Loss of Innocence

Growing up in Bangladesh, one thing I was scared of were thieves. I used to hear stories from family members, neighbors - how someone broke into their houses late at night (or in broad daylight if no one was home) and took clothes, food, toys - what not. I remember, I used to wake up at night and would be terrified to open my eyes thinking, what if I open my eyes and see a thief in the room with me! What am I going to do! I also have this vivid memory of waking up one morning to a lot of shouting from outside. Our watchman had captured a thief who was trying to get into the kitchen at the middle of the night. He was tied up in the front yard of my Grandfather's house. As was customary, he probably got beaten up by the watchman and then let go. After all, everyone understood why someone would come to steal from your house - they were dirt poor. To a small child though, that was incomprehensible and they were some sort of monster to be scared of. Watching "Top of the Lake" on Netflix the other night, I was reminded of this memory.

The story of "Top of the Lake" revolves around Tui - a 12 year old who tries to kill herself because she is pregnant. While the police department tries to figure out who the father of the child is, the town unravels around pedophiles, gang rape drugs, teenagers being introduced to free drugs so their addiction can later be used to lure them into prostitution. It was very disturbing. While I really enjoyed the acting, the cinematography, I was also really shaken to the core by this award winning mini-series.

My childhood was so much simpler in a way - all I had to be worried about were thieves. Nowadays, kids had to be warned about so many things! Now that I have Zoya, anytime I see any news or movies about little girls, I just want to break down and cry. I don't ever want her to experience any of the modern day monsters. It’s not just thieves nowadays - it's random people with guns, pedophiles, random people with crazy ideas in their heads, terrorists, drugs. What would I not give to live in a world where little girls stay innocent longer; they play with their friends out in the backyard without being worried about some stranger abducting them; they walk over to the community pool without being followed by some creep in a van (that happened in our neighborhood); where they hang out at the mall with their with their friends without worrying about losing their life because a random person decides to show up with a gun.

And little boys are not excluded either. You can't send them to any activates without worrying about what they are being exposed to. It’s not just the drugs, guns that you worry about, there's also Peer Pressure, Bullying to worry about. What were innocent rituals of growing up, have now turned into weapons of destruction. I crave the innocence of my childhood for my kids, I try to protect them as much as I can, but then I wonder by sheltering them, am I preparing them to face the world out there.

Remembering 9/11

It was a normal Tuesday morning. I got to work and logged in to my laptop. Ping. Ping. Ping. My IM window blinked. I opened it and saw a co-worker who was working from home had the following message for me:

 

A plane just hit one of the twin towers!!!!!!!!!

 

He was the office prankster. My reaction was "Yeah right!" It was around 9:00. Couple of minutes later, again ping,ping, ping! This time the message was scary.

 

"Oh my God!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another plane just hit the other tower. I'm watching it live on CNN!!!!!!!!"

 

That really got my scared. I tried to go over to the CNN website and it was not loading. People started talking around us. My manager showed up. "Hey, did you guys hear the news? We are going over to Sears across the street."

 

We all went. Sears had all their TVs tuned to CNN and we watched in horror the events of the day unfolding. As the towers collapsed in front of our eyes, I was sure my friend who worked at 7 World Trade Center was gone. We couldn't stop watching, we couldn't peel our eyes away from the TV - this unimaginable horror. Who was responsible? How can someone kill innocent people just like that? How deep does your hatred need to be to go down to this level?

 

I went home at some point and stayed in front of the tv all night watching rescue efforts and news. As the words came pouring "Osama Bin Laden", "Al Qaeda" - I was terrified. I am a Muslim. What's going to happen to the Muslims in US now?! I took the next day off, again wrapping myself in a blanket, stayed in front of the TV and watched news. I cried  for all the people that lost their lives, for the fire-fighters and rescuers who died trying to save complete strangers. 

 

The following day, I went to work with a lot of shame on my shoulder. I felt responsible. I am sure all decent Muslims around the world felt the same. I came to US with not a penny to my name. People here have embraced me with open arms, the country has given me opportunities to get a college degree, to get a decent job. In return, my people have destroyed normal life in US. I knew life was never going to be the same in US. At the same time, I heard from people around me, who assured me that they don't consider me an outsider, that they know I am personally not responsible. Friends wrote emails to me, co-workers left notes, chocolates for me on my desk. In the middle of all this destruction, the beauty of human nature shined the brightest and restored my faith in humanity. 

 

 

Dear Amanda Berry

I apologize on behalf of all decent human beings for the last 10 years of your life. However you look at it - 10 years/120 months/3650 days/87,600 hours/5256000 minutes/315,360,000 seconds - it's f*ing long time! I can’t begin to think the horror you went through. Ever since you kicked your way out the door and into our hearts, I have been obsessively reading every article I can find online. What a nightmare this must have been for you three! I can’t even think about you without tearing up. With a daughter of my own, I am trying to make sense out of this nonsense. How do I teach her to not trust anybody yet to keep trust in the goodness around us? How do I teach her to fight back in the face of adversity without losing hope? How do I teach her to have faith in herself when she doubts herself? How as a mother do I protect her from crazies out there? I can’t keep her in a bubble for long, though I sure would like to try. How do I let her go out there when I am scared of unknowns myself. I hope someday, I can tell her your story and show her after all that monster did to you, he couldn't break you down! What a lovely soul you are! Your courage makes me proud, your smiling face brings me hope that you will be ok. I pray life brings you ONLY happiness from today onward. Stay strong! Take care of yourself and know we are all very, very proud of you.

Life is not fair

We were eating lunch when his phone rang. He looked at the number and excused himself to answer the phone. Within seconds, I could see the smile getting wiped off of his face. He is usually always smiling, somewhat of a goofball. It was really unsettling to see the range of emotions playing on his face, none of them a familiar look on him. Looked like he wanted to cry. After he hung up, he told me his grandmother just passed away in India. He is moving back to India in a week. I spent a lot of my drive home imagining him as a little kid, being spoiled by his grandmother. Hope he is doing ok.

To happy Beginnings

I was close to crying. My chest felt like it will explode anytime now from all the emotions raging inside me. Zoya’s teacher looked at me and asked “How is Mommy doing this morning?” I smiled a proud smile. Today was Zoya’s first day at pre-school.

We have come so far away from that day when we almost lost her. She has grown into a cute little girl who enjoys looking at picture books; loves to listen to music, and sing; enjoys going out; loves food; knows her alphabets, colors, shapes, numbers; loves to get tickled; loves her family. I know she will love this school also. Here is to happy beginnings Zoya. May you go farther in life then you can ever dream of, may you be happy in life doing whatever it is that you want to do. We will always be there for you with all our love and support.

I feel horrible

You always hear stories like this and think things like this never happen to me, but it does! A family friend in Bangladesh has been missing for the past couple of days. He is my Mom's best friend's husband. No one knows what happened. He was close to 70, but in good health. No one knows if he was kidnapped for ransom, or if he had some sort of rivalry with someone and that person tried to hurt him somehow. My mom is quite upset over this incident and we were talking about it this morning. I can't imagine what Aunty is going through right now! I was telling ammu about abbu, that he was sick, he suffered and passed away - all in front of us and we are still hurting two years later. If they never find Uncle, can you imagine what Aunty has to go through for the rest of her life, what their kids are going to think for the rest of their lives! I atleast have some closure, what will they do?! Will they ever find him? If they do find him, in what condition will they find him? Is it better if he is never found or is that even worse? Would they then think all kinds of horrible thoughts?? I am so genuinely sad for them. I wish I knew how to console them. I wish I could help somehow.

Silent Tears

It was past 1:30 am and I was crying silent tears. I had just finished reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. Wow! What a story! The main story evolves around two women, from very different backgrounds, in Afghanistan – how their lives got entangled together in a loveless marriage with a brutal, physically violent husband. At first, I thought it was a bit slow-paced and somewhat predictable. Then I got to a point where I couldn’t put it down. I made Tanveer mad because I had the bedside lamp on and he couldn’t sleep. But I had to finish the book last night.

I knew what happened in Afghanistan under Taliban regime and before that under the Soviet invasion for the past 30/40 years. Reading about it all over again, now with two endearing protagonists in the picture, I was trying to put myself in their shoes. I can never imagine not going to work. Specially, if me not going to work meant my kids would have to go without food, what would have I done? What would I have done if I were told that there is no place for me in the hospital and I am about to give birth? What would I have done if I was told I couldn’t go out by myself? That I have to wear Burkha all the time? That I could be beaten for no apparent reason? That my daughter can not go to school? That I cannot watch TV/movie/play? That all books are “haaram” except the Quran? Scary, huh? And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. My heart went out once again to all the women out there. Not just in Afghanistan, but all over the world. Afghanistan, Sudan, Bangladesh, US – doesn’t matter where. There are women out there, living in fear, living under oppression, even at this time and age. I need to do something.

I remember seeing an episode of Oprah where she went to see some women being treated in a clinic in South Africa. A lady from US was so moved by the story that she decided to do something for the women. She didn’t have a lot of money, so she started making bracelets for the women with her daughter using simple, colorful beads. Next time when Oprah went back, she took the bracelets with her. You should have seen the smiles on everyone’s faces. No one probably ever stood up for them, let alone gave them anything nice. This small bracelet made them soooo happy. I kept thinking about it before falling asleep. I need to find out something I can do, even if it something as simple as making bead bracelets. My friend Katie is involved with an organization called "Nari Jibon". I need to give her a call.

I am proud to be a woman and thankful for the life I have.

I miss Bangladesh

My mom got a phone call from Bangladesh this weekend. It was from a lady who used to be our neighbor in Chittagong for as long as I can remember. Obviously after my mom came to US to live with me, she lost touch with a lot of people in Bangladesh. This lady was missing my mom so much that she set her son, Morshed, on a manhunt literally. Her son had cell phone numbers that my parents had used in Bangladesh at different times. He called each one and talked to the person answering the phone to figure out if that person knew where my mom is, could give him a number where he can reach my mom. He hit gold when one of those numbers was answered by my phupu. My mom gave my phupu her phone before leaving Bangladesh. So after pleasantries, Morshed got my mom’s cell phone number here and called over the weekend.

I was so touched by this incident. I kept thinking about chachi (as we used to call her) all throughout the weekend. I remember she used to send us Halwas, mistis, different types of pithas almost every week. My sister and I were regular visitors to her kitchen. Both her and her husband adored the two of us since they had three sons and no daughters. Whenever I had gone to Bangladesh in the past, I had always made a point of visiting her since she was always just couple of steps away. Now with Abbu gone and chacha retired, I hear they have relocated to Dhaka to live with their son. I kept thinking would I see them again?

Why do I not meet people like that over here? Is it me? Am I not open enough to people? Or is it really the people in Bangladesh? Are they born to be hospitable towards everyone? Are they more trustworthy towards people? Whatever it is, I am missing my childhood days like crazy.

Reality bites

No matter how grown up I act/am, when it comes to my family, specially my “chacha”s, I still feel like a little girl. I grew up in a joint family, indulged by my uncles and aunts. They are an intricate part of my life, of who I am. I’ve been out of Bangladesh for a long time now and over time I feel like my ties have somewhat loosened with them. Then I see a picture or receive an email from one of them and I just want to throw all my responsibilities away and go sit on their laps just like I used to when I was a little girl and let them tell me that they will be there forever to take care of me, nothing bad will ever happen to me because they will be there to slay the monsters for me.

My Chacha has been sick for some time. I received some pictures from my cousin today. Chachchu looks soooo frail in the pictures. The pictures turned me into a complete emotional wreck today. Life sucks.

On Pins and Needles again

Zoya’s Pediatrician called this morning. She has some new information from the health department and wants to run some tests to see if Zoya has this disorder which would explain all her past medical history. On one hand, this new one seems to fit her. On the other hand, this means taking her to the doctor’s office/hospital again and she soooooooo hates it. I don’t want to put her through any more than she already has been, but a definite answer would put to rest so many unanswered questions/self doubts. It would also mean we can help her more. I need to be strong for this.

Abbu

I cry for my father every day. In the shower, in the middle of the night, on my way to work, at work, while doing the dishes. I think of the last couple of minutes of his life, I play it out in my head over and over and over again. I was in the room when the doctors were trying to resuscitate him. All of it seemed to be happening in slow motion. Seemed like all the doctors, nurses were there. They were talking to each other in a low voice. Everyone seemed calm even though the room was full of flurries. Then they seemed to stop doing whatever they were doing in unison. What! Don't stop! I wanted to scream. The doctor in charge stopped next to me, on his way out, and then walked out without saying a word. That's it? I remember thinking. That's how life ends? I remember getting mad, sad, horrified, worried, crushed, lost - all at the same time. I spent the last 18 days of his life with him, but I didn't tell him all the things I wanted to tell him. I was in denial. I was thinking if I say goodbye, it will somehow quicken the process. I regret that decision every day. I wish I had told him more how much I love him. I wish I had told him how much he meant to me, how much he influenced my life. He was truly a great person. The world is worse off without him.

Zoya turns one today

I am very emotional today. My little girl is turning one. I can't stop thinking what could have happened if her Pediatrician had not sent us to ER on March 16th, 2005. Dr. Hoover and Dr. Uscinski, I can not thank you two enough. Ever.

I plan to dress her up and take pictures with her once daddy gets home. Today is a day of celebration!!

A bad day

I’ve started defining my days as “Good Days” and “Bad Days” now. Today is a bad day for me. I can’t stop thinking about you today. When I think about you nowadays, I think of your eyes first. What were you trying to tell us? Those big, brown eyes staring at us from the sunken face. You wanted to go home so desperately. You had lost your voice by the time I got there. You still asked to go home everyday. Did you know the end was near? Did you want to see all your familiar things one last time? You used to get so mad when the guys came to clean your bandages. Did it hurt a lot? Did it hurt when they cleaned inside your throat? What did you think all those time when you used to stare out the window? Did you think of things you hadn’t experienced? Did you have any regrets? Did you want to have one proper meal for a change? Did you want to tell us something before you let out your last breath?
I have so many things to tell you. So many things I want to ask you. You didn’t get a chance to meet Zoya. You didn’t have time to enjoy your retirement. You didn’t get to see Lizu get married. Why did you have to leave so early!