Tangents
Rainy Day <I>Snippets </I>
Rainy Day in old Dhaka. Photo: Ihtisham Kabir
As I step closer to the pedestrian overbridge on my way to Sadarghat, I see the morning sky darkening. Within minutes it is pouring. Running, I take shelter on the stairs of a store which has yet to open. I wait - with many others - for the rain to stop. As I watch the street, memories of other rainy days flood my mind. The saddest-looking vendor stall I ever saw was in the rain in Khilkhet. Empty and desolate, it announced the services of a watch repairman to an indifferent world. But the stall next door was buzzing with customers braving the rain. What was he offering? Umbrella repairs, of course. Another day, as the rain just started, I took shelter in the porch of a cinema hall. The papaya vendor, his trolley in the porch, was looking pleased. “I love this weather,” he announced. “Why”, I asked. He mumbled unintelligibly, leaving me puzzled. The explanation came soon. The porch filled with hundreds of rain-soaked people. Presently they grew tired of watching the rain and looked for diversions. The papayas tempted many and soon the vendor had sold everything. Rickshawallahs get no break in the rain because they live hand to mouth and must earn every day. But on rainy days they can exact a premium from passengers. Those with a good panikapor-waterproof wrap to protect the passenger - can charge the highest fares. I once observed a savvy rickshaw passenger negotiating in Siddiq Bazar. When quoted the fare, she immediately asked to see the panikapor. “Eeesh! Your panikapor has holes! No way will I pay twenty Taka to Gulistan!” Rain has always been a good excuse for the tardy. I recall overhearing a man issue this monologue when his mobile phone rang: “Sir! Assalamu-alaikum Sir! I am caught in the rain in Sutrapur for half an hour and will be late for work, Sir! Yes, heavy rain Sir! Sorry Sir, all the busses are full. Not a single rickshaw, Sir!” His boss, in far off Banani, does not know that the rain in Sutrapur started only five minutes ago, or that several empty rickshaws are waiting on the street. Mr. Tardy had just bought himself another hour before starting work! I have never seen a child not enjoy the rain. But parents become anxious for their infants. They frantically protect their child, lest it catch a cold. Often, mothers bundle their child into their sari for protection. I once spied one such child peeking out of mom's blue sari. The twinkle in her eyes told me she was thoroughly enjoying the rainy ride. “Sir, could you please move to the side?” My daydream of rainy days is interrupted by the store owner who wants to reopen his store. The rain has stopped and people have left the shelter. And so, shaking myself out of dreaming, I too resume towards Sadarghat. Ahhh! The air smells fresh and clean indeed!
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.
Comments