Hold Your Temper!

Srabonti Narmeen Ali

It was the first day of Ramadan and the city was in mayhem. All around people were in a hurry to finish their work and run their errands so that they could get back home in time for iftar. Drivers crashed unabashedly into other cars and blamed each other for it. Their shouting and fighting reached cacophonic heights. At home the domestic help were working in a frenzy. They screamed at each other at the slightest provocation.

My own nerves were running short, waiting for the beautiful sound of the muezzin announcing the arrival of Maghrib, indicating the time to break the long, hot day of fasting. I found myself snapping at my driver for driving too slowly, wanting to tell people to go away and leave me alone when they asked me normal, everyday questions, getting irritated at the smallest things. I actually wanted to get out of my car at one point in the day and beat up a driver who was threatening to hit my car if we didn't get out of his way. To be fair to myself, the man was being completely ridiculous -- we were stuck in one of Karwan Bazaar's famous directionless traffic jams, the kind in which you cannot move forward or backwards because everyone is going whichever way they feel. But I have to say that I was surprised at myself. Although I controlled my urges to get out and kick the wheel of the man's car (which I'm sure would have had dire consequences), I found myself not stopping at wishfully thinking I could, but actually considering it meaning, I envisioned walking to his side of the car, tapping on his window and then taking my foot and ramming it into the front wheel. Pretty silly, right? And pointless.

When I came home from my long and tiring day of driving around in a car and sitting in my air-conditioned office, I saw that iftar had not been placed on my dining table and I yelled at the household help for being lazy. It never crossed my mind that they might have not been having the easiest day -- standing over a hot stove all day preparing the iftar meal without eating or drinking. Well it did, but only after I had my first sip of water of the day.

I legitimised it all by telling myself that losing my temper and being irritable was alright -- after all, it was only because I was starving and thirsty. It's true. It's one thing if you forget to eat or miss lunch. However, it's quite another story if you don't have a choice. While thinking this last bit of comfort to myself, I stopped. Here I was, with the luxury of fasting, knowing that at the end of the day I would have a nice hot meal with lots of goodies, and I was actually feeling sorry for myself while the small girl selling flowers in front of Sonargaon, every day, without fail, greeted me with a smile, all the while not knowing when her next meal was?

It is so easy to forget why we fast -- especially when you have such a relatively easy life compared to the majority of the population of Bangladesh. What is the point of fasting if I'm going to be in a bad mood and shout at everyone? What is the point of sacrificing something when you are not going to do it full-heartedly, and without realising that although this is a temporary phase for me, it may be the trend of a lifetime for the person standing next to me on the street? Well, I can't promise that the next time an idiot threatens to hit my car or a person irritates me I won't lose my temper, but I guess I can only do the best I can, and keep this all in mind.

It was the first day of Ramadan and the city was in mayhem. All around people were in a hurry to finish their work and run their errands so that they could get back home in time for iftar. Drivers crashed unabashedly into other cars and blamed each other for it. Their shouting and fighting reached cacophonic heights. At home the domestic help were working in a frenzy. They screamed at each other at the slightest provocation.

My own nerves were running short, waiting for the beautiful sound of the muezzin announcing the arrival of Maghrib, indicating the time to break the long, hot day of fasting. I found myself snapping at my driver for driving too slowly, wanting to tell people to go away and leave me alone when they asked me normal, everyday questions, getting irritated at the smallest things. I actually wanted to get out of my car at one point in the day and beat up a driver who was threatening to hit my car if we didn't get out of his way. To be fair to myself, the man was being completely ridiculous -- we were stuck in one of Karwan Bazaar's famous directionless traffic jams, the kind in which you cannot move forward or backwards because everyone is going whichever way they feel. But I have to say that I was surprised at myself. Although I controlled my urges to get out and kick the wheel of the man's car (which I'm sure would have had dire consequences), I found myself not stopping at wishfully thinking I could, but actually considering it meaning, I envisioned walking to his side of the car, tapping on his window and then taking my foot and ramming it into the front wheel. Pretty silly, right? And pointless.

When I came home from my long and tiring day of driving around in a car and sitting in my air-conditioned office, I saw that iftar had not been placed on my dining table and I yelled at the household help for being lazy. It never crossed my mind that they might have not been having the easiest day -- standing over a hot stove all day preparing the iftar meal without eating or drinking. Well it did, but only after I had my first sip of water of the day.

I legitimised it all by telling myself that losing my temper and being irritable was alright -- after all, it was only because I was starving and thirsty. It's true. It's one thing if you forget to eat or miss lunch. However, it's quite another story if you don't have a choice. While thinking this last bit of comfort to myself, I stopped. Here I was, with the luxury of fasting, knowing that at the end of the day I would have a nice hot meal with lots of goodies, and I was actually feeling sorry for myself while the small girl selling flowers in front of Sonargaon, every day, without fail, greeted me with a smile, all the while not knowing when her next meal was?

It is so easy to forget why we fast -- especially when you have such a relatively easy life compared to the majority of the population of Bangladesh. What is the point of fasting if I'm going to be in a bad mood and shout at everyone? What is the point of sacrificing something when you are not going to do it full-heartedly, and without realising that although this is a temporary phase for me, it may be the trend of a lifetime for the person standing next to me on the street? Well, I can't promise that the next time an idiot threatens to hit my car or a person irritates me I won't lose my temper, but I guess I can only do the best I can, and keep this all in mind.