This is part two of a series by Dhaka Shohor, who visited Desh recently. Part one is here. Please direct comments appropriately. — JR
These posts will contain inappropriate language, rampant racism/sexism/age-ism, random references to things good Bangladeshi boys and girls are not supposed to know about until one day they get married and magically become experts. — DS
It is 2005 and I am at university. New continent, new country, new friends, new music. On those faraway shores for the first time I hear Gari chole na, Bioscope and Chader Shohorey. It’s also the first time I have good friends from Bangla-medium schools. Because over there, away from Dhaka’s status games, we are all Bangladeshi first.
Chikna is one of those friends.
So is Guitarman.
Standing there on the beach at Cox’s Bazar on 31 December 2011, I remembered both fondly. But I also remembered how awkward it was with Chikna during the first couple of years. He would tend to make snide remarks about English-medium students or “Dhaka’s elite” every chance he got. Guitarman was too much of a gentleman to ever join in.