Life, As It Is

 (At the request of my friends/followers/fans, I’ve compiled four of my status updates in note form.)

May 5, 2015

: Friend, listen to what I’m saying—after college I’ll give you a lift, drop you off at home in my car.

: Get lost, man!
Keep your lift! I won’t even get into your father’s car—how would you drop me off?

My young friends/fans/followers, this is the attitude! Let your friend get by on his father’s money, but you—don’t you do it. If you want to live with your head held high, you must learn from a young age not to bow your head. Go hungry if you must, but never eat even a single burger bought with someone else’s father’s money if you don’t have the ability or opportunity to buy them a burger another day. Fool in your grandfather’s name, half-wit in your father’s name, prince in your own name. And by another’s father’s name—you’re a complete ass! Whatever you do in life, reach behind and check—is your spine still in the right place? Before sitting down in a restaurant, see if you have the money to pay the bill. The one who pays your bills, buys you chocolate, gives you rides, takes you shopping, lets you use their phone—they’re slowly buying you. Once you develop the bad habit of selling your self-respect, you’ll never be able to grow up in life. I’d bet on it—even your desire will be destroyed. Don’t end before life ends. Keep trying even with your last drop of blood. Death is better than living with a bowed head. As long as you’re alive, never bow your head to anyone, never grovel at anyone’s feet, no matter what kind of king they might be! This habit must be formed in youth. Don’t let your father be diminished before another’s father, even if it costs your life. One day your father won’t be able to support you anymore. That day you’ll have to face the world. Without a backbone, how will you stand?

May 6

Yesterday, after office work and wandering around all day, I had to swallow my reluctance and accept an evening invitation. A gentleman from Beanibazar, Abdul Alim Lodi. (Is he somehow related to Ibrahim Lodi?) Out of love for trees, he has cultivated a garden of medicinal and fruit-bearing plants. He has an intense desire for this Lodi Garden to become known throughout the country. He shows everyone around his garden with tremendous enthusiasm. Yesterday evening I was impossibly tired. Simply because I can never say ‘no’ to anyone, I went to Lodi Garden around half past eight in the evening, moved by his request and eagerness. The garden is filled with many rare indigenous and foreign trees. He was identifying the trees, lighting up his flashlight again and again. I too love trees, I feel a certain tenderness toward them. But due to extreme physical exhaustion, I was feeling terribly irritated. Still, I struggled to keep a smiling face and pretended to listen attentively to his words. Such was my forced, sweaty smile that in every photograph he requested I take, I look like a pickpocket—the kind anyone would want to grab and give a good thrashing to on sight. His tremendous emotion and love for trees is truly something to behold. In this world, it’s possible to create masterpieces with emotion and love alone. What’s also needed is the mindset to work tirelessly. Lodi saheb possesses all of this. With the right perspective, people can achieve the impossible. Yesterday I learned this lesson once again.

I returned to the resthouse around half past ten at night. My body felt ready to collapse. Tomorrow—meaning today—I have plans to go out exploring again at seven in the morning. Meanwhile, I need to finish and submit an article on preparation strategies for the Bangladesh Affairs section of the BCS written exam for Prothom Alo’s Friday career supplement by Wednesday afternoon. This means I absolutely must finish the piece tonight, no matter what. But with this exhausted body, it simply isn’t possible. After bathing, I called Prothom Alo around half past eleven. I asked them to print something like “Due to unavoidable circumstances, today’s article could not be published. It will appear in the next issue.” I told them this because it would be very difficult for me to write with such a weary body. But they informed me that this simply wasn’t possible at this moment. Everyone would be waiting for the article. Even if it’s a bit difficult, could I please be so kind as to write it… I truly felt helpless. I can’t just write carelessly when so many people will read it! On top of that, when writing this kind of article, I feel an immense sense of responsibility. I was reading Shawkat Osman’s “Janani.” After reading a bit more of that, I sat down to write around half past twelve. This sitting wasn’t from necessity, but from emotion, from love, from boundless responsibility. I know I won’t be able to sleep much, tomorrow I’ll have to wander around practically from dawn till dusk, but still. I put on slow instrumental music on my laptop and began writing. After finishing the article and some Facebook scrolling, when I finally went to bed, the clock hands were approaching half past two. Before going to sleep, I swore to myself that no more—from now on I’ll live a little for myself. To hell with it all! What’s the point of all this? Not everyone loves you anyway, some even curse you. Why bother! Enough is enough!… This anger at myself lasted only until dawn! I know that with people’s boundless love, I’ll never be able to stop this relentless labor. Maybe I’ll pause sometimes, but I’ll never stop. What hurts me most is when I see people making nonsensical comments about my work. Even physical pain doesn’t hurt this much. From all this writing, career discussions, motivational counseling—I’ve never taken a single penny!

I slept for about three hours. Set out to explore at seven. Now I’m on the way to Bichanakandi and Panthumai. After this: Ratargul, the citrus gardens of Jaintapur, Rajbari, Lalakhal. The view of vast wetlands and haors stretching across both sides of the road to Bichanakandi is worth seeing. The rows of gentleman-like trees along the roadside, racing through them. Indeed, life is racing onward! Whether through beauty or ugliness. Life is not only beautiful, life is ugly too. I’m reminded of my favorite poet Robert Frost: What I’ve learned about life I can tell in three words—life goes on. Even keeping in mind Andy Dufresne’s words from The Shawshank Redemption, life can be lived quite well: Get busy living, or get busy dying.

May 7th

Tomorrow’s Prothom Alo will feature my article on preparation strategies for the Bangladesh Affairs paper in the BCS written examination. Last week’s piece focused on International Affairs. I’ve now covered all the written exam subjects. If any additional techniques come to mind, I’ll share them on my Facebook wall. Those who don’t have these articles can find my older posts on my wall. In a few days, I’ll write something for Prothom Alo about overall preparation strategies and exam fitness.

Here I am, writing about Bangladesh Affairs and International Affairs! The whole thing still feels surreal to me! Why? Let me explain.

I don’t have the habit of reading newspapers. Before I started preparing for the BCS exam, I barely read anything in the papers except the entertainment and literary pages. We had two newspapers at home—I didn’t read either of them. Compelled by necessity for BCS preparation, I started reading 5-6 newspapers online daily, but once I landed the job, I abandoned newspaper reading again. What was happening in the country and the world, which way the political winds were blowing, the flow of business and commerce—I never had any headaches over these matters. I knew nothing about them, understood nothing, and felt no regret about it either. My principle has always been: if something isn’t necessary for me or doesn’t appeal to me, I don’t trouble myself with it. Why must one know everything? “Those who are happy knowing everything about the world—let them stay happy.”

I began preparing for the BCS examination. I realized I had only 4-5 months left for both the preliminary and written tests. (In reality, I had even less time.)

My first impression after starting preparation: everyone knows everything, I know nothing. I saw many people who had completed their honors, masters, and PhD in BCS studies and were now pursuing postdoctoral research. In a coaching class on international affairs, a teacher made me stand up and asked, “What is the name of India’s Foreign Minister?” (Later I learned it should be “External Affairs Minister.”) A boy who feels proud and chatters excitedly just because he knows the name of India’s Prime Minister—well, he couldn’t be expected to know this, and there was no question of him feeling guilty about not knowing! I couldn’t answer. Looking around, I saw the snickering had begun. That’s when I understood: “This was supposed to be an easy question.” The teacher said, “Let’s see, can anyone else answer?” Everyone raised their hands and gave the answer. Everyone could do it!

I realized that at this moment, I should probably make my face look a bit embarrassed. As I was trying to transform my shameless expression into something more bashful, the teacher said, “I’ve heard a lot of praise about you. You’re supposedly a computer engineer, a good student. Why can’t you answer this? What’s your age?” I thought, what’s the story here? Is he trying to arrange my marriage or something? But who would give their daughter to an unemployed fellow like me?

(I wasn’t actually unemployed—I had my own coaching center and other businesses; I earned quite a lot of money. But in our country, if educated boys don’t have jobs, everyone assumes they’re unemployed.) While thinking all this, I told him my age.

The reply I heard was: “Oh, I see! You still have time left. You can at least attempt BCS 3-4 more times. Keep trying. There’s no chance of success on the first attempt—if you try 2-3 times, you might succeed. Your basics are weak.” I said nothing to the teacher. But I felt very upset. All my trust and respect for him vanished. He seemed to me like an irresponsible person. Someone who could make such a confidently wrong assessment of me on first sight, without knowing me—there was no question of attending his classes, no matter how good they might be! I already know I don’t know anything! That’s precisely why I came to coaching. Would I have come if I knew everything? Did I struggle so hard, waste so much time, pay for transportation to come from home to this coaching center just to hear that I’m a fool?

I don’t need to travel this far to hear that. If I stayed home, my mother would tell me the same thing at least ten times a day! Right then I decided I would never attend that man’s classes again. And I didn’t.

I learned later that he was a distinguished BCS specialist—extremely weak in mathematics, English, Bengali, and science, yet a great pundit in general knowledge, who had failed the BCS exam five times. He could pinpoint the reasons for everyone’s failures except his own. He knew that Sushanta couldn’t handle general knowledge at all. But what he didn’t know was that Sushanta, while perhaps not better than any honors or master’s student in Bengali, English, mathematics, or science, was certainly no worse. He also didn’t know that you can sit in various cages like a parrot, calling out memorized general knowledge in charming ways, even earning some applause, but you cannot become a BCS cadre that way. You might know the name of Clinton’s wife’s friend’s pet dog by heart, but if you translate “My grandfather had a black dog” into English as “My grandfather was a black dog…” nothing will come of it. I’m telling you the truth—absolutely nothing will come of it.

In my first model test on international affairs at the coaching center, I scored 17 out of 100! Needless to say, mine was the lowest score. The second-lowest was 38—four points more than double my score! Imagine my condition! I could have consoled myself thinking that the others had started much earlier, that I had never even heard of BCS before, that I was just beginning. But I didn’t do that. I thought, fine, maybe I don’t know anything, but that’s hardly my fault. However, if I don’t do anything to overcome that weakness, if I just sit there with my hands and feet folded, that would certainly be my fault! I began studying with tremendous effort, starting absolutely from zero. Instead of feeling dejected thinking about what others could do, I started working with two things in mind. First, how much do I actually need to know what everyone else knows? I stopped studying blindly and began studying with understanding. I shed the notion that I had to study exactly what everyone else studied. Second, instead of comparing myself with someone good at general knowledge, I started comparing myself with myself. I would only think about how much more or less today’s Sushanta could do compared to yesterday’s Sushanta. My competition was with myself alone. Not with anyone else—”today’s me” would try to surpass “yesterday’s me.” I did this every single day. Those who perform well don’t become so good overnight. This skill is acquired through much effort and practice. If a student who usually scores 20 in math manages to score 24 one day, then that student is successful. I know that 33 is passing and they still failed, but I would still say they succeeded. They managed to surpass themselves. Continuing this way, one day they’ll score 100 out of 100! For this, they’ll need to work tremendously hard with understanding and turn it into a habit. The interesting thing is, winning is a habit. Someone who gets one job keeps getting jobs. Let me mention here that losing is also a habit. By the way, those of you taking coaching classes, don’t feel bad if you get low marks in coaching tests. Many people arrange questions beforehand to look like heroes in front of girls and then take the “exam.” Getting coaching questions in advance is no big deal. I’ve seen many such fellows get caught red-handed.

The boy who had never
properly heard the name BCS,
who had never in his life
taken any job examination—if that boy could top the BCS exam on his very first attempt, then why can’t you? Whether topping comes by luck or not,
if you stake your heart and soul and try
your utmost, at least you’ll get the job. Are you thinking I topped it all fun and games? Not at all! For this I had to spend countless nights without sleep. I had to bid goodbye to many small
pleasures. I had to keep my mouth shut and digest people’s grand pronouncements while studying.

I believe
you can do it too. Those who
get jobs are not in any way
more qualified than you are. Have faith in yourself, respect yourself, work day and night to fulfill your dreams. Leave the rest to the Creator!

Good luck!

May 8th

I’m sharing a true
story.

A girl from the remotest village. 3.88 in SSC—a middling result. She got admitted to a decent college near her home. Near, meaning 4 kilometers away from home. No transport available, she had to walk; during the rains through knee-deep mud. Many of her classmates had proper teachers from childhood, had opportunities to attend coaching, and being children of aware parents, they already knew how to study. The girl had never dreamed of any of this. She never had the means or opportunity for private tutoring. One day the college English teacher told the girl, “You join my batch.” The girl immediately said, “No sir! Those who study in your batch are very good at English. I don’t know anything, sir. I won’t go.” The teacher insisted, “You come tomorrow morning. We’ll see about the rest later.” The next day the girl went to the coaching with great hesitation. Being a village girl, she didn’t even know how to speak properly, and on top of that was extremely weak in English. She found about 30 students in the coaching; all of them knew much better English than her. She kept going regularly. She was too shy to speak. She would go, sit quietly in a corner through the class, and when it ended, go to college.

It happened one day. She mispronounced an English word in class. One of her classmates burst into such loud laughter that the sound still rings in her head. That day she was so wounded that after coaching she didn’t go to college—she came home, shut her room door, and wept for a long time. That very day she made a silent vow: no matter what it took, she would master English! With tremendous willpower and effort, she began to study. Her English teacher always encouraged and helped her. She had one burning desire—somehow, anyhow, she would score even one mark higher than her classmates! She tried as if her life depended on it. Through relentless effort, she came first in a term exam at their college. And from then on, she was always first. The girl who once couldn’t even pronounce English words, who understood nothing of simple grammar, whose vocabulary was absolutely zero—that same girl got an A+ in English on her HSC exam; her marks were the highest in her college. She was determined to do her honors and master’s in “that very English” from Dhaka University. And later, that’s exactly what she did.

Another incident intensified her resolve. After taking her HSC exams, before the results came out, she enrolled in an admission test coaching center. She barely spoke in class. She only answered what the teachers asked. One day in class, a teacher asked her, “What does your father do?” She answered with pride, “He’s a farmer.” The teacher then asked with contempt and disdain, “You mean he’s a peasant?” The girl said, “Yes, sir.” “Then surely he doesn’t know how to read and write. So who teaches you at home?” Her classmates were snickering at all this. Fighting back tears, she managed to say, “Sir, I study on my own. My elder brother always encourages me.” After saying just this much, the little girl sat down. After the admission test results, the coaching center called her for a photo session. She was the only one from their batch who got into Dhaka University. Her picture with her poor, illiterate farmer father was printed in the coaching center’s leaflet. That day, a friend from her batch had scolded her, calling her foolish for revealing her father’s identity, saying she should have “tactfully” avoided that information. And now that same girl can speak of her farmer father and her rural joint family with her head held high, with pride. That little girl will spend her whole life being proud of her extraordinarily beautiful rural family.

In a country where the children of farmers don’t receive their due respect, where during marriages, people of high lineage but low character and taste are given preference, where students from “inferior” schools and colleges are assumed to be “inferior” students, where people are still judged by external glitter, where shallow, superficial smartness displayed by worthless boys is valued, where only the rich man’s child gets the big chair, where spineless boys sit around hoping to be established after marriage with their wives’ fathers’ money—I believe such a country, whatever else it may be, cannot go very far. This is truly shameful. Our mindset is responsible for this pitiful state of our country.

I myself was a student at one of Chittagong’s most ‘worthless’ schools—Chittagong Municipal Model High School. Everyone looked down on the school and mockingly called it the ‘bucket school.’ I had to endure so much contempt and ridicule. Today I am proud of my ‘bucket school’!!

You young ones who speak so grandly! Believe this elder brother—life won’t always remain like this. When the day comes that you’ll have to walk with your head bowed before society, where will you run then? While there’s still time, try right now to strengthen your position. Think a little about those who flatter you—what interest drives them to do this? Life won’t always go on this way. Try to make your parents respected in society’s eyes. How much shame and suffering there is in living as a nobody in this world—I know this all too well. Respect people, learn to be humble, and develop the habit of working tremendously hard. Now is the time to whip life into shape, not to enjoy it. My best wishes remain with you.