|Home | Issues | The Daily Star Home | Volume 7, Issue 37, Tuesday, September 18, 2012 ||
THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY
By Tanziral Dilshad Ditan
"Wedding Decor by Nushrat" presents Wedding Fair 2012
Let's celebrate the wedding season with the expert and enjoy a magical night. The Fair includes exhibition, order taking, bookings, etc. You will find the wide collection of bridal ornaments for mehendi night where imported Raaki and Kalirays will be available, as will be thematic wedding dalas, stage decorations, floral décor, wedding dresses, wedding photography, handmade cards, etc.
If your special day is in the coming months, you should definitely check this out.
Oath presents Reign of Metal [Vol.-2]
Its 2012 and the underground music scene in our country has taken off like never before. To give you the best experience Oath is organising this concert with the best bands of the underground movement. So get ready for the loudest concert of the season. Their previous concert featured the best bands on the scene, and this time it will be bigger and better. Tickets are at Tk.150 and Tk.50 for students (need to show ID). For details on the line-up and other information visit
Crepe-au-Lait soft launch
Crepe-au-Lait is a cosy French-inspired crepe cafe located in the heart of Dhaka city's downtown -- Gulshan. Crepe-au-Lait offers a simple menu featuring sweet, savoury and vegetarian crepes along with other mouth-watering side dishes. Every weekend they offer an excellent combination of their English breakfast with coffee or freshly squeezed juice. The fillings for their crepes are delicious enough to stand alone but when wrapped in wonderful crepes, the flavours blend together to melt in your mouth. They promise to stay true to their values and eclectic style and maintain quality and sincerity with every guest.
They are proud to announce that they are the first ones in Bangladesh to introduce frozen yoghurts. They will be open to the public from 14 September 2012 from 5pm onwards. So go for the food, stay for the atmosphere and have a great weekend.
UNDER A DIFFERENT SKY
An hour from a life of a Bottom Feeder
By Iffat Nawaz
Mou is not well today. The air-conditioned office has created a mini Alaska around her yet she can feel the beads of sweat gather under her chest, lining around her upper stomach, in the folds, the many folds she started acquiring from her mid-20s, and now in her 40s, the folds are a permanent accessory to her flesh and bones.
The phone rings and Mou answers with a bitter voice. It's Tina, the new girl who joined a year back, annoying, smiling excessively while climbing the corporate ladder. No matter how Mou tries to break a bit of Tina's confidence with her skilled bureaucracy and proven-to-be-effective facial expressions, this girl doesn't seem to surrender. She knows her co-workers are scared of her. Not for her technical skills, who needs those if you can play with words and put your heavy weight literally and metaphorically in the right places.
Tina's chirpy voice puts Mou's mood in a worse state. As it is, things at home are also slipping from under her thumb. Her sister-in-law Sonia's visit has everything to do with it of course. Fresh grad from an Ivy League, youngest in the family and the apple of her brother's eyes. Mou never liked this sister of her husband, since the day she first heard about her. And her husband, being completely oblivious to the minor but sharp changes of Mou's mood, went on bragging about his dear little sister. Even with Mou's twisted comments and “Hmms” and “Hmphs” he didn't stop. What a naive idiot he is.
But then again, if her husband did not have this naive quality about him, he would not have married her in the first place. It was not easy for Mou to land a guy, not because of the little weight she had put on but mostly because her shadow had traveled ahead of her and the men did not want to be a part of her bossy mind games. But her husband thankfully fell for it, and the top Bangladeshi beauty parlour even made Mou look semi sweet and kind with their bridal makeovers on her wedding day. She has a photo of that framed on her work desk.
Staring at her computer screen she starts to drift into thoughts of putting these chirpy girls in order. Mou cannot handle one more day with that carefree attitude of Sonia's, using her wanna-be-cute voice with the house helps, ordering them to cut her green guavas and mix up jhal muri. Sonia's perfectly coordinated outfits and that bideshi smell, and long addas on the dinner table about her travel stories and adventures. Disgusting! Like last night, when Sonia went on and on about some archeology expedition in South America and Mou's husband sat with his mouth open, amazed listening to the story. Even after telling him four times to go wash his hand, he barely nudged. Unacceptable!
And this Tina, she hates how she ignores all her requests and once picked on Mou when she said in the usual-Mou-manner “What I want is for you to finish this report and send it to me for a quick look,” and Tina responded: “Mou Apa, you should never use phrases like 'I want' when requesting something, especially in work settings, something I learnt in corporate communication course in college. Anyway I will copy you when I send the report to the boss.”
How dare she! Just because she said this with a smile it makes it okay? The beads of sweat now gather around Mou's forehead, she is breathing heavily, this new back pain also sets in. Mou tries to dial her husband, phone goes into call waiting. Of course he is chatting with Sonia, probably checking to see if that spoilt brat had her lunch.
Mou gets up and walks away, she needs to go flirt with the younger male administrative assistant, the one that calls her “sweetie.” The back of her kameez is stuck to her body and wet with sweat, her thinning hair waves frizzy in the air, her accomplishments with insults and small successes through bullying follow with her draped orna. She feels as though she hears people talking about her, whispering as she passes through the hallway. Mou walks straight, scheming, breathing, sweating, she can't let them win.
Of bittersweet bonds
They fight over the silliest of matters, laugh when the other one is hurt, yet weep while one is in distress. The relationship between siblings goes deeper than it actually seems. It's a bond woven with love, strengthened over time. But the sweetest moments of this special relationship are from the days of childhood, a time when the 'best buddy' was viewed as the 'arch rival'.
We asked a number of people to relive their childhood stories. We asked them for stories of sibling rivalry but what we got back was much more enriching and heartwarming than we expected. The stories within are about all the relations which make the bond of siblings beautiful.
-- Raisaa Tashnova
Leave my brother to me
I would retaliate by screaming the same back at him, jumping around trying to hit him. This always meant that mum thought I started the fight, no matter how much I tried to explain!
If once in a blue moon I could actually convince mum that it was his fault, she proceeded to reprimand or punish him. But instead of supporting mother, I would take his side. No one picks on my brother but me.
Bhaiya and the cycle
Of course I would not allow him to take mine for the race without something in return and in the end I agreed upon the condition that he takes me along for the race.
That is how that evening all our neighbours saw my twelve-year-old elder brother paddling like crazy to win a race with his eight-year-old sister holding him tight from the back seat. Needless to say he did not win that race.
-- Noorie Muntaha
Judge eldest sister
I, of course, got all her make-up kits and clothes without any contest but her room which was one of the biggest in the house was another issue entirely.
One day my sister called a meeting of the siblings and acting as the judge she asked me and my brother to tell her why we each think we should get her room. My brother played his 'I am older' card!
I put up a better argument by pointing out to her how she would be able to share the room with me when she returned. And obviously she wouldn't want her room to become a boy's room!
After she left (which was one of the saddest days of my life) I jubilantly moved my possessions into her room, prancing and dancing around my sulking brother.
-- Rizwana Sabreen
White car, silver car
The specifications of the car were all the same apart from their colour. One was white while the other was shiny silver. Now I knew my little brother would always want the one I want for myself so I started to praise the white car although I loved the silver one.
He seemed to be smarter than I thought and chose the silver. Sulking and sad, I took my white car out for a ride and he soon joined in with his silver (and better) one. I soon realised that I could control his car with my remote and an evil plan started to brew in my mind.
I waited till he sent the car a bit far away from him and when he was bringing it back to himself I suddenly made it take a right and jump head on into a drain. He was stunned for a while and when he looked at me I was busily controlling my own car.
Confused but sad he went back inside after retrieving the now not so shiny silver car from the drain. He was upset about his new car for two straight days and this was just too much for me to bear so in the end I ended up with no car, white or silver , since I gave mine to him in an attempt to cheer him up.
-- Akib Hassan
The younger ones always get away!
When it was my turn to feign sleeping, my brother decided to bring a dramatic twist to the storyline. On a nearby table was a broken flower-vase awaiting to be glued by my mom. He took a piece from there and pretended to stab me. Unfortunately, he turned out to be quite the method actor when he literally stabbed my knee.
As it turned out, the cut was deep enough to require stitches. I do not exactly remember the severity of the scolding he got, but I remember I was quite enraged because, just like every other situation, most people justified his action with "Aww he is young, he does not understand.”
-- Parisa Karim
Light under the door
I used to get out of my room and check for the light under her door to see if she was up. The last night before she was to leave the country, I remember getting up and going out of the room to check for her light and at that very moment she clicked it off. I knew I could still go and talk to her but I just stood there, staring at the dark crack under her door and crying my eyes out for a very long time. Then I silently went back into my room and resumed studying.
-- Raisaa Tashnova
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