The deserted streets took Dhaka back to an era when traffic jams were an exception, not the rule. The rain-swept city was a trip through nostalgia.... Maybe the buildings were a bit taller and the sky had shrunk somewhat, but this was the Dhaka we knew and loved. It was a Dhaka where we could walk, drive, breathe, laugh and cry at our own pace.
This was Dhaka during Eid. For once, we had respite from our pressure-cooker lives of pressing schedules, frantic rushes and pent up tensions. Ah, Paris in the springtime and Dhaka during Eid!
The anticipation built up in the days before Eid. Amidst the crowds thronging the city's shopping centres, the unending tailbacks of traffic and the "seasonal" beggars streaming in from all over the country, there was that sense of waiting, waiting for the grand exodus. This was the exodus that emptied the cosmopolis of its surplus denizens, who scrambled onto buses, trains, ferries and almost anything that moved, to be back in their hometowns and villages with their near and dear ones during Eid. Left behind were the dregs of the populace in the desolate city. Dregs? Desolate? Not quite... One could almost hear the tarred streets and the well-trodden pavements breathe a sign of relief. And the downpour continued.... The sweets days of Eid!
Then there was the upper crust of society (and a big chunk of the middle crust too!) who took off on package tours to Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and fairer climes to get away from the bustling Dhaka's burgeoning locales.
The silence on the streets was tangible. Gone were the incessant honking of horns, the revving engines of vehicles big and small, shouts and cries of vendors and vagrants. So what was going in the mind of those left behind in the capital city?
"My family and I climbed into the car and just drove from one end of the city to the other, just for the sheer feel of freedom!" says Ariqa Khan, a businesswoman. "My children were thrilled. They've never seen Dhaka like this."
Indeed, the air seemed thinner, easier to breathe, without the steady stream of exhaust from cars polluting the environment.
"And the rain, don't forget the rain!" adds in Shahab, a teenager who spent Eid roaming the city with his friends and cousins. "We had planned to hang out at Hatirjheel and when it started raining hard, we refused to change our plans. We enjoyed the rain, the peace and the fun."
Then there are those who enjoy the temporary tranquility of the city, but lament the loss of the Eid spirit. Says Moshrefa Khatun, "I come from a big family of nine brothers and sisters. I have three children of my own and so many nieces and nephews. On Eid day, my house used to be like a marketplace! Everyone talking at the same time, laughing, eating, joking throughout the day. Now many of my siblings live abroad, some take off on holidays for Eid and so the festival is far less festive than before. I miss that."
Moshrefa is not the only one. With more and more students going abroad for studies, parents feel the empty-nest syndrome all the more poignantly during the Eid holidays. "It's rather pathetic that I bought new clothes for my son, even though he is in Canada and I couldn't even send him the clothes. But old habits die hard," laughs Sara Jamil, who works for an NGO. There's a tinge of sadness in her self-deprecation.
Then there's the inconveniences of the exodus. Drivers, domestic help and others whom we take so much for granted, take leave to go home to their families. "I never appreciate my hired help more than when they are gone for the Eid holidays. I enjoy driving the car myself in the empty streets," says housewife Lima, "I never dare to on ordinary days of traffic jams. And I enjoy cooking too. But we've come to rely so much on our domestic staff, that we miss the little things like a cup of tea, making the beds and things like that. Maybe it's a good thing. We've become overly dependent on them."
Another noticeable factor of Eid is the shuttered shops. Before Eid it was all hustle and bustle.... Shops were open till the wee hours of the morning. Fairy lights adorned not just the shops but entire streets, winking and beckoning customers, who were drawn like moths to a flame. It will be a long time before the large city centres open after Eid. Shopaholics, take a break, don't go into withdrawal. There is always the corner grocer shop if you get too desperate!
Oh Dhaka! In a few days time, the crowds will start trickling in. The streets will once again fill with the sirens, smog, shouts and desperation. The city will be packed like a tin or sardines. And we will wait... now, when is Qurbaani Eid?
