Parked at a comfortable corner at the waiting area of the Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, I was awaiting my flight to Dhaka along with other passengers headed to different destinations. As far as my vision went, I could see a myriad of colours, faces, heads, people, luggage, and hear a multitude of announcements, voices, squabbles, tongues and noise. It seemed like I was in some cosmopolitan country, where being an Indian felt strange. There were many Indians, correction, NRIs around who only resembled that they once belonged to my beloved India. Of these, the older generations might have even spoken in a familiar tongue and accent, but the current crop looked, behaved and spoke completely foreign. It made me wonder whether they would be Indian at heart, or even belong here, if ever their families decide to relocate to their incredible Motherland.
It was as if I was getting a ring-side view of the whole world sitting here. The little play pen near Gate No.4 was a playground for several Indian, Pakistani, British and Thai kids. The area had turned into a mini Olympic enclosure, with all the participants playing together and thoroughly enjoying themselves. If only we could take this example and peace could be established across the world.
Amidst the din, my ears caught the boarding announcement of my flight. I moved towards the gate with mixed feelings. Happy to be setting off to a new and unexplored destination, but sad to leave this global terminal bustling with activity.
Although this assignment came as a surprise, but it seemed destined. I had renewed my passport a month ago and my boss wanted me to go to Dhaka. I was excited at the prospect, but there was truly an apprehension since this was my maiden overseas official venture and I was going to be my soul guardian there.
Since it was only work for those two days, I couldn’t fulfil my desire to take a city tour. From whatever I captured, Dhaka is like any other modern city with its shortcomings. The main hub has broad roads, hotels, markets and restaurants. However, the factories are located in a separate zone located at the city outskirts and the roads here are not very good. Shabby Maruti 800 cars are used as taxis which tarnish the modernity. Further, the auto-rickshaw drivers are caged to save themselves from being knifed by local rouges. It’s also rumoured that most industries are run by an unethical lot.
Having said all this, it was interesting to note that the people and language of the capital city of Bangladesh (erstwhile East Bengal) brought certain warmth in me. It was a learning experience and I’m surely looking forward to revisit so that I can familiarise myself more with our neighbour.
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