The New Nation - Internet Edition

Campaign

Abu Bakar Siddiquee

The sub divisional and district towns as well as the capital city are vibrating with the election fever. The remote rural areas has also become lively being decked in posters, leaflets, festoons, banners, and stirred by the overwhelming outbursts of cheering crowd's slogan for their respective candidates. In this instant all are inquisitive --- who will win the contest!

None is sure who will win in the ensuing election. But the irrefutable fact is that in every constituency only one candidate will be the winner and the rest will be the losers. Not only in the constituency, in the parliament also one party will get victory over the other parties availing a majority of seat. Of course, amongst the winner some independent candidate will also be enlisted; again, there will be some electoral triumphant, either from a specific locality or from a strong stubborn ideological party. Usually these are the classic pattern in the democratic polling system.

This time the electoral contest is based on two special issues: One major party is in favor of having only one person as the Head of the State as well as the Head of the Government, but the other major party wants that separate person should head the State and the Government. The great intellectuals of the country are continually bringing forward their logical arguments upon these different theories in the special column of the renowned dailies and weekly magazines. Some of them are analyzing multiple events of the past in support of their reasoning and some are rebutting those by depicting the chain of historical events and drawing the picture of monarchial waywardness.

I work for a person, a distinguished one, of the country; if I simply ornament him with the single word 'distinguished', it won't reckon his qualities as a whole. He is a socially conscious intellect researcher who goes with the zeitgeist. He goes through the books throughout his working period; underlines some lines and chapters with red marker; and arranges the books in chronological order. Then he hands over those to me. I accurately type the entire red mark portion. Some of the writings are in colloquial dialect and some are in chaste language. I convert all in modern colloquial language. Once the whole thing is typed he titles the rechauffe, corrects syntax mistakes and vernacular error, if any. Then he reads the whole article thoroughly several times, search for spelling mistakes, and finally examines whether the text of his composition is conforming to the morality of the newspaper, in which it is to be published. Lastly he embellishes the writing with a few startling artistic words and order me for final typing.

That day, as usual, I was busy in my work; the intellect researcher absorbed in plowing the books with tricks to fructify, just then the calling bell rang. Being annoyed I left the computer, opened the door and went towards the gate. I found two girls, pretty and smartly dressed, standing outside with a restless gesture. One of them uttered the name of the distinguished intellect researcher and enquired,

'Is he in home now?'

I replied in affirmative.

'We want to meet him,' the other girl said.

'Please wait a bit. I have to ask his permission.' I went inside to inform.

The intellect researcher paced towards the gate to greet those two beautiful girls and escorted them in his drawing room. One of the girls was wearing goggles. Entering the room she placed the black goggles from her eyes to her upper forehead, then with a distinct pronunciation humbly said,

'Sir, I am Shraboni and she is Laboni. We came here to convey you a special good wish.'

It could not be speculated what the intellect understood; he said,

'Good wishes are always auspicious. But you didn't say your occasion of offering this good wish.'

Smiling enigmatically Loboni, the other girl, said,

'Of course, sir, we will let you know you. Actually that's the reason we have come here.'

The cute Shraboni continued,

'Sir, this rotating world is continuously changing with time; along with that we people are also changing a lot. In every morning thousands of new thoughts are being implanted in people's mind, in the evening the darkness is removed by dazzling lights; there lies the flow of life, the trend of modernism.'

'Right you are!' The researcher asserted, ' it won't be of any good if the progress of the world remain static. As this world is dynamic, as the potentiality of mankind is vast, this planet and its inhabitants should have to prosper in succession. Can we feel in this speedy world at what velocity we are moving on, what is the momentum of our body per second?' He became emotional.

With the swiftness of lightening cute Shraboni trailed off,

'Indeed, sir, you are right. Just like the diurnal motion of this earth and the annual rotation of this planet, our wisdom and knowledge has its own surge and there is a strong flow in our political system also.

The intellectual researcher said nothing; perhaps he was trying to integrate the real context of those two stranger's conversation. Hesitantly with a taunt smile he asked,

'What do you like to have, hot or cold?'

'It's very hot today, cold drink won't be a bad choice, sir.' The smart Laboni answered. Shraboni also nodded her head giving an assent to Laboni's suggestion.

I took three glasses, filled up with ice-cooled coke and served in a tray.

Laboni sipped the drink; conversationally she asked,

'Sir, which ideology you are supporting in the ensuing election, presidential or parliamentary?'

At this question the researcher fell into an adverse situation; his many writings concerning the political issues are published in the dailies and magazines for the last three months, but he has never made any comment, expressed any opinion nor gave any comprehensive solutions to the problems; only the analyses of political ideologies and interpretation of various doctrines strongly reflected in his writings to build up immense agitation amongst the political parties. From his writings no one could guess which idea he supports on; till today, I myself also failed to cognize his political belief.

To be free from the net of undesired question he changed the subject of conversation.

'Are you engaged in surveying public opinion in the ensuing election?' he asked.

Bursting into a loud laughter cute Shraboni replied,

'Sir, we don't have the competency of surveying people's opinion in favor or oppose of the poll. Such type of tough work could be performed only by the great intellectuals of the country like you, sir, We are trifle people and have come here for a trifling job; of course that job is concerned to polling.'

She removed the goggles from her head, kept it in her bag, and took a sip of the cold drink.

'I have the fortune to hear many stories from my mother regarding election. Out of them one story impressed me much. Whenever I think of the story, I wonder, so many years back, how the storywriter could thought of a diverse theme like this one.' She said.

'What sort of?' the intellectual wanted to know.

'Perhaps you also know the story. I am telling of those days while my mother appeared in the Matriculation Examination; a Bangla book named 'Golpo-bithi' was included in her syllabus for rapid reading. It contained a story named 'Chadmabeshi', meaning 'In Disguise'. As far as I remember my mother mentioned the name of Mr. Abul Mansur Ahmed to be its writer.

Hearing the name of the writer the intellectual became excited. In order to show off his vast perimeter of knowledge he exclaimed,

'Oh! That Mr. Abul Mansur, a great politician and a skilled writer of Bengal in British period! His great book 'Fifty years of Politics' is superb, I think there is no other creative political book in Bangla literature comparable with it.'

Shraboni said wittily,

'You are right, sir. That litterateur had created a unique, sensational excellent sarcasm relating election. Now coming to the point, what I have been telling, one day Mr. Abul Mansur was absorbed in his literary work; right at that moment somebody knocked at the door making a sound with the metallic ring of the gate, just like we press the electric bell today. Mr. Abul Mansur sent his house servant to know who is at the door. The servant saw a man and looking at his dress thought him to be a beggar. He reported accordingly. Mr. Abul Mansur gave a coin of one anna to his servant and said,

'Give this to that beggar.'

The beggar refused to take the coin. When his servant reported it Mr. Mansur gave a coin of four annas, that is one-quarter of a rupee, and said,

'Give this and close the gate.'

But the beggar was not happy. The servant came back. This time Mr. Mansur offered a coin of half rupee and uttered,

'Get rid of that nuisance.'

Strange! The servant returned helplessly, said,

'He won't take this eight annas.'

Now Mr. Mansur became really annoyed, wrathfully he gave a coin of one rupee and rebuked the servant,

'You don't know how to make a beggar happy? However, turn him out.'

Yet the beggar didn't get away. With a great distress the servant returned and said,

'This beggar is not happy with any amount, sir,' he begged, 'I think you better see him.'

Angrily Mr. Mansur walked straight to the beggar and asked,

'You are not satisfied even with a silver coin, will you tell me what would make you happy?'

Now the beggarly dressed man revealed his real identity and said,

'Sir, I'm a political candidate begging votes in disguise of beggar. I have come to beg your vote, I will be happy with your support.'

The story made all of them laughs aloud. The intellectual enthusiastically vouched,

'Great! the dexterity of Mr. Monsur is unparallel. This is really a unique story.'

Blowing a deep sigh he said,

'But at present the candidates starting from member of ward to member of parliament, even the party leaders begging votes from the public openly in the procession, conference, meetings; it has become a routine affair; the news media also publicizing these widely. What an amazing situation! Say, would be President or Prime minister is asking for votes from the public in clasped hand, through the electronic or radio frequency media. What should we term it, revolution or attainment of the goal at any cost! '

The intellect researcher almost cried out,

'Hey, Mr. Mansur, if you were alive you could see where your reverend leaders have landed today.' There is an enigmatic note of desperation in his voice.

Witty Laboni totally ignored the exasperation and frustration of the researcher and replied quickly,

'But sir, we have come here with a special good wish.'

He shrugged the exasperation and responded readily,

'Well, tell me what's your that wish.'

Cute Shraboni opened her handbag, brought out a newly bloomed red rose wrapped in a transparent paper, a slick of dew were still glistened in the petals.

With a blushful look she smiled radiantly and presented the flower to him. Theatrically she said,

'Sir, this is our rosy-wish, in the ensuing election our symbol is rose and here is our candidate.'

Smart Laboni immediately placed a colored poster in front of him.

Smiling warmly charming Shraboni uttered,

'Sir, you have already agreed that good wish is always auspicious. So we earn your vote. What do you say to?'

With a stunt surprise the intellect looked up at those two lustrous pretty girls and discovered the success of rose-red friendliness over their cheeks.

(Translator: Razia Khanam. Original story in Bangla: Procharon)

Green School

Mohammad Shahidul Islam

In front of a chalkboard banner that says "ENERGY," fifth-grade teacher Tamanna Ferdous at an esteemed English medium school of Dhaka shakes a plastic bag at her classroom.

"Plastic!" several children roar.

"What is it made from?" she asks.

"Oil!"

In the next classroom, a young girl in green dress with a clipboard asks a teacher if he turns off classroom lights during class breaks and when the room is empty. The teacher nods, and the girl checks the "yes" box on a worksheet entitled "Green Investigation Team."

Dissecting the garbage after a typical lunch, several children wrinkle their noses at the piles of juice boxes, plastic bags, straws, and lunch-item containers they are separating with metal tongs.

They are not yet old enough to drive a solar-powered car, build an energy-efficient home, or vote, but six- to 11-year-olds at the school, are doing what they can to save energy.

The less energy used, the less greenhouse gas enters the atmosphere, notes the principal Tahmina Danesh. "If we all do something, it is going to contribute positively, even if it is in a small way."

The school's conservation program took off one year ago when Ms Danesh was approached by an INGO that distributes a curriculum called Green Earth.

The NGO also helps faculty and janitorial staff plan green programs. In the first 2 month2 of the 6 months program involves training staff in energy, solid waste, and water conservation; the second 2 months emphasizes implementation; and the third 2 months focuses on school energy audits.

The NGO opines, there should arise many participating schools in Bangladesh to contribute to saving the country from Climate Change.

Litterless lunches and "cool school days" are two of the results to grow out of the enthusiasm of the staff, teachers, and students at the school. During the summer, once a week the children come to school in light dresses and the AC and Fan are turned off - dropping the school's considerable carbone emissions.

Twice a month on litterless lunch days, students like 11 year-old Sabera bring bulk food items for lunch. Afterwards, a "green team" collects the trash each class makes and analyzes what food items students should avoid in order to create less garbage.

It must be working. In the main hallway of the school, a 6-foot-wide line graph shows that the school has saved 35,499 kilowatts of electricity, 487 gigajoules of natural gas, and 5 lacks in cash in the last 6 months. One third of the cash savings will be used to fund future conservation programs.

The children's learning and example extend beyond the classroom. Several parents, inspired by their children's conservation efforts, began holding social parties to raise funds for the school's conservation efforts.

The goal is to raise the kids' consciousness, and then it starts seeing changes in the greater community..

Sabera's mother, Mamtaz Chowdhury, says her family used to be "really self-centered." But when her daughter made an issue of practicing conservation at home, she had an epiphany: "Wow, I am a part of this big world." She reports, her daughter Sabera has also composed a green poem. The poem is:

"Our blue-green planet

Our blue planet is…

River-blue, Antarctic blue,

Deep-sea-blue, pond-blue,

Ice-blue, lake blue,

Seal-blue, walrus-blue.

Shark-whale-blue, jellyfish blue,

Dolphin-blue, hippopotamus-blue,

butterfly-blue, peacock-blue,

Forget-me-not-blue, bluebell-blue.

Our green planet is…

Stem-green, leaf-green,

Seaweed-green, cactus-green,

Lily-pad-green, holly-green,

Tree-green, forest-green.

Kiwi-green, apple-green,

Green-bean-green, cress-green,

Peppermint-green, coriander-green,

Gherkin-green, cucumber-green.

Snake-green, grasshopper-green,

Caterpillar-green, stink-bug-green,

Parrot-green, chameleon-green,

Crocodile-green, frog-green.

Let's protect our blue-green planet!"

Geography teacher Ms Sultana, Green Earth most active supporter, says that elementary school students are especially receptive to learning about conservation, and they are learning more than facts. They are finding out where energy comes from and sharpening critical thinking skills.

The implications for little Sabera are very simple: "The world is going to be worse if we waste everything up."

The article is imaginatively written

Book review: Gramer Manush Grameen Arthonity

(Jibon Jibikar Poribortan Porjalochona)

By Abdul Bayes and Mahabub Hossain

First published in August 2007

By Writers' Foundation Bangladesh

Cover by Hashem Khan

Price taka 300 in US 4 10

For students taka 200 only

The book of Gramer Manush Grameen Aurthonity (Jibon Jibikar Poribortan Porjalochona) is the joint outcome of Abdul Bayes, former Vice Chancellor of Jahangirnagar University and Mahabub Hossain, Executive Director of BRAC and former head of Social Science of the Manila based international rice research institute IRRI. They needed two decades to bring the book to light. Dr. Abul Azad published 528 pages volume on behalf of The Writers' Foundation Bangladesh and Swaraj Publication. Renowned artiste Hashem Khan has designed the cover of four colours

The Swaraj Publication and Mass Publication based at Aziz Super Market has undertaken the task of distribution.

It is notable there is no end of the research on the miseries of the rural people and the rural areas. Most of the researches are the analysis of the evolution of the agriculture and non-agricultural matters.

But there has not been so many comparative and informative studies on the rural people's right to property and savings, life skills, formation of wealth, its after effect and the like issues and the results thereof in the past.

The objective of publishing this book is to fulfill the research gap in the matter of rural people and rural economy.

In other words, it is an effort to produce before the readers the strategic changes in the rural people's struggles for survival and Bangladesh's rural economy and its impact on their income and poverty in the past decades. And to know this, it is necessary first to learn the history of the agricultural and non-agricultural activities that took place in the villages and how did it influence the lifestyle of the poor.

In their studies, the researchers selected three periods, 1988, 2000 and 2004, and singled out the socio-economic conditions prevailing in 62 villages. In the history of Bangladesh, this is the first time that an endeavour has been made to identify the greater people's socio-economic changes.

So, it became imperative to work on different people and clans and tribes. As a result, donor countries and agencies may be benefitted from the perusal of this book.

Students and teachers of colleges and varsities as well can derive profits, particularly those who work on rural economy and rural people.

Reviewed by Dr. Zakirul Huq

Asoka: A tree of gladness

M. Mizanur Rahman

She asked me,"Are you free?

'So long I am with yout.',

I asserted.

Seldom one asked me,

'What's liberty'?

Life is challenging,

What I allways noted.

Liberty is nothing else

While procuring rice and bread

This tree of gladness is mute-

When I remain unfed.

I am aback with its flower

In the spring without fruit.

Winter

Md. Maiz Uddin

Winter strikes with its biting cold

To have courage and be extraordinary bold

To break the chain and undue claims

reforming the society by bringing change.

Winter as a source

To become cautious, anxious and brave

For the national upliftment to save.

Winter with biting cold teaches to have

patience strength and tranquillity,

And to live in society.

A trembling destitute on the street

begging his alms for survival on

the critical and complex world,

His belongings are not in a heap

But sorrow and sufferings in a deep.

Crying needs of the poor make them cripple

Broken-heart shrinks up their aspiration double.

We're there to mitigate their dues,

But none is there for caring of sads,

Pray, pray and pray to Almighty

In order to build up a peaceful society.

The unseen you

A.S.M. Babor Ali

No poet has seen you.

If so,

The best imperishable poem

would be composed

By him.

No painter has seen you.

If so

Monalisa would have been defeated

to his easel.

No soldier has seen you.

If so,

He would conquer the world

looking at

your face.

Now

Samaresh Debnath

The existence lays

only in now-

In life, there's no past, no future!

We are we-

only in the 'now'!

The love

Dr. Md. Sirajul Karim

I saw her suddenly on the stair of a building.

As I saw her face to face

So it was a meeting which I wished ever lasting.

A few day back while was I returning from my office

Somebody was in my sight in the balcony of the nearby building.

My eyes discovered a young lady who was looking

At me with fashion unparalleled by turning

Her neck at me like a calm deer of a forest deep.

Thus some days passed slowly and gradually.

A letter of the lady was given to me

By a little girl on one evening

Not I was brave enough to read it by opening.

The three friends of mine

Like Nurul Huda, Kabirullah and Fazlur Rahman

Found my heart was seriously beating.

They announced loudly by calling an emergency meeting

That the letter of four square centimetre contained nothing

But the two words The Love were written

On the white paper with blood ink.

White book

Samaresh Debnath

A white book, in front of me,

mere white

with out any word

any letter

In this white book

Nobody writes anything

This book

always remains white

Only changes

our colour and dollar!