A Story of Hatred

Once when I was visiting a Chakma family in Rangamati, ( a south-eastern hill district of Bangladesh, home to Chakma ethnic group ) I was asked a strange question by a little Chakma boy, " Will you eat me ( alive )? ". To anyone it might sound like a funny question of a little kid but, there is a very serious reason behind this question. For some reason, that boy believed that, we ( Bangalis/ Muslims ) eat Chakmas alive( readers who don't know about CHT conflict please follow http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chittagong_Hill_Tracts_Conflict ). I don't know why such a little boy asked me that questions. I mean, he is too young to understand the political crisis going on in that region. I guess he must have heard horrible stories from his mother or any other elder about Bangalis killing or in allegorical sense, eating Chakmas. I laughed at his question and mockingly said, " Yes, i'll eat you alive ". However, I felt the emotion underneath the question, 'hatred'.


Subcontinent has a long history of hatred. We hate outsiders. Ironically we hate each other the most. We are even proud of it as far as it is not a matter of real shame. In 1857  Indian soldiers of East India Company began a mutiny. This mutiny is mentioned with pride in our history book. Do you know what did these heroes do just after they had took control of Delhi? They slaughtered all  Christians and Whites of Delhi. But that is way insignificant compared to the Hindu- Muslim riot during India-Pakistan division. I remember once my father pinched my grandfather by saying that Bangladesh should have been a part of India. My grandfather became so angry that he replied, " Selim ( my father's name ), you should go to India. When you'll be kicked  by the Hindus then you'll learn a lesson. ". My grandfather had business in Calcutta before 1947. He had to leave his business behind because of the separation or may be because of the riot. No wonder, he hated Indians ( or Hindus as he said ).


In 1971 Bangladesh got independence from Pakistan through a blood shaded war. As a result, now many of us hate Pakistan. Furthermore, our media promote this hatred. It occurs that hating Pakistan has become a part of our patriotism. Few days earlier, one astrology writer of a popular newspaper of Bangladesh wrote that he was ashamed for something terrible he did in his youth. The terrible deed was, reciting poem on the radio on the occasion of Jinnah's birthday!!  Sometimes I wonder, how come all Pakistani responsible for 1971.

Discrete Strings

1

Drops of rain

like the neuron chain

mix in the wind with memory drain.

2

Sounds are blurred

but the Sight is clear.

I try to speak but no one hear.

3

Open the window

let the sunlight in.

Let me see what you have seen.

4

By my wall I stand alone.

Close is the window

where the shadows moan.

5

I lock myself

in the prison of fate.

I drop my letters at the heaven's gate.

6

Thoughts I think

and the dreams I dream

are filling into Discrete Strings!!!