Exploring Bangaliyana: A week with Dad in Bangladesh (2 of 2)
Day 5 — Midnight ragas
A definite highlight of the trip was the 6th Bengal Classical Music Festival. We flew back to Dhaka to catch the five-night long reunion of musicians, joining hundreds and thousands on grassy grounds under starry skies.
From 7pm-5am it was the most powerful vocals, rythms that reach directly inside your heart, majestic instruments and dance by globally renowned artistes from both India and Bangladesh. Dad had never seen anything like it, but he was even more shocked at how attentive the huge audience of mostly young people were. The festival organisers said that the rapport with the audience was so warm that at one point Pandit Hariprasad had offered to bring a truck laden with flutes so the audience could all learn to play the instrument.
We fell asleep on our chairs in total serenity with the flute of Pandit Ronu Majumdar and the sarod of Pandit Debojyoti Bose.
Day 6 — The heart of Bengal
After spending time in the middle and the south of the country we drew a line upwards on the map. It took an entire day to get to Rajshahi, but we shared the trip with winding avenues of trees continually meeting across the road and a spectacular patchwork of bright green rice fields and golden mustard flower fields in full bloom. We stopped in a massive field of tomatoes, spoilt ourselves with bananas and ice cream by the roadside and fell in love with the 753 acres of misty jungle that is the University of Rajshahi. Dad was amazed and amused: “I thought this country didn’t have any space? All those people in Dhaka living on top of each other. Don’t they know about Rajshahi?!”.
Once one of the world’s most polluted cities, Rajshahi’s long hot summers used to be particularly difficult. The windows would have to be shut because the smog was so thick. Then it hit a turning point so dramatic that it earned a spot in the record books: according to UN data, it did more than any other city worldwide to rid itself of air particles harmful to human health.
Rajshahi does not have a large industrial area, and its streets are not clogged with cars, but the air was unliveable. The chimneys and fuel used in its brick kilns were changed, a campaign was implemented that encompassed everything from planting trees to transport to rubbish collection, a fleet of battery-powered rickshaws were imported from China as the main form of public transport, large lorries were banned from the city centre during the day, a ‘zero soil’ (only grass, flowers or pavement) programme was implemented and the city’s — and the country’s — first cycle lanes were introduced. Urban authorities are rarely loved in Bangladesh, but in Rajshahi they are adored. Dad adored the idea of the city council taking over the management of Dhaka.
After appreciating the new, we headed to the old — the historical town of Gaur, cut in half when the border was drawn between what is now India and what is now Bangladesh. Choto Shona (Small Golden) Mosque was the first destination, in nearby Chapai Nawabganj. We arrived during prayers and watched hundreds of people assemble under the fifteen domes. While these priceless pieces of history could definitely be preserved better, there was a beauty to the fact that they are filled with people, and many of them young people.
Tahakhana Palace was the next stop. Built in the ancient Gauda style, the Sultan of Bengal, Shah Shuja, founded it as a ‘Temperature Control Unit’. It is not only beautiful and covered in intricate motifs, but it stays cool in the summer and warm in the winter. The palace’s staircases lead down to a huge pond and both cold and hot water could be supplied through terracotta pipe to the hammam in the complex.
Next was painting. Dad loves art. I took him to Santal Polli.
From the outside it looks like many other villages.
As you walk closer, you start to see patterns painted in white on clay walls.
You enter and you never want to never leave. They are real-life tree houses, Peter Pan-style. Imagine climbing a clay staircase.
All the houses are built around shared open-air courtyards filled with trees, mazes of hay piles, cows and open shared cooking spaces.
Everything is peaceful, green and cool to touch. All the surfaces are canvases, and each have a different design.
Red and yellow flowers meet the tall green trees of a forest, which have been drawn next to smooth white waves, next to an ochre man carrying scales and a small line of animals in blue and green.
The paintings are done just once a year, at Puja. Most of what is shown here in these photos was done by one young girl in the community.
Every animal in the area had its own designated space to sleep in and own dish to eat from. All of the eaves of the roofs were lined with clay pots that housed pigeons. The cows were the most peaceful we had seen. Dad and I instantly agreed that the Santals were the warmest people we had met on the trip. He loved the art. (“Who needs a museum. Just use the bloody wall. Onya mate”.)
We couldn’t leave the city of silk without buying a piece of famed Rajshahi silk. We ventured into Sopura Silk Mills, and unexpectedly got an entire lesson on how it is made. Next to the showroom was a permanent exhibition where we could see the entire process, from tiny silk worms munching on leaves to the raw silk ready to be spun into thread. Both Dad and I were a little taken aback by the process, and inspired to look after the precious silk we had just purchased.
Day 8 — An ancient dynasty of lost kings and queens
Our last day in the north was spent in Puthia, wandering through the largest cluster of historic temples in the country. The temples are all dedicated to different Hindu gods, and are laid out on a sprawling lawn around a huge lake dotted with tiny boats. The Puthia Royal Family estate was the wealthiest in British Bengal, but were forced to flee to India after the then Pakistani government abolished the zamindary system and confiscated all Hindu properties during Partition.
We admired the divine romance between Krishna and Radha depicted on the Pancharatna Gobinda Temple and ran our hands across the ornate terracotta walls of the Bhubaneshwar Shiva Temple, the largest Shiva temple in Bangladesh, and home to the largest Shiva Linga.
Dad fell in love with the magnificant Puthia Palace and its beautifully landscaped courtyards and gardens. The palace is a two storied building with magnificent Corinthian columns and wide hanging balconies exquisitely decorated with floral patterns and coloured tiles. It is constructed like a fort — a safe distance from the marauding Portuguese pirates which came down the Padma River, surrounded by a deep moat and only accessible to the village through narrow walkways which could easily be blocked in case of danger. Below the palace is an extensive prison complete with a well in the ground floor that death row prisoners were thrown into.
Standing on the rooftop felt majestic, but bittersweet — I couldn’t help but wonder how many of those death row prisoners were simply farmers who had suffered a bout of bad luck and couldn’t pay their taxes.
And then just like that, I was left with only one conclusion — that there is so much more to learn about Bangliyana. The history and culture of the land of Bangla could be explored forever, and the mindset contains so many lessons that are needed in this generation, both in Bangladesh and beyond. If you haven’t already, go and experience Bangladesh. Take time, drink a lot of tea and pack a sense of adventure. You’ll be rewarded :)
Words: Sarah-Jane Saltmarsh / Photos: © Kamrul Hasan, Sarah-Jane Saltmarsh and other characters we met along the way.
