IN A BANGlA cABBIE’s pAssENGEr sEAT
My wheatish complexion (a shade of skin colour created especially for matrimonial ads by groom-seeking Indians to distinguish between fair and not-so-fair prospective brides) is enough to suggest that I may understand Hindi and that’s how each time I hail a cab in Dubai I’m never alone or bored. “India ya Pakistan, ya Bangladesh se hain?” (India, Pakistan, or Bangladesh, where do you come from?), I am asked. Last week was no different, when a Bangla cabbie found an audience in me. “I am from Bangladesh,” he is quick to state lest I confuse him for a Bengali from India.
“Bangla is very green — just like India.” Before I can give him my petty views on the goodness of date palm trees or the UAE green efforts, he adds, “If you love greenery and want to see tea gardens, you should visit Sylhet.” Sumon hails from Sylhet. Yes, we’re on first name basis, already. I learn that Sylhet is a tourist place and is close to the Indian border (Northeastern Bangladesh), “Hum India ke
saath hai (We’re close to India)”. He goes on to narrate tales of a European passenger whose great grandfather lived in Sylhet. “We grew up at the same place! In fact, there are a lot of Europeans in Bangladesh.”
As for Dubai, he has the numbers sorted, “Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalese and Filipinos in this order make up for the populace.” Eight years and counting, it’s the everchanging rules and regulations of Dubai that bother him, “It’s getting tougher by the day.” However, the availability of Bangladeshi fish and DVDs of Bangla films keep him going. He mentions that while he’d love to eat authentic Bangla food at Food Village, Al Nahda, he finds the place to be very expensive.
While talking to a Bangla it’s a given that the topic of music will emerge, especially its falling standard. “I don’t like today’s music. People who appreciate good music still listen to Manna Dey.” The worst song he’s ever heard: Munni Badnam
Hui. And just to prove his point he switches the Hindi radio station for a Bangla CD. “You can buy these at Al Karama.”
Now an interesting rule of cabbie-conversations is that you are expected to respond to personal questions with ease; besides taking in whatever is shared with you. So, by now I know that this cabbie has been married for four years and would be visiting his wife early next year. “I get two months off, annually.” Does he like the expat life? “I’m around until I run out of energy to work.”
I’ve reached my destination but before I step out I decide to take my time to pronounce his name, correctly (Bangladeshis take it very seriously!). I rely on common knowledge that in Bengali S becomes SH, “It was nice to meet you S(HOO) M(O)N (N), Aapnar din bhalo hok! (Have a nice day).” He smiles back. I must have got it right.