Under The Poverty Line

All of we hear and read a common thing that most of the people of developing countries live below the poverty line. When hear or read about poverty we imagine that a poor boy or girl is collecting some food from a dustbin or a lady or man is begging or sleeping on the footpath. Sometime we think some other scenario. But most of our imaginations are running around the people who live in the city and the town.

Millions of people live in rural areas and thousands of poor people live here. How much we know about rural area. When we talk about rural area_ we draw a picture in our head_ there are a few cottages and long farmland. Someone owns the farm and the rest who work on the farm are poor and live under the poverty line.

There is a small group of people in my homeland (so called rural area) who survive in an area which is not their permanent water land.

There is no cottage, no farmland, no owners and also no poor farmer. But there is poverty. Do they embarrass poverty or poverty embarrasses them?

To find out the question some of my friends visit the area more than three times. The main occupation of those people is fishing. So we called them Fisher man. Locally they are called ‘Jailla’.

Their houses are made of wood and plastic paper contains only one room, socially we call it a boat. The boat isn’t their property; it’s a courier which carries their property like a camel in the desert. The camel has a life but their boat is inert. The camels are walking in the hot sandy desert but their boats are floating on water.

The owner of the boat lives with his wife and children. The children can live with their parents until a certain age. Then they get their new house.

When their parent gets old they never take any step to grasp their parent property like us. How unsocial they are! Most of the women work with their husband but not go fishing. Their works mainly attach to post production. Never think that their husbands are involved in business. Business is not their headache. This kind of pain only takes a great person, they call them ‘Sordar’ and we call them leader of the community. The rest of them is collectors and we call them fisherman.

Their leader is not living on the boat. He has a small cottage on the bank of the river and he is not poor and is not living under the poverty line. He is living under a Banyan tree!!

Some of the women break the tradition and work outside their boat. There is no one to hinder them. Because they brought some paper money for their family at the time when all fishes visit their relatives home in another river. Money makes a new tradition for them that in some cases women are eligible to work outside.

How cruel the women are! They have infant children but they don’t care. They leave them into the boat. Since they are not civil, the men take care of the infants in the absence of their mother.

They don’t pray to God. God must take revenge for their disobeying behavior. But the problem is that with a hundred of year they are not concerned about God. Now it’s complicated that from which religion they should get the curse. May be they get curse from all Gods of all religion. For this enormous pressure they are unable to cross the poverty line.

In every boat, there is an academician or maybe more. His teaching method is practical not memorizing. You need not to light up in the night to earn this learning. How energy saver they are! He teaches the student how to swim not night but in the daylight. They are swimming in the river without swimming suit.  How unsocial they are!

The main work of the children to collect fish in the very morning when there is low tide in the river. That’s all their work. The rest of the time, they are playing and fighting. They don’t know what is A or B. They aren’t hungry. So why do they need to know about A or B?

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Holding The Bouquet

The age of my first loving girl was nine when I was sixteen. My mother was a teacher of her school and she came into our home to learn Math and English from my mother. There is a concrete wall with a window and a door between my room and the teaching room. I set up my reading table beside the window and she used to sit down a specific chair which is very comfortable for me to see her face to face. I just looked at her and she just gave me a little bit of a smile. After watching her smile, whatever I looked at, it seemed to smile at me even a tree. It was impossible for me to pass a single day without seeing her.

It was 19 February, 2 days before from 21^st February which is our one of the biggest national festival called International Mother Language day. On that day Hundreds of Bengali give honor and remember the national heroes who dedicated their lives for their mother tongue Bangla in 1952. By giving flower on the Martyr Monument (Shahid Minar) the people show their respect and honor to them.

However, in 19 February she came to and insisted to me to make a bouquet for her. I had never any experience to make any bouquet. I told her_ bouquet!! It’s very simple and I make hundreds of bouquet in my life. How many do you need?  She said_ just one!

On that night I along with my friends, made a great adventure. I lived in a village which was a totally remote area from the city area. There was no flower shop. People collect their flower from their own flower garden. It was my bad luck that I had no flower garden. But at any cost I had to manage flowers to make a bouquet. There was only one way and that was to steal flowers from others garden and we finished our great tasks in a professional way although it was our first time. But love makes me a professional.

After stealing flowers, now it was time to make the bouquet. I collected some bamboo stick and try to make a bouquet. After four hour hard working, I was sure that I never make a bouquet. Although I knew that ‘it is simple to make a bouquet’. I passed whole night but the result was zero. In the every morning I was working on my favorite road from where most of the decision of my life came from. Suddenly I got an idea_ no bamboo, no stick, I can make it with an art paper. Then went home and took a shower and had my breakfast. Already my love came to my house to acquire knowledge from my mother. But today I have some very important knowledge to share with her. So, I went to her and said_ hey! Last night I made the bouquet and I broke it and through it away. To hear my all sentence, she gave me some mixed expression. First few second her face was exciting and smiling and the last few second, it was totally annoying and astonishing. She wanted to say why. But the speed of my sentence was faster than her. I said to her_ I have a new idea and it is totally unique. I make a new type of bouquet that will be the only one piece bouquet in our festival. I will make it with art paper. Then I described the production process_ First I make a box with this art paper, then we design the box and at the end, we keep our flower in that box. But no one can identify that it is a paper box because of our design. To make a better design I need you. It was my first time to tell her that I need you. She agreed to help me without saying any negative sentence just sound_ let’s do it.

The whole day we worked together to make a better bouquet. I don’t know still today that that was a bouquet or not at all. But that was our first and last worked what we finished together. The society and custom of our locality were restricted by religious faith. To stay or to walk with a boy in public places was prohibited for girls. My family along with her family was very fundamentalist. But there was a good connection between two families. When she phoned her mother and said that she wanted to stay the whole day in our house and returned before sunset, her mother agreed because it was our house. If it wasn't our house, she will never be allowed.

After working all day she returned to her home and told me to finish the rest of the work. I said_ but How can you give it on the monument tomorrow if it is in my house? She just smiled and said_ next day, I will come to your house early in the morning. To hear that I was just looking at her and thought that how does this little girl know that I want this? She was just 9 years old and I’m still thinking today. How did she understand me?

The Martyr Monument was in our school campus which was not far from our home just ten minutes walking road. February 19, some people were cleaning the Martyr Monument and colored with Red and White by the order of the local authority. It was cleaned three times in a year. February 19 is one of them. The rest of the time, it looked dirty and different types of Lichens grew here and there. Some dogs lead their life happily here. Martyr Monument was the birth place of a dog which we called a tiger. There were three child dogs. One died in bad weather and one was taken by a boy. But the tiger survived and he lived there happily. But three times in a year he lost his birth place and roaming here and there. The tiger was very clever that he knew that after a few days, we returned to him of his birth and living place. So, the dog didn't walk away ever until he was sentenced by God to dishonor the Martyr Monument. We mourn for his death and the dog may be not. He was able to keep his lineages and hoped that they fought for their property.

On 21^st February, she came to my home in the very morning and I gave the bouquet to her. She looked at me, smile and say_ you are a very good boy. I wanted to say something but nothing came out. I was just staring at her and she walked away. I along with some of my friends walked towards the Martyr Monument with barefooted. When we reached near our school campus, we heard a loud sound and in a second all people was running towards me. I was also running and heard a male voice_ ‘Boob Blast’ ‘Boom Blast’. When I reached at home, I thanked god that He saved me. Suddenly I thought that she was in that place! Without thinking any word, I was just running towards the Martyr Monument. The place was already restricted by the police. I saw her motionless body in the corner of the Martyr Monument missing one hand and two legs. She was just holding the bouquet with her only one hand.

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