In response to prompt : Rapid
My Little Comilla!
Comilla is a small town in Bangladesh, this is what it was called small. It was a safe town when we first came here from the big city Rawalpindi in Pakistan.
My Dad liked this little town, it had good schools and a very good college. Before he died he told my mom : If you plan to go back to Bangladesh this is the best town to raise the children, it has everything that a big city has. The plus side is, the cost of living is reasonable.
We were not impressed, because we missed our home in Rawalpindi. We saw nothing that caught our attention, I was always criticizing everything. I had trouble accepting the food that was available, I made fun of the onions sold by the hawker, they are too small, their language is funny, people are nasty they call us foreigners, we were the symbol health, because we were too skinny, perhaps mom didn’t feed us. We disliked them for making fun of us.
I studied privately at home, I couldn’t register in any school, their medium of instruction was Bengali, I studied in a convent where the medium of instruction was English.
My eldest brother bought books for me to prepare for matriculation exam as a private candidate. A year later I passed the exam, and registered in the local college. My classmates were not that great, their question: tumi bangla jano(can you speak Bengali), bothered me.
If I said ‘Yes,’ they’d make a silly face.
This isn’t what I expected in my motherland.
Years later when I went back to my little town, everything seemed different, the town was overcrowded, the clean quiet town was bustling with people and shops. I could not recognise it.
To me it felt as if the town went through a rapid change. This swift change was mind boggling. I could not wait to leave it, it was unrecognisable, it was no longer m y Dad’s favorite quiet place!