Bangladesh-based football media platform Plaantik has published a first-of-its-kind book in the form of an anthology on Bangladesh's unique football culture.
Titled “Plaantik: An Anthology of Bangladesh's Football Culture”, the book boasts a star-studded list of authors, including Bangladesh men's and women's national team captains Jamal Bhuiyan and Sabina Khatun, British Bangladeshi Hamza Choudhury, who plays for English club Watford on loan from Leicester City, Anwar Uddin MBE, Reshmin Chowdhury, and many more.
The following excerpt, from an essay by Ehsan Mahmud titled “Flags and Screens,” has been taken from the book. You can order your copy at plaantik.com/book
I love Chinese food.
Let me be more specific - I love Bangladeshi Chinese food.
Some of the names on the menu have the word Shanghai or Peking squeezed in, but the flavours that show up on the table are more of a hybrid cuisine - tuned to perfection for Bangladeshi sensibilities.
Honking your horn in traffic is a desperate last measure in other parts of the world, but in the streets of the country's capital, Dhaka, it's how we communicate with each other. We meet our significant other's family first to establish wedding venues and dates, let everyone in our social circles know that we're getting engaged and after that we pop the big question to our admittedly less surprised fiancés.
That is the Bangladeshi way. We take something, add a bit of spice - no pun intended - and then make it our own.
And I love that about us.
Naturally, we've claimed the World Cup for ourselves too. The tiny matter of our country never having qualified for the tournament hasn't kept us from living and breathing every second of the action.
We start with flags. Flags flying on rooftops and in balconies. Flags painted on walls and on faces. We pledge our allegiances. Loudly. Some of us fly Brazilian colours, having been raised in homes faithful to the Seleção for generations. Some of us witnessed divine intervention from the Hand of God in ‘86, and have stuck by the signature sky blue and white since. My buddy Linea's entire family roots for Germany for some reason I don't know - I should ask, now that I think of it. And I, who have never once been to England, hang St. George's cross from my window. For a month, Bangladesh will represent the whole world.
Then, all the long-established personal messenger threads with fellow club fans get messy. Rasheed and I, supporters of two fierce club rivals, suddenly find ourselves on the same side. On the flipside, Hashmi and Reaz, whom l've shared every momentous club success and failure with, have their hopes pinned on a different nation. We are now in unfamiliar territory with new allies and new enemies.
Keen entrepreneurs, big and small, adapt quickly to improve their profit margins. Cafés try to earn your business with hastily assembled projectors and the newest football-related platters. Football's famous faces start showing up on soda cans to try and convince you to spend a little extra on your grocery trip. Television sales go up. Flagmakers enjoy their most lucrative season apart from national holidays.
Fantasy league invite codes are shared. A few jerseys are bought too. I'm never seen without the England kit that my friend Sabreena got me from the United Kingdom in 2010. The rest of Bangladesh divides into either a sea of yellow or the sky blue and white combination.
Before you know it, the first match kicks off.