Everything we have, Everyone we know, Everything we are, we owe in part to you.
What follows here is a compilation of love letters to Bangladesh written by MUSE Sub-editors. Additionally, Abrar Farhan Zaman has been an integral part of the writing and editing process. Let’s hear their love stories-
Abrar Farhan Zaman
Dear Bangladesh,
My native land, you granted me recognition, love, and affection. You provided me shelter during cyclones and gave me the resilience needed to weather any storm. From you I learned to enjoy the simple moments of transient beauty like feeding pigeons in the morning when I grow despondent. Most importantly, you taught me to find light in the company I kept when I was enshrouded in the darkness of blackouts during my childhood.
My native land, you offered my grandfather sanctuary when the occupation army looked for him in village after village, and in city after city. You comforted him when they killed his dear ones, his comrades, and his brother Asad who incarnadined the gorgeous green of Manirampur with the warm blood of his heart. You kept him company as he strived to translate Emily Dickinson into the language he loved with all of his heart while he was alone in a secret room. You sought no reward, and bore no resentment.
My native land, fifty years ago you blossomed into life from the dreams and longings of millions of people. With the blood of their hearts they scribbled a single name: Bangladesh. It takes sacrifice to build a nation, and greed to destroy one. In the days to come, I will undoubtedly be stuck in traffic for hours on end, be denied access to research journals, find myself IP blocked from playing my favourite game simply because of where I am from, or struggle to get a Visa since I do not have a dual citizenship in a first world country. Be that as it may, you showed me the power of being resourceful, and I am sure, one way or the other, I will find a path forward by putting that skill to good use.
With love, Abrar Farhan Zaman
Anika Labiba Ahmed
Dear Bangladesh,
You have come a long way since you first hoisted your initial banner on that fateful Spring’s day. What followed days later resulted in a collective trauma that would echo across generations. Yet the Magpie Robin still sings tales of love, and deep in the bowels of your south-western forests, the Tiger still roars. Indeed, despite all the odds, you are here. You are resilient in the face of calamities– be it man-made or natural.
Then again, our relationship has been tumultuous, to say the least. I often hung my head in shame when you made poor decisions and at the same time, I know now that I never really left you. The other day I touched Kashful for the first time in my life. It was the same reeds that you clothe yourself with and I was surprised to find that they are not soft and cotton-like at all. You must forgive me for being a slow learner. I have only begun to start noticing things.
Being away from you from time to time makes me appreciate you more. We, the people that you nurture and house, are too many in number but we are hospitable and generous towards our neighbours. We learn this from you, in how fertile you make your soil for us and in how make sure that the fishermen do not come home empty-handed. My greatest childhood memories are of picking up mangoes off of the ground and dividing them into equal parts for neighbours, relatives, friends, and lastly, for ourselves. This strong sense of community is unmatched to those outside of your borders and this is a beautiful thing.
You are a beautiful being; your lush, natural greens, the brilliant vibrancy of artwork on your rickshaws, your many rivers of peaceful tranquility running like veins through your body, your 6 different moods, altogether make you uniquely you. Even though you are a beautiful thing, it is not easy to always love you just as it is not easy to always love another human. Despite that, can we promise that we will always try?
Sometimes you look weary and ill. The piles of mangos get shorter year after year and it makes me wonder if you are okay or is it just that I have been growing? Did we do this to you? Do we bite the hand that feeds? Your 6 seasons seem to have blended together into two and sometimes I catch glimpses of you becoming the very thing you detested from the start. I worry about this but I alternate between self-imposed paralysis and running away. Then I remember that I am a part of you and you a part of me. Self-love is as important as it is difficult.
Although I was not born out of your soil, I will one day disintegrate into it, and the thought of this is somehow comforting. My remains will one day feed the glorious trees that house the Magpie Robin but will she sing a song about me? I love you and I am you, so would you please acknowledge me?
Yours forever, Anika
Fairuz Maliha Surma
Hello Bangladesh,
It is me, your very own child, Fairuz. Although you have given me the opportunity to sleep peacefully at night, eat happily at noon and have tranquil evenings, I must note with sadness that I do not reflect or think about you often. Today, however, I want to share a few of my feelings which I have longed to confide in you for a long time. In all honesty, I don’t know where to begin. Should I start from the morning-bird’s chirp which awakens me with a sweet smile on my face, or shall I start from the sweat from the farmer’s hardworking arms that paints you with a greenish hue? Do you think I should start from the feelings which I have when I pass across your daughter’s fringe of Jamuna or shall I describe what it is like when there is a delightful deluge and I’m sitting under a tin shaded house tuning in to the mellifluous melody of rain drops as they playfully create percussive beats on the tin roof while I am having a cup of tea? I think I should describe the feelings which I have for those nights when I used to sit under the sky in autumn passing my time by counting all the stars present in the starlit sky. I said to you that it’s incredibly tricky and fearfully confusing to describe you. You are connected to everything and everywhere. There is no place or moment which is without you. Every time I hear the national anthem calling your name as Shonar Bangla, I get goosebumps. Goosebumps occur not only because of the struggles of our country’s heroes’ sacrifices, but also for the emotion I have for you. It lifts my spirits and makes my pride swell each time a Bangladeshi player scores a hundred, or people like Musa Ibrahim climb to the top of the highest place in the world just to plant your flag over there, or when people like Dr.Younus gets the Nobel prize for his outstanding work in alleviating poverty. Everytime the name Bangladesh is represented in an international place, I feel ebullient and overcome by a sense of vicarious achievement through our collective success .
I love you Bangladesh, but sometimes I feel like I have nothing to give you back in return for everything you have done for me or given me. I feel anxious when I see your son Dhaka’s name as one of the most polluted cities in the world. It fills me with shame and indignation when I learn that a teenage girl has to stop going to her school because of some animals pretending to be men. My eyes erupt with volcanic rage when I see a 6-year-old girl is being raped and killed brutally. Is that to say you are at fault, or are we the ones tarnishing your good name? Have we not distracted the singing of the morning birds, or disturbed the hardworking farmer or caused the drought which is making your daughter Jamuna dry? It has to be us, because you wouldn’t let your own family be destroyed in this manner. You won’t tolerate this, will you?
I’m sorry. I suppose we all are sorry that we have ravaged the beauty in you. We are sorry for not being the perfect child we should have been. We are sorry for not always upholding the values represented by our flag. I’m sorry. We are sorry.
On your 50th birthday, I just want to say one thing, Amar Shonar Bangla, Ami tomay valobashi na, ami tomake onek beshi valobashi.
Quazi Farhina Hossain
Dear Bangladesh,
People usually look at me in awe when I say Bangladesh is one of the countries I would keep at the top of my list of nations. Surprising, isn’t it? I mean, the very first thing that comes to most people’s mind regarding Bangladesh is ‘leave’. My question is, did they spare any extra time to look around and find the beauty in the depth of your flaws?
When I was a little girl of about 6 or 7 years, the only thing I liked about you was the morning sky. At that time, staying awake till 6 am was a challenge, and yet I would find myself staying up sometimes just to see your sunrise during the daybreak.
About the roads? While I am unsure about urban thoroughfares, my heart skips a beat everytime I visit rural areas. The crooked roads of your villages are something that makes it stand out from the crowd. Walking on these roads is risky, I know, but what is the point of living this life if we cannot feel the thrill of it?
Did they ever notice the enthralling allure of your river friends or are they still stuck behind the dark history of Buriganga? Did they see the beauty of the greenery of rural areas of your heart or their body and soul is still roaming around the chaotic atmosphere of the cities? Did they explore the monumental wonders of you yet or are they captivated by Netflix and chill at home?
Bangladesh, you are a country where beauty can be found in your flaws. Even now, when I wake up in the morning, I see the sky, admiring your beauty. I see the crooked which is still there, blessing my eyes, and I see the man-made beauties resting on your natural body which enhances your enigmatic aura.
In reality, not everything is about sunshine and butterflies, right? I see hope in you, but at the same time, I fear you. I fear the cities at night. I fear the pollution in the air. I fear public ignorance in this country. I fear the education board. I fear irresponsibility and immorality, and on top of it all, I fear humans. Even though you have your self-established beauty, there are some monsters that cloud that aura with their inhumane schemes. As a result, I have had second thoughts. Should I leave you and go away to some foreign land where I would feel safer? Maybe, but is it going to fix everything? Is it going to make me feel like I am home? No, I don’t think so.
You, my motherland, are not just some mere country where people reside. You are feelings, you are emotions, but most importantly, you are a piece of our heart and soul. Our freedom fighters fought for you for a reason, and we are feasting on the results. We have fear, so do you. In spite of that, here you are, still standing on your roots and protecting us.
I am proud of you.
Yours, Farhina
Md Sahedul Islam Hira
Dearest Bangladesh,
For the last few days I was so busy with work that I forgot you will be turning 50 this month. How fast time flies, right? It feels as though it was only yesterday when we liberated you from your tyrant of a master. Back then you had a lacerated body, a burnt face, a mild concussion and blood stained clothes. Our neighbours thought you would not survive long with such grave injuries, but look at you now! How fast you healed and made your glorious mark in the world!
It’s funny, isn’t it? You came to this world way before I did. Yet, I feel grown up and you are still young. Here I am growing with years and you are growing with grace and success. It’s been 24 years that I have been in love with you. In the course of my life, I never get tired of loving you. Everytime we meet in a different place I find a different you. In the late-night in Tanguar Haor, I found you in a black saree that had a long achal embroidered with tiny-tiny sparkling stars on it. On a rainy day in Bandarban, I found you adorned with floral braids on your head, leafy bangles on your hand and green saree all over your body. Under the morning sun in Cox’s Bazar, I found you in a foam white gown singing in an enticing voice. In Saint Martin, I found you lonely and alienated from others yet graceful enough to blow my mind. How can I get over a lady who surprises me every time with a different eye-soothing appearance? Let me ask you this straightforward question: In this world of fabricated beauty, how do you still remain so natural and yet soothingly beautiful? What’s your beauty secret?
It inspires me when I see you seizing successes. I am happy that you have become wealthier than your neighbors in terms of your children’s income. You also succeeded in teaching and empowering your daughters as their infants are not dying anymore and they are sailing skillfully in different oceans of work. Your sons are also succeeding in the market that exists in the rectangle screen. You have rebuilt your home with modern technology and connected it with outer space. It’s great how you open your arms for people who are in need even when your house is packed to the rafters. Honestly speaking, I am quite surprised and mesmerised at the same time witnessing your growing beauty and everlasting success.
However, these days I feel quite disappointed by you. I believe you will be strict again and guide your spoiled children to the right path. I love you more than the amount of stars in the sky.
Yours forever, Hira
Shahriyer Hossain Shetu
Dear Bangladesh,
I hope you are doing well. I am writing this letter to let you know what you mean to me, and I also have a few personal things to express as well.
First of all, Happy Golden Jubilee Bangladesh! 50 years – I can’t believe it has been that long… I am just half your age, and, thanks to you, I am living the best days of my life. I am actually planning a birthday gift for you. You might get it in the year 2030. In fact, not one, but seventeen gifts in total! Would you like to know the name of the gift? Haha! You see, I am taking the initiative to develop you sustainably. This gift of yours, I have been collaborating with the United Nations to ensure that it reaches you in time. You will be absolutely mesmerized upon seeing the gift that I am planning for you. As we speak, I have already started taking the measurements, and by the year 2030, you will receive the greatest gift of them all. Consider this gift as a token of apology for the hurt we have caused you. By we, I mean your own children. We have hurt you a lot, haven’t we, Bangladesh? While there are some who still cannot fathom your worth, there are others who love you from the bottom of their hearts – people such as myself.
Did you know I see my dreams in Bangla? How, you ask? I want to make you more beautiful than you are right now. I have a dream to make you the most beautiful country of them all. That is how my melody of making you great is composed. I have walked countless paths, and roads while our fingers intertwine, and not once did you let go of my hand! Bangladesh, you are exceedingly precious. I want to kiss the soil of yours with my lips, and show how much I am grateful to you.
You are full of richness and greatness, you are the best among all the countries of this world, you are born out of a dream and adored with so many memories. The sun, moon, stars, and planets are mesmerized by your enthralling beauty. No one has these beautiful soft rivers, no one has those wavy hills, the colorful soils – no other country can show me the dance of paddies due to the music of the wind, the beautiful sound of Moyna, the taste of rice and hilsha, the beautiful bond between families and friends, the sight of water-lilies, the roar of tigers in Sundarban, the beautiful constant rain in Sylhet, the winter air in North Bengal, the mixture of different religion, culture, and tradition, the beauty of Cox’s Bazaar, and so much more! YOU HAVE EVERYTHING! Which is why I love you so much.
In this letter, I have only highlighted the beauty of you by mentioning just the positive aspects of your multifaceted identity. I know you must be tired of all the complaints you face on a daily basis.. That is why I want you to know that you are stronger than you realize! You are beautiful and perfect in your own way. Please read my letter every time you feel upset, or if you feel defeated. I actually have a lot more to say to you, but I think it is better to end the letter here. Thank you very much, Bangladesh. May you prosper for a million more years to come!
Yours sincerely, Shahriyer
Umme Hani Anika
Dear Bangladesh,
I am but a small human living with 160 million other people surviving on the bounties given by the Almighty through you. From the time I started getting a sense of the world around me, which was you by the way, I used to love the amusement parks, the lush green trees bunched up in the parks and those scattered around the concrete roads. I cherished the winding Dhanmondi lake with its signature sidewalk embedded with red and grey bricks, where I often used to visit with my parents as a respite from studies or when I felt a sense of Weltschmerz. I still remember the first meeting, it was after I was discharged from one of my hospital stays, which happened to be located near the lake. My father decided to take me out for a walk, and I remember I insisted on going barefoot. Crossing the small distance of the gravel and asphalt road when I got to the sidewalk I could see red, blue, green, white and many other lights reflected off the waters after the nightfall and felt the breeze whooshing past me. I still like the atmosphere of the lake there, the way it stretches across many of your roads, the lush green trees, the red Krishnochura flowers and the mild breeze that blows at times and I still miss going for walks.
As my world expanded more, I began to admire the journeys to my village Chandpur, in those two-storeyed launches as I watched the water bubble below and pass through your Buriganga, Padma and Meghna rivers. The bed of water hyacinths always fascinates me every time I see them, how I wish I could actually sit on them. Travelling through the winding dirt roads guarded by lush green trees on either side was a sight for my sore eyes which were used to the concrete jungle of the city. Not to mention, the occasional gaps between the trees provided glimpses of your yellow mustard fields, the green rice fields and the algal bloom filled ponds. I also love the wind which makes the leaves whisper on autumn afternoons or the wind which combs through your rice paddy making them dance like a Mexican wave.
Apart from your natural beauty, while growing up I have met some of the kindest and most amicable people who would help others unconditionally, from the rickshaw puller mamas, to the house helpers, to the colleagues at my work to the teachers and friends in my school and university. I have deep respect for all the aforementioned people and I am thankful to you for providing me with the opportunity to encounter such beautiful souls who have enriched my life with their acts of altruism. You may have guessed I do not travel much, given that I only kept on rambling about the beauty of a few places. Worry not, I intend to fully explore all the places of your beauty I have read about in history books or blogs. The one thing I love about the natural elements you are made of regardless of time or place is the sky. I love how the reds, blues, whites, yellows, and greys play out in your firmament during different times of the day.
At the same time, I worry for you as well, because you are a treasure trove of resources and you only know how to give. I feel distressed when I hear that your blood is drying up, derelict, polluted, or clogged with materials forming pseudo-lands as some try to claim what is yours as theirs. I worry about you as I hear your resources both material and humans being taken from you forcefully, as I hear and see people, especially women, are not safe traveling alone or at night. I grow pensive as I see more people leaving you with hopes of a better future elsewhere around the world or when I see eager people losing out on their chance to help you live, breathe and sustain the population as a whole. I feel disconcerted when I see the age-old gender norms being imposed on both genders, especially in the households, where men are expected to shoulder most of the financial expenses of a family while the women are expected to shoulder that of the home and that includes child-rearing, even when the latter also work outside of the home. I know none of this is your fault, the fault is in us, humans. However, just like yin and yang, there are opposing forces keeping each other in balance. I have hope that not all is lost. There are still people who are working to develop you in various sectors. Many organizations and entrepreneurs- both young and experienced, have risen in the past few decades all to help you come out of the ailments that are plaguing you.
You are a work in progress. I stand on the shoulders of giants. I commend the countless cumulative contributions of citizens who carefully and ceaselessly paved the way for the rest of us to prove that our community is capable of great things. Where you are today is a testament to how far we have come ever since your birth fifty years ago. Even though I was not present at the moment of your genesis, please know that I will always strive to aid you until my last breath. I still have more to pen down but I will stop myself. However, let me say this- a few hundred or a thousand words are too short for me to express my love for you.
Sincerely, Umme Hani Anika