Where Have All the Lovers Gone??

If you want to know the truth, we are a shameless nation.
with some exceptions, we, the Bangladeshis, in general never use “sorry”, “thank you” “excuse me” or any other polite words when they are needed, let alone..."could you please tell me" or "may I sit here" or "may ask you a personal..." etc etc. we never stand in lines for elevators. We never open doors for ladies. We are bahadur bangalees; we are discourteous, so? What’s the big deal?

On many occasions, I have wondered that if there was an international spitting competition, nobody could stop the Bengal tigers from being the permanent champions... and guess what, we don't even need stadiums, coaches, trainings and other paraphernalia of some other sports that our brave boys are currently trying their hands on and sometimes shitting in their pants when faced with stronger opponents (remember the recent BD-Srilanka test series??). We could easily use our wide roads as spittoons everyday. look at us now....we spit here and there; now and then; when we are angry or when we are sad; from buses or from rickshaws; leisurely or copiously. we spit, whenever wherever ...this is our national pastime.

Then, there is the peeing extravaganza. By public demand, it can also be titled as the national pastime activity jointly with the previous one. I will not elaborate it any further. But if you are a Bangladeshi, you know what I am talking about. It will be infinitely difficult to find a wall in Dhaka that has not been adequately showered by the natural springs. For us, “All the world’s a lavatory… And all menmerely pee-ers." This is how Dhaka works. We are bahadur bangalees; we are crude, so? What’s the big deal?

We are shameless in these aforementioned (and some more) cases… but don’t you think that we lack shame altogether. We get absolutely tongue-tied with shame and embarrassment whenever it is “Love” that we are dealing with.

Love. Yes... whenever we see people in love, we, the bangalees are disturbed. We say this and that... we criticize and comment. Lovers are a forbidden race here in this pseudo conservative Islamic state. But still young men and women all over Bangladesh fall in love. Like everywhere else, they make promises and break them; they share moments of delight or pangs of separation. But public display of affection is an absolute no-no.

So where do the lovers go?

Ten years back, lovers used to go to the Chinese restaurants and chat over a bowl of chicken corn soup for 3 hours. It was cost-effective for the lovers… a table for two in the corner… half-dark with dim blue bulbs… faint background music and a steaming bowl soup. Who doesn’t know that darkness and soup always have had positive effects on the lovers’ health? The restaurant owners, however, soon realized that their profit in business was inversely proportionate with those 3 hours of love-talks. The good restaurants stopped serving chicken corn soup only. They would only take orders for a full meal … soup, appetizer, main dish, side dishes, beverage and desert. Lovers, as we know, universally run short of cash. Chinese restaurants were soon crossed out of their lists.

Next came the fast food places with fancy and ambitious names like Pizza Corner, Pizza Place, Pizza Palace and Pizza Howdy. Lovers went there and found out that they sold everything but pizzas . They sell small kababs inside small buns and call them Burgers; they also sell big kababs inside a big buns; and call them Hotdogs. . The prices were high but privacy was low. Moreover, those places were heavily lighted. Some places with dim lights like Big Bite (no pun intended) and some with affordable price like Arabian Fast Food managed to retain their places in the lovers’ lists; others were soon closed down.

Then came many lounges and many cafes. The lounge sofas would always be occupied by snooty teenage wanna-bees and the cafes were all appropriated by all those arty pretentious bores. Lovers would always feel out-of-place in their company. We, the bangalees (both snooty and arty), frowned at them… got irritated at their small signs of affection. You know, We don’t like to see public display of affection. Pissing in public is acceptable to us but kissing in public is absolutely intolerable. We are bahadur Bangalees; we are hypocrites. so? whats the big deal?

The lovers soon found their haunts. Lovers from the southern part of the city now go to the good old Dhaka University Campus. Rumor has it that Fuller Road and TSC are the two hottest spots. The place is green and open.; in addition to that, for hungry lovers (no pun again), there are innumerable Badam, Chanachur and Jhalmuri vendors; and all at an affordable price. Lovers have realized that the most other men and women who populate these places belong to the universal brotherhood of lovers themselves.


Rich lovers from the northern part of the town are still suffering from lack of dating places. How long one can browse through the mushrooming fast food stores and restaurants, they have complained. They have demanded for an affordable place for lovers in this locality. The price of loving in this area is high just as the price of any other thing. Rumor also has it that they are planning to hold a procession demanding a lover’s lane. After the emergency is over, that is.

Not-so-rich lovers from the northern part of the city, however, have come up with a unique solution. Garments workers, motor mechanics, domestic helps and rickshaw pullers are now redefining the dating culture. They take a bus up to the Mohakhali fly-over and meet their beloved there. Then, together, they walk up to the middle of the bridge holding each others hands. Then standing by the railing, they do their small love-talks. Buses carrying bahadur bangalees discharge diesel smoke at them; Speeding cars of unsatisfied rich lovers whoosh past them. They remain oblivious to the surrounding....the traffic, dust and smoke. From the temporarily elevated level, the dirty old Dhaka resonates of love and hope for them. We the Bahadur Bangalees curse them from our caves. Chi Chi, What has the desh become?? No lojja… No shorom…. All these people holding hands on the flyover. It is prohibited to even walk on a flyover abroad. Chi chi… There is no niyom in this desh.

And it goes on....

A friend recently told me, "you are just as vulnerable as you seem". We are bahadur bangalees; we are love-haters, so what? no big deal. As long as we don't proclaim our vulnerabilities to others, we live happily ever after in our glasshouses.