Our car has to take a detour from Dhanmondi Road 27 because of traffic congestion in front of Genetic Plaza, the new hub for getting glass bangles -- one of the must wearable accessories for women on Pahela Baishakh. The boy who was collecting fares in the Leguna in front of our car showed huge acrobatic skills to aim at a hanging green mango from his moving vehicle, and the fruit yielded to the will of this young conductor. A huge grin spliced his face as he collected the Baishakhi delicacy while rushing back to his post. The smile of the boy, who was hardly 10, made me smile, and I saw all the passengers were also smiling with him. This is the true joy of Baishakh that we celebrate.
The beginning of the New Year with a smile is all that matters: some may find joy in a clay pot of rural food enriched by the presence of fried Hilsa; some may find the smile by loitering aimlessly in the streets while seeing and being seen; some may find the smile in participating in the grand gala where the extraordinary artists are performing for the ordinary; some may find joy in becoming a cultural tourist or going native for a day; some may find joy in milking money while others may find comfort in buying future memory; some may find the smile by immersing in an illusory national identity while embracing many imported mannerisms and rituals.
The seeds of Chhayanat's resistance against the encroachment of Urdu became the banyan tree of Ramna of all our cultural shelter. The educated middle class, who were at the forefront of forging a national consciousness, came mostly from the University of Dhaka. They have been the symbolic Nor'westers that usher in changes. They have been there to administer the emergence of Bangladesh, the reemergence of democracy. They are the proverbial fluttering flag of the new like a Kaalbaishakhi storm.