Flag days

Here’s a look at a view from my rooftop. Just multiply these flags by a few thousands, and you have a partial idea of how it looks around Dhaka these days.

I love this month long party going on all over the world!

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Got some likes!

And just like that, I got some likes and follows! If anything will get me to get my butt moving, it’ll be the sweet ding on my phone that one more person liked what they read on my page. I will do a mental victory dance now and consider that missing the back to back goals in the Argentina v Nigeria match going on was worth it.

To Write Everyday

To those bloggers who write every day, who religiously preserve their presence by having something to say for their readers, even if it’s just saying hi, I tip my hat to you. How do you do it? Most days I have a hundred things running through my mind that I feel are worth writing about, then I type something up – only to delete it after the second read through. It leaves me wondering why I put myself through this tasking process of coming up with something coherent and at least a little bit interesting.
Now I figure I may as well not bother anymore. My target is to write, to let the fingers form the words before my brain can judge them. To write about an old favorite song coming up on the radio, of the hassles of choosing a better theme for the blog, of wondering how nice it would be to watch a football match in Brazil right now. Just write about anything, girl. So, I pledge allegiance. To my blog. It and I will get along. I will not be scared of the few visitors who happen to stumble across. I will have nothing to say but I shall claim in sans-serif that I have nothing to say. And I will do it often!


The aeroplane

The skyline of Dhaka knows no rules. The buildings follow an almost-there similar pattern whose differences somehow give the city’s skyline its unique character. A silent cloud of haze and smog hangs over the buildings that give the horizon a permanent grayish tint. Blue and gray and white and gold all mingle all throughout the day for the fleeting eyes of someone who cares to sneak a peek from the dedication of looking straight ahead.

Between these colors, almost every morning I see a plane taking off. It rises off the top of tall apartment building, or appears out of nowhere from behind a cloud. Usually the planes would swing a wide arc and head west, or north, or towards some unknown, and in my mind, exciting destination. I follow it from my place in the traffic for as long as I can, watching it sink in between clouds and rise higher and higher. I try to guess the type of plane, if possible the airliner and the destination.

There is nothing I love better than the beginning of a journey. Even if it is tedious at best and includes boring stop overs and cramped leg space and weird seat neighbors. The start of a journey, for me, is the best part of a journey.

Like many others I too would like to pack up and see all there is to see. I will get on planes, and I will look down and compare the cities from thousands of feet in the air. It would get dreary and annoying and the hassle through baggage claims and long hauls would just not seem worth it anymore. Then I’ll tell myself, one day I looked up and saw a plane. And now I’m flying..