6pm in the evening and there we were, at ‘TSC-er mor.’ Hasib, Tawheed and I, three educational researchers, were on a mission possible: Venture to the Ekushey Boi Mela 2014 and purchase books for two school libraries. Apparently, the running joke, as Hasib informed us, is that this year’s fair has been partitioned into two regions: West Bengal and East Bengal. I eventually realized what this meant: For the first time in history, this year’s Boi Mela, organized by the Bangla Academy, was held in two separate areas — The Suhrawardy Udyan and the Bangla Academy grounds itself.
The road leading to the Bangla Academy from ‘TSC-er mor’ did not have bookstalls lined up on its sidewalks due to this year’s ‘partition,’ but was riddled with a motley crew of hawkers on mats or carts selling bags, scarves, toys, flowers and snacks as well as pirated and possibly non-pirated books. As I attempted to comprehend the patterns in stall organization, I was interrupted by Tom, an artist who appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the hand of an unsuspecting Tawheed, using it as his newly acquired canvas. In a matter of seconds, red and white Bangla letters emerged on Tawheed’s pale palm.
When the brushstrokes ceased, the artist smiled and said, “Now, could I get some tips?”
Before the generously-tipped Tom could latch onto my hand, we moved on towards the grounds of the Bangla Academy, d i s c u s s i n g how we could distribute the books we would purchase for our two schools: Should we buy two copies of the same book to give out, one to each school or buy just single copies of a book? Eventually, we decided we would stick to ... our conversation got interrupted, as I was distracted by a merry bunch of Che Guevara enthusiasts, complete with T-shirts, beards and commie caps. I wondered that this was, after all, the Dhaka University campus — a place where isms thrived and were flaunted. This flaunting was to be captured and televised by cameramen from various TV channels, whose presence seemed greater in number compared to previous years.
The Bangla Academy – or the “West Bengal” — grounds greeted us with a stage set up for performances and talks. We were, however, men on a mission, and the bookstalls beckoned to be explored. This exercise compelled me to travel back to the past – what did I enjoy reading as a student? Should I think just about myself? Maybe Tawheed and Hasib and especially, the children, have different tastes. Eventually, I figured that I should ... my conversation with myself was interrupted as Tawheed’s stomach growled and we soon found ourselves in front of four plates of luchi and chaap.
Our fourth companion was Hasib’s brother, Mamun, who was incidentally, manning one of the ‘little mag’ stalls representing a Rajshahi University-based literary club. In fact, another first for the 2014 fair was the allocation of a designated area for the various ‘little mags.’ In case you are wondering, ‘little mags’ are small, self-published magazines put out by clubs that are usually made up of volunteers who contribute out of a love for a particular discipline, such as literature, science, etc. as explained to us by Mamun, who is writing his thesis on this very topic. Our discussion turned to various examples of how informal get-together and club addas often provided a key source of inspiration for some of our greatest intellectuals. This made me think about the need for a safe space where people could come together and addafy on whatever interested them, a place which would spark creativity and innovation.
How could we design such spaces? How could we sustain them ... I was interrupted by Dick, the waiter, who smiled knowingly, asking, “Thank you for having food with us, now could you give me some tips?”
As the tipped-off Dick walked off, with our appetites satisfied, we whisked past the ‘little mag’ installments, where I selfishly purchased a newly published dictionary of a different kind – Bangla gali (curse words) – a much-needed tool for both developing my skills in the mother tongue and for fending for myself on the streets of Dhaka.
At the Academy’s main bookshop, we stopped to discuss whether to buy the usual threesome of dictionaries (Bangla, Bangla to English and English to Bangla) or depend upon the internet to take care of translations? Lost in translation, we eventually decided to … this time, my eyes were distracted by yet another treasure trove, the fascinating, newly-published Bibortonmulok (Evolution-based) Bangla dictionary – a dictionary that meticulously details the evolutionary history of each word. Since I was designing a 6th grade lesson on work, or karma, I was not completely convinced when I checked out the word and there did not seem to be any mention of its Sanskrit origins.
Dictionaries purchased and minds befuddled over what karma was all about, we reminded ourselves that our mission karma was yet to be accomplished. We approached the children’s section of the book fair. “Mom, look, that book’s in 3D!” an enthusiastic boy exclaimed, pointing towards a series of pop-up books we eventually acquired. I began to observe the sea of children around me, trying to figure out whether they were the best compasses to guide us to the books we needed to get.
While we did utilize the children’s expertise, we also went on to purchase books that were bilingual – Aesop’s fables written in Bangla and in English; locally produced comics that told the stories of Tagore, Lalon, Bidyasagar and several other icons of the past. Tawheed mentioned that there seemed to be a lack of books catering towards early learners and pre-primary students (hint, hint, publishers!).
Suhrawardy Udyan – or “East Bengal” – greeted us with the looming tower (Eye of Sauron). This part of the fair was clearly the bigger portion and here we found Humayun Sir waving from the window of the ever-crowded AnyaProkash. Time flew, we kept on our quest, but as we passed book after book after book, one thought kept gnawing at my mind – most of our book designs, fonts, sizes and paper texture felt the same year after year — was this due to a lack of innovation or a lack of funds?
Are there creative ways to make books look more interesting, despite a lack of funds? Or are our book publishers just being lazy?
Of course, there were innovatively designed exceptions and we ended up collecting around eighty books which we felt would be engaging. As we sat down in the food court, plates of fuchka were served to us. Hasib pointed out signs reading ‘Pay First’ and ‘Self-service’ – we did neither and I wondered what the signs were doing there in the first place, if they were not being followed.
Were these metaphorical symbols of the state of literacy our country is yet to achieve? Or was it just a marketing tool, to show off some English signs to customers? My answer to this was … I was interrupted by Harry, another waiter, who politely asked, “By the way, what about my tip?” I laughed out loud – having achieved the mission possible, I realized that the books had made my day, but so had Tom, Dick and Harry.
