Friday, January 27, 2012

An evening with Ex-cadets


It was a nice evening with a touch of cold, a Saturday, possibly the best day of the week for an office worker. It had snowed the day before; the first good snow in GTA this winter, a thin sheet of white crystals covered the ground. The temperature had risen earlier the day and the rain in the morning partially melted the snow. This was a double jeopardy. We loved snow, especially the kids, but then who could pass on the warmer weather?
The party, more accurately a get-together, was scheduled at 6 PM. Had it been between the years 1978 and 1984, during my pathetic stint as a cadet in one of those prestigious and somewhat privileged institutions in Bangladesh, I would have gotten ready by 4 PM, had the family marched into the family van by 4:30 PM and made the hour long trip to be at the venue at 5:30 PM with 30 minutes to settle down. This was however 2012, January the 21st, 28 years had passed by since I graduated from Cadet College and all my training about discipline and punctuality had long evaporated. It was now out of my grasp to figure out how a 6 PM party can start before 8 PM? There’s something called rationality, right?
The gods of traffic looked upon me mercifully and the roads seemed devoid of any usual troubles – rather amazingly, forcing me to cover the distance in little over half an hour. The kids, two of mine and one of my friend, 11, 10 and 6 respectively, had been upset about the weird party where they learned all the grouchy old people from schools called cadet colleges located in Bangladesh were supposed to show up.
  The venue seemed to impress the trio, one good thing. As a parent it is a continuous struggle for me to ensure that they are happy and content and in return provide me the peace of mind I so cherish. I had never been to this place before. The Ellas Banquet Hall located on 35 Danforth Road looked quite elegant, neatly organized, bright and specious and most of all relieving with ample parking spot.
 Greeted cordially by a few of the organizers, inevitably other fellow ex-cadets, most of who I had never met but knew by name from my earlier correspondence through the group email that the young and enthusiastic group of organizers had set up. A small contribution made and a name tag with details of my cadet persona imprinted I followed the family into the hall room – a high ceiling and specious place with rows of round tables running across the length, each arranged to host about a dozen guests. Following the email chains earlier I had learned that the response to the call for the get-together had been overwhelming and the organizers expected the number of guests to be no less than hundred and fifty – a considerable number remembering the fact that this was the first ever gathering of ex-cadets from all cadet colleges in this city, perhaps in the country, some may even go as far as to say in the world outside of Bangladesh. While ex-cadets from the same cadet colleges met sometimes, there hasn’t been any known occasion where attempts were taken to arrange a grand reunion with all cadet collages, away from home. It was a night to cherish, a night to remember – just for the mere reason for making it happen - setting apart all the great things that followed in the next several hours as the evening danced into the night.
We picked a table in the rear, one still not taken, took off our coats and jackets and settled into the sturdy chairs as the kids quickly joined dozens of other kids in the specious lobby, some even starting a game of hide and seek.  FInding them happy I relaxed into a chair thanking the volunteers who had worked diligently to bring all of us together there, under the roof of that beautifully bright place with a podium and professionally dressed stuff offering appetizers to the guests. The list with all of their names can be found at the end of this article.
As the evening progressed the size of the conglomeration grew at a rate surpassing expectation. A final count gave away amazing numbers – in total 82 ex-cadets and their families had convened, a few from as far as Montreal, some approaching their golden years while many others are still pursuing their higher studies in universities located in Windsor, Kitchener, London areas. The grand total turned out to be 212 – two thirds of that was adults with the rest kids. Several ex-cadets who had immigrated to Canada in recent years and are yet to bring their spouses showed up alone. 
Can’t be sure when the scheduled programs actually began but the place looked so bustling with well dressed, cheerful and energetic crowd that there seemed to be very little need of anything else to happen.   While the ex-cadets chatted, laughed and seek out other cadets who they might have not seen for a while, their spouses were equally eager to gather with friends and acquaintances and the kids merrily ran back and forth the long corridors and the hall room when they weren’t busy playing Gameboys or complaining about boredom.  The warmth of the crowd was touching, the gentle demeanors pleasing and the healthy murmur that resonated was heartwarming. At some point the scheduled programs did start under the efficient guidance of the three delightful conductors – Farid(JCC,74), Rimon (SCC,88) and Iftikhar (FCC,89) followed by an excited Hassan Mahmood (FCC 84) , my good old friend of 27 years from Dhaka University, paving the path to others by introducing ex-cadets of FCC who were present in the audience. (For the full list please refer to the end of this document).
A program itinerary had been prepared and brochures were printed. Though rarely the audience calmed down enough to give full attention to anybody whatsoever, amid this pleasant chaos things did move on – from singing the national anthem of both Bangladesh and Canada, introduction of ex-cadets and sponsors to video presentation of all Cadet Colleges reminiscing old and present days skillfully put together by Rimon and his wife, an elaborate look at the web site under development (a list of the ex-cadets volunteering that effort  is included at the end of this essay), a cultural program that accommodated several of the kids belonging to the ex-cadets who danced, sung, recited, played instruments to much amusement of the full house (a list of the participants are included at the end of this writing) followed by kids favorite cake cutting lead by Brigadier (Retd.) Kalam Shahed, an ex-cadet from the first batch of JCC , group pictures of all ex-cadets followed by their spouses and children.
 The Indian themed dinner stood in between healthy and delicious with plenty to go around.
Later reputed singer Chondan took over the stage and entertained the cheerful audience through the night to early morning when the enchanted guests had to finally call it a night and bid a gleeful bye to this amazing event.        
There may be mixed feelings about cadet colleges in Bangladesh, considering the high cost that is inevitably attached to them, an obvious outcome in the process to filter out the best young minds and to train and educate them in the best possible way, in an elite private school type settings, to create an especial group of people who would lead the nation as members of not only defense forces but also as civilians. Their numbers are miniscule in comparison to the total number of students coming out of higher secondary education system but their attitude and enthusiasm toward life is undoubtedly discernable. While there is no accurate data or elaborate study to determine the actual benefit of the cadet colleges, looking at that gathering of bright, educated, conscious men and women accompanied by their equally bright spouses and tech savvy ultra smart kids, one might dare to suggest that the sacrifices of the dotting mother has been rewarded. Regardless of age and success measured in materialistic scale, the love, dedication and promise that were so prominent in that crowd that it took no difficulties to figure out that the avalanche of goodwill and conscience would inevitably ripple across the continents to the little piece of land with wiggly borders, the land we call Bangladesh.  Just the thought of all the impossible-s that will one day be accomplished by the men, women and the kids I stood among was simply overwhelming.
This was an event that will be remembered for many months to come and hopefully will return in the coming years with enhanced vigor and enthusiasm. 

A special mention:

Md. Ataullah, one of the visionaries of this get-together had to travel to Bangladesh on a short notice to see his ailing grandmother who eventually passed away. May she rest in peace.

The volunteers:
Nazmul Hasan FCC; Hasan FCC; Hainf FCC ; Iftikhar Uddin FCC ; Anis FCC; Hasib FCC; Mahfil MCC ; Tareq Saifur Rahman MCC ; Shamsul Muktadir RCC ; Hanif Suhrawardi RCC ; Sadique Syed JCC ; Rimon Mahmud SCC ; Md. Ataullah SCC ; Sohel Islam SCC ; Arshadul Islam PCC ; Anwar Kabeer PCC ; Golam Hyder BCC ; Shoeb Ahmed BCC ; Asif Ahmed BCC ; Mobinul Islam CCC ; Nahid CCR ; Farzana Naheed MGCC ;

Brochure designer:  Mahfil - MCC 87

The ex-cadets who introduced the members of their respective cadet colleges:
FCC - Hasan (84); JCC -  Sadique (90) ; MCC -  Saif ; RCC -  Hanif (96)   ; SCC -  Rimon (88); CCR -  Nahid (95) ; BCC -  Shoeb (90) ; PCC -  Anwar (90) ;  CCC -  Mobin (90); MGCC – Nipa (86)
Web-site preparation: Ex-Cadets Anwar (PCC, 90), Mobin (CCC, 90), Shoeb (BCC, 90) and Hanif (RCC, 96). Ex-Cadet Kishore (RCC,79). 

The performers:  A. Rahman (FCC, 90), Jolly (wife of Shahidul, FCC 86), Ivana (daughter of Rimon, SCC 88), Tushmit (Daughter of Iftikhar, FCC 89), Jasia (daughter of Shahidul, FCC 86), Preetul (daughter of Badrul Rashid, RCC ), Preetul (daughter of Pasha, PCC 88), Obilia (daughter of Hasan, FCC 84), Tapti (daughter of Hasan, FCC 84), Rodella (daughter of Hanif, RCC 96), Hanif (RCC, 96), Umree (wife of Nahid, CCR 95), Rayan (son of Arifa, MGCC 90) and Farid (JCC, 74).
The ameteaur singing trio A. Rahman (FCC, 90), Sadique (JCC, 90) and Anis (FCC, 96) deserve an especial mention for their immensely entertaining chorus of popular Bangladeshi songs.  

Sponsors:
 Anwar Kamal (RCC, 85) (Real State – Home Life)
Shafik (JCC, 86) (Business person – Rose Brand) 

List of participating Cadet Colleges:

Friday, January 13, 2012

Arab Spring or Eruption?


I don’t think it would be possible to identify a true start date for what has been described as Arab Spring. Yes, it is quite evident that one vendor in Tunisia had helped the uprising to take a dramatic turn, but there is no questioning that a massive grudge had been brewing slowly in the Arab world for a while, owing to issues from economic inequality to widespread suppression lead by autocratic governments in some cases for decades after decades. Let's take a quick look:


Syria – Since 1963 (Hafiz Al Asad and then Bashar Al Asad)
Yemen - Ali Abdullah Saleh - 22 years
Libya - Muammar Muhammad Abu Minyar Gaddafi - 41 years
Tunisia -  Abidine Bin Ali - 24 years
Egypt - Muhammad Hosni El Sayed Mubarak - 30 years
Jordan – Constitutional Monarchy
Saudi Arabia – Absolute Monarchy
Bahrain – Constitutional Monarchy
Kuwait - Constitutional Monarchy
Morocco – Parliamentary Constitutional Monarchy
Algeria – Presidential Republic
Oman – Absolute Monarchy


To understand the origin of the spark that seemingly started the still ongoing upheaval in the Middle East I wanted to know the 26 year old Tunisian man Mohammed Bouazizi from the rural town of Sidi Bouzid with estimated unemployment of 30%, who poured a can of gasoline on his body and set himself alight – around noon – right in front of the governor’s office. A vegetable vendor throughout his youth he was constantly at the receiving end of harassment by the local law and order, possibly for bribes, something he simply couldn’t afford to give. 

On December 17 2010 after being humiliated and his electronic weight machine being confiscated by the local police Mohammed rushed to the governor’s office in a failed attempt to get his equipment back. Within one hour of the police incident, the young man who has been supporting his younger siblings and his mother ended up engulfed in fire, from which he never recovered. He died after 18 days on 4th January 2011.

The demonstrations that began in Sidi Bouzid as a result of his unusual death eventually spread to the capital Tunis, thanks to the secretly shot videos posted on social medias which inspired youths across the country to take to the road. Soon tens of thousands braved tear gas and battled police. After the army refused to shoot protesters Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia with his family, just after 14 days of Bouazizi’s death.

Not even three weeks later, Egypt's army too refused to shoot at the protesters and 82-year-old Hosni Mubarak, who had ruled Egypt for almost three decades had little choice but to resign.

Soon the protesters hit the streets in Benghazi, Libya's second largest city. Months later the struggle ends with Muammar Gaddafi killed while trying to escape. The wave of Arab awakening continued its rage through countries after countries in the Middle East – from Yemen to Morocco to Syria -- a nation infamous for its repression. Eventually a majority of the 22 Arab nations felt the heat of the erupting Arab fire that may soon burn all the disparity in that region and start a true democratic, not theocratic, process to develop. 
Since Bouazizi many others, equally desperate and absolutely frustrated, in the region have followed his path and set themselves on fire. Some of the names:
Mohsen Bouterfif, a 37-year-old father of two, Maamir Lotfi, a 36-year-old unemployed father of six, Abdelhafid Boudechicha, a 29-year-old day laborer who lived with his parents and five siblings, Abdou Abdel-Moneim Jaafar, a 49-year-old restaurant owner of Egypt and many more. Along with them died thousands in the process of demonstrations and armed struggle.  

A notable point:

On 7 October, the Nobel Committee announced that Yemeni protest leader Tawakel Karman would share the Nobel Peace Prize with two others. Karman was the first Yemeni citizen and first Arab woman to win a Nobel Prize.


Regretfully the time for this Arab eruption may have not yet come to a point that it can subside. One cannot stop but wonder about Syria’s fate. The unimaginable cruelty that the Syrian government have unleashed on its own citizens is hard to fathom. As I read the story of the 13 year old baby-faced boy Hamza Ali Al-Khateeb who was killed brutally by the government forces for graffiti against Bashar Al Asad my mind just cringed in total disbelief and disgust.  On April 29, 2011, he was detained during a protest in Dara. On May 25, 2011, his dead body was delivered to his family, tortured, burnt, shot three times, and his genitals cut off.A peak at his image and one must stop to wonder what monstrosity one needs to have to mutilate such an innocent life. The worst part of it is that Hamza wasn’t alone. There have been several other kids killed brutally by the Syrian army. I don’t even want to mention about the thousands of adults who perished.

Will this Arab eruption have enough lava to bury all the wrong and bring a new dawn in Syria? Time will tell.