Meeting Abdul Khaleq - Muri Wala on the day of Nobo borsho 1425

Unexpectedly, I am assailed by his sarcastic tone, “খাইবা না ত জানি “(you are not eating this, I know). I am embarrassed by his words, wondering how he knows that! Cleverly, I hide my embarrassment and try to strike a conversation. Although I know I must get back home soon for today’s special lunch.

Today is April 14^th, the first day of the Bengali new year and it is our national holiday. I have known this for many years but I never knew that, over the past three decades, the magnitude of celebration of this secular festival day has expanded and this has become an enormous event. The first day of the “Nobo borsho” (New year) has indeed truly integrated everyone from every stratum of life. As I wander around the Boishakhi fair on the edge of Dhanmondi lake, I am lost in vibrant colors, and innocent joy and happiness. It is my euphoric moment.

I glance around me and observe an abundance of new hope, new light in peoples’ expressions: people beating their drums, believing that they are beating away all evil forces and dreaming about a joyous future. Men, women, and children wearing colorful traditional dresses, greeting each other saying “Shuvo Nobo borso” (happy new year)! - they are merry, excited and indulging to their heart’s content! The air is filled with a tone of harmony, regardless of religion, gender, class or age. While Falgun ushers spring with a mellowness, Boishakh, the first month of Bengali new year, gives it vibrancy, a symbol of renewed life in nature. In unison with nature, women adorn their hair with flowers and wear colorful bangles, epitomizing the colors and the renewed life in nature. I marvel at an affectionate father’s lulling, “বাবা  আপুর  হাতটা  ধরে  ওখানে   দাঁড়াও, একটা ছবি তুলব (darling, please hold your sister’s hand and I will take your photo).”

In this period of globalization, when technology is within everyone’s easy reach, Bangladeshis are not behindeither. I am happy and delighted to observe as I unbashfully stalk their unlimited selfie clicks ….they are storing their own roots, heritage, strength and courage! The glimpses of so many people out on the street and in the fair, I feel its positive energy in my core.

Now it is time for me to finish my wondrous visit of “Nobo borsho mela” (first day of Bengali new year celebration fair)” and I should be heading towards home. Then, serendipitously, I encounter a peddler under a mango tree busy selling his “Jhal Muri” (spicy puff rice).

I stop at a little distance from him and start watching him –  how quickly he takes his order from his standing customer,mixeshis puff rice (মুড়ি) in a plastic mug with some of his special spices from a jar, that he fills up every morning with his own concoctedmix of spices,and throws some chopped onion mixed with green chilis from another container. Then, with a spoon, he gives the mix a hurricane like swirl and pours it in his own handmade paper cup. He sticks a little rectangular cut up paper (to use it as a spoon), before he hands the “Jhal muri” (spicy puff rice) filled cup to his awaiting customer. And he never forgets to ask his customer if he/she will use this improvised cut up paper as spoon, and if they don’t he doesn’t give his paper cut up spoon to them. His argument: they cost him money. He buys these office waste paper from a nearby office and in the evening, cuts them into small pieces for the next day use. Listening to him I am awestruck  – what a unique paper recycling process! I keep looking at him and thinking - he is not an environmentalist but he has knowledge of it! 

Every morning, he assembles his basket with different containers filled with the ingredients for his special “Jhal Muri”(spicy puff rice) mix before he leaves for his hawking job.

I see him being very busy, and I am gradually getting impatient with my itch to talk to him, but then again I am hesitant to interrupt his ordering string. I am also thinking about Rashida, Kajol (our domestic helpers), all dressed in new clothes and they have their bangles on too, all for today’s celebration. I know they are all waiting for my return. Until I come home and we all eat our special lunch they can not come to this “Nobo borso mela” and have fun. Now I am in a big dilemma and it is beginning to unsettle me!  Then suddenly I hear his voice.

I gather my thoughts and realize it’s a slow time for him now. When he finds that I am just standing there not placing any order, he knows I have other intentions. I very apologetically tell him, “I need to go home soon, so I can’t eat his sumptuous Jhal Muri now. But later I will look for him.”

Abdul Khaleq is a very lively Muri wala. ….

He has been selling “Jhal Muri” for thirty-three years in this Dhanmondi lake area. During school hours he takes his “Jhal Muri” basket in front of the school gates and after school hours he brings his basket to this lake side. People who are idling and enjoying the lake likes to munch his special “Jhal Muri”. Today is a special day, an auspicious day for his hawking. He tells me his average day selling runs around Taka 700/800. Then abruptly he says, “তোমার চাচী দেশে থাকে। আমি মেস এ থাকী আরো তিন জনের লগে। একটা রান্নার মাইয়া দুই বেলা রান্না কইরা দেয়” (your aunt lives in the village), his affectionate mention of his wife touched me. His spontaneously narrates his boarding life with three other peddlers in a mess with a cooking lady cooking their meal twice a day. He shares her salary with his roommates. I see a very simple man who misses his family and wants to converse too.  

Then I notice a little girl waiting to place an order for her “Jhal Muri” and I do not want to keep her waiting any longer. Before I depart, I give Abdul Khaleq a five hundred taka note that I had in my hand (I had brought with me to the fair in case I would see something interesting to buy), and say, “পরে একদিন এসে খাব। ভাল থাকবেন।” (I will come back another day and eat your Muri, stay well). He takes the note and says, “তেত্রিশ বছর কাটলো মুড়ি বেচা ছারতে পারলাম না” (its been thirty-three years and I have not been able to leave this business)!

I know why!

He had told me earlier. His twenty-six year old only son suddenly passed away few years ago. He was an educated guy working for an office. I did not have any courage to ask him more about his son….. but felt a sharp pain in my heart for him.