Dennis has been accompanying me on FaceTime. I hold up the phone and show him what I’m seeing. When he saw the sun rising he snapped the photo on his phone. So, a picture in Chittagong taken by someone in Minneapolis. What next? Flying cars?
Me, in Chok Bazaar, sloppy at 5:15 in the morning. In the mirrors of a modern bank…
Parked.
Early morning ISKCON temple in Chittagong. Haribol! (Hi, John.)
Stairs and shutters at the Chittagong ISKCON temple.
Looking at a tea warehouse through the multi-tinted windows of the Asian University for Women on Chatteswari Road.
Some Bangladeshi men have obliged me by letting me take their pictures. Public life is patriarchal here (the prime minister, however, is female); approaching a woman on the street for a photo would be intrusive. Hence:
CNG driver in Dhaka.
Henna!
Cycle rickshaw driver outside the Alliance Française.
Happy student emerging from the reading room at Dhaka University.
Entrepreneur along the fence at a nearby park in Chittagong. He offered to check my cholesterol levels.
Cycle rickshaw driver in matching lungi, shirt, and collapsible hood.
Criminology graduate student and CNG driver. Excellent impromptu tour guides, both.
Chai? Cha? Tea? This gentleman serves them all.
100 degrees Fahrenheit at Dhaka University. He’s looking at the canteen where I bought a Mountain Dew for the first time in fifty years. It’s still gross and perfect.
You’re hot? I have fur.
And finally:
A crowd gathered at Dhaka University. A consensus emerged: I should pay for a cycle rickshaw to see the campus (I walked).
Oh, and this interloper:
Sitting for lunch at the Sikh gurdwara on the campus of Dhaka University. An oasis of quiet in crazy Dhaka. “Kindness as their deity and forgiveness as their chanting beads. They are a most excellent people.” Guru Granth Sahib Ji
As you’ve guessed, I spent last weekend up in Dhaka, roaming around and trying to immerse myself. My roommate Reza (who still lives in a separate apartment; not sure when AUW will move me downstairs) kept me company on the nine-hour, double-decker bus ride last Thursday evening. We talked about movies–he’s a cinematographer–and food and our families. I asked him about adda, a Bangla word I’d learned in Kolkata. Here’s a definition, courtesy of a BBC report:
“We are not expected to produce something out of an adda,” Aditi Ghosh, head of the linguistics department at University of Calcutta, told me. “It is a kind of unplanned mental exercise where we not just talk about ourselves and our families, but we go beyond that. It is about ideas and events happening all around us.”
An adda in Kolkata.
If two people can form an adda (Is it a noun? A verb? Both?) I’d like to think Reza and I did. I commented on every passing object (“Look at that tree!”) while he incorporated these observations into discussions about art history and politics and Bengali society. We talked about load shedding and the upcoming fuel crisis. I groused about the Christo-fascism that is eroding human rights in the US. He told me about “September on Jessore Road,” Allen Ginsberg’s poetic lament for the refugees of the 1971 War of Liberation.
“Millions of fathers in rain/Millions of mothers in pain/Millions of brothers in woe/Millions of sisters with nowhere to go.” Ginsberg’s poem on display in the Liberation War Museum in Dhaka.
Reza handed me his phone so I could read the poem off the tiny screen as the bus headed toward Dhaka. How do societies recover from such horror? Where do they start? We talked about this, about how the generations that fought this war are still with us, if they survived. We talked about Ginsberg and censorship and the dangers of denying the past. The mood shifted as we stopped at the requisite roadhouse in Cumilla (everyone has to get off the bus; everyone is heartily encouraged to eat). Reza ordered dal and rice and Pepsis to share. We chatted some more and almost missed the bus.
Nothing was solved, not even this less complicated question: “Why do people take offense at other people’s vegetarianism?”
Lots of okra in the dining hall. Might just drive me back to beef.
In high school my insightful friend Sarah coined the term “houseboat person.” I think this is akin to people in an adda. Think of this as a kind of geometry proof by way of explanation:
Friends are people who sustain us.
Houseboat dwellers are people who can live easily in close quarters.
Friends who can live easily in close quarters are houseboat people.
Time will tell if Reza and I will be houseboat people, but I was very grateful for his easy, unforced, interesting company.
Waterscape, waiting for a boat. Dhaka.
As for teaching, a student of mine came to office hours and gave me good talking-to. That morning, nearly half the class had arrived late and I had pleaded with them to make a better effort at being on time. She said, “They were raised in military dictatorships. You have to be firm!” Below is videotaped evidence of my iron-fisted pedagogy:
This video raises more questions than it answers.
The students at Dhaka University were eager to tell me about their own history with certain types of dictators, how authoritarianism tore their worlds apart. If I can do them remote justice, I’ll include their observations next time. An object lesson for us in the States, for sure.
Joy Bangla. On a wall at Dhaka University.
For now, I’m ending with another glimpse of Joni Mitchell and her song “Good Friends”:
No hearts of gold
No nerves of steel
No blame for what we can and cannot feel
Good friends, you and me…
Much love, whether we’d survive on a houseboat or not. Send me comments; we’ll create a digital adda.
Jimmy, you (and Dennis) take amazing photos! The waterscape looks like a painting – beautiful! And you’re a storyteller extraordinaire! 🧡💚
Thank you, Laurie Miller. Miss you.
Beautiful pictures and people there. When do you come home?
I’ll be home on July 12. Will be at Mom’s the last week of July…maybe we can all meet up then?
5 am IS after midnight, after all!
I love these.
You took the best picture!
I would live on a houseboat with you.
Dann, baby. Me, too.
Jimmy, haven’t we already survived on a houseboat together at the river, or at least on a flotilla of ski boats? Now your post has me wondering about the difference between adda and sohbet. I will investigate and get back to you.
Meanwhile,
Now Manhattan holds me,
To a chair in the sky
With the bird in my ears
And boats in my eyes
Going by
(Joni Mitchell, the Mingus album)
I knew I could count on you to find a perfect Joni Mitchell quote! I would venture that we are lifelong houseboat people. Just looked up “sohbet.” Do let me know!
https://dailyrumi.livejournal.com/54520.html
Thanks, Melinda! What a beautiful poem. I’ll have to read it many times–
Jim – thank you for taking us on this journey with you. As always, I love your insights and stories. The photos are amazing as well!
Thanks, Rocky. You know how competitive I am.
There’s nothing quite like a thought-provoking travelogue for transporting you out of the every day. That was a very welcome 5 minutes of reflection – Thanks James – I’d be way out of my depth joining your Adda – but I do think “Nothing was Solved” would be a beautiful title for a novel – safe travels my good friend
Ken! You know, of course, the best adda I ever had was with you and Dennis at the Chinese restaurant after the Joni Mitchell conference. Friends of spirit. Hope all is well (and someone has to write that novel).
(What does that even MEAN??)
(Tell Ms. North hello for me.)
When Perry kicks me out, I will come and live with you in your new home. We can dig a moat around it so it feels more like a houseboat.!
Excellent idea, Dorian. I’m with you.
Hello, Jim! It’s inspiring to read about your resilience in the heat, since we’ve had a sticky week here. I’ve been complaining,, but the end is in sight. As others have commented, your photos are terrific. (I don’t understand the comments on Dennis’s involvement.). I can tell that SOMEONE is thinking about composition—e.g., in the one of the green bicycle. Frameable.
Stay cool.
Thanks, Pat. It’s HOT here. Good grief.
Thanks for this latest installment, Jim. Your photos are amazing! How kind of you to bear all that heat just so that I can sightsee vicariously from the comfort of my own (air-conditioned) living room!
Brian! Entirely my pleasure. I will never, ever complain about the cold again.
Oh hello. I loved reading this one. It seems kind of hot. And that kitty! I kept thinking how grateful (yes, this is the right word) that you are there documenting and educating. So thank you!
Your students filled my heart! Did you lay emotional orchestra? Just curious. It’s a good one.
More soon but I wanted you to know that I was sitting on a deck chair on my (weird, small, houseboat-like) patio in Shoreview Minnesota and I heard you all the way from Dhaka University. Love!
And I meant “play” emotional orchestra. Darn.
Shanan! Oh, to be in Shoreview (although I hear it’s been muggy and hot there as well). You’d love the students here. They are brilliant improvisers, although I’m teaching psych this summer (don’t tell the administration). Thanks for the comment! So good to hear from home–
I loved this post for so many reasons. The cat…yes. But everything else too.
I am sorry to inform you that Joni Mitchell will be giving her first live show in less than a week from now, at Gorges Ampitheater on the Columbia River in the middle of Washington state , along with a fave of mine, Brandi Carlisle.
I just wanted you to know you have choices and I support them whatever they are.
Meanwhile, I know your students appreciate you- if not your sweat.
I heard about the Mitchell/Carlisle concert. Historic! Thank you for the comments! I’ve missed the Poly Zoom very much. As for my choices, well…
Who’s Joni Mitchell?
Thin ice, Josh. Thin ice.
These photos are really gorgeous, Jim. I felt the same way in Thailand, just no way a photo can capture the vibrancy & magic of being there, but these are truly stunning. And sounds like Reza is quite special, I’m so glad you have such a dear, deep friend. Have fun!
Thanks, Ryan! Yes, it’s beautiful here…and I remember feeling that same (happy) frustration in Thailand. Can’t capture it. Looking forward to working with you soon! Hello to Tod–
Jim your photos are awesome. The cat! But I am partial to the human portraits — so gorgeous. You are a gifted artist and storyteller. Thanks for sharing this journey with those of us who are less adventurous (speaking just for myself here). xoxo
Ann! Thank you. I do love taking the portraits…am always amazed at how beautiful the people are. Give Jean my best (if you see her). Malcolm Yards (is that right?) when I return!
Thanks for this journey this morning.
My pleasure. How is Maine?
Jim, lovely pictures and commentary on your adventures. Thank you for sharing a world that I know nothing about. Your heart and your mind are clearly open to this journey.
Thanks, Phyllis! I walk past your furniture store nearly every day and think of you. Much love–
Kathleen and I can totally sympathize with the heat wave you are experiencing. We had to get out of the heat and move to cooler climes in the last month. Megalaya, Nepal, and Dharamshala all provided some respite. We can hardly believe that our adventure comes to an end in the next few days as we travel back to NY early Tuesday. I look forward to reading the rest of your blog as we travel. The lesson of the students showing up on time was one of our biggest challenges here as well and perhaps one of the most beneficial towards their collective futures.
Thanks, David! I’ve been following both you and Kathleen on Facebook and am always intrigued by your experiences. The heat broke here for a few days (the monsoon!) and it was glorious. I wish we’d all been able to meet up, but (judging from your photos) you made the right decision to go north. I’m heading back to Islamabad in October for a few weeks. Would love to talk before then. Safe travels home and thanks for the comment!