Right now I'm standing on a road a hundred miles away from my home. It's not just any road though. The locals say it cuts through right in front of the house of Jibanananda Das. A famous Bengali poet whose influence on Bengali literature and modern Bengali poetry was far-reaching. So much so that I think most adult Bangla speakers at least know his name or have read his poem Banalata sen. But, now while I'm here, all of my effort towards trying to imagine how it was back then and how he might have felt and I'm failing hard. I just can't see it. How a lonely traveler after a search for a thousand years, found a brunette who made his journey come to an end. just not there anymore.
This in my opinion is the result of how we as a nation have managed to lose all care about our roots. The city named Natore where Jibanananda das wrote all his literature, where that street I mentioned is, and where I am right now, that city is lost. For the duration I've been here, I have gone to about 3 of the old colonial-era palaces. And I am now mesmerized by how badly treated these places are. I had hoped to take some good photos of the architecture, and now I feel like I've been pranked. They seem like either just plain and bland destroyed walls or comical recreations of how they looked at that time.
I am extremely frustrated and upset, which I think can be sensed from how I'm ranting. I'm extremely upset with how we as a population have turned out. Money hungry bunch of idiots whose own voice pleases them more than anything else.
Most of us as Bengalis, more so as Bangladeshis have failed miserably. On the roads, we don't abide by any traffic rules. It's like the wild wild west out here. As I am quite passionate about motorbikes, and even though at times I travel for 100s of miles just like I did today, to come here and look at a piece of our history. It's probably the riskiest thing a human being can do. You either ride like hell, always keeping the wind at your back, or you get squashed under a rogue vehicle whose driver thinks every asphalt is F1 race tracks and the lines between lanes don't mean shit. Vast imagery and footage of such roads are one google search away for anyone who wants to see if what I'm saying is true.
I see such a decay of morale in every aspect of life being a part of this society. I will not keep drawing on examples about it as my fingers will tire quickly if I start. But a good example of it is present even here at Hive.
Every one of us here who writes on chain does so to earn something, earn money. Even while writing this post, I'm hoping to get some votes which by now gives me a sense of false satisfaction rather than incentivizing me to try and write better, and, more. I try to keep on writing no matter how shitty they turn out to be, just so that I can keep the small identity I have here alive for a tad bit longer.
Most of us, the BDC members, are here, for those sweet upvotes. It is not wrong at all, what is wrong is that except for a very few of us, very few, everyone else just takes whatever they can snatch, and then run away like thieves! It's like they are entitled to it and have nothing to offer in return to the community. It's not that the contents and blog pieces we produce here are so outstanding, they must be incentivized. In reality, it's far from that. Due to this absurd choice of behavior, we as Bengalis, have lost our footing on this chain. It's so severe that others who hail from a mutual root to ours and have made a place for themselves do not want anything to do with us. It's heartbreaking.
While it's not possible to change the whole nation single-handedly, I would like to try with people who I have around me. If you are. Reading this, I cordially ask you to try with me to improve. It doesn't cost money to try.
On another note, here is an image of palm trees surrounding the street to make up for the rant above. Seemed like a better choice of a frame than the actual street littered with trash. Taken in front of a once majestic palace called Uttara Gonovobon, now just another building.
