Shaken the roots of the existence
1974, the year that shook me to the roots of my existence. Bangladesh is facing the terrible famine of service.
Newspapers from the remote villages and district towns started publishing news of starvation and death. The University of which I was the head of the economy, was on the southeast end of the country. At first I did not pay special attention to this. Gradually, the presence of the people of the skeleton was found in Dhaka's railway stations and buses. The news of two or four dead bodies was coming soon.
In the city of Dhanmondi, the startling of the human race, which started as a leopard
Crowd of starving people everywhere Even the difference between dead and living people became difficult. It was not possible to make any difference between men, women and children. The old men looked like children. On the other hand, the appearance of the children is like old people.
The lancarakhana was opened by the government to gather these people in one place and provide food to the city. But their capabilities were inadequate compared to the needs.
The newspapers were warning people about what was going on in the horrendous situation. The research centers were gathering the necessary information from where the so many hungry people are coming out of the procession? Can they return to their place if they are alive? Are they likely to survive?
All that was happening was simply not being able to eat a single dough. In a world so abundant, the human rights of the human being so dear? When everyone is bitten around, he is hungry! The little child who has not yet discovered any mysteries of the world, he is crying only continuously - after the end, he has fallen asleep tired, due to lack of milk he needs. The next day she did not have the strength of that tears.
How did the theory of economics solve all economic problems easily, I used to feel adventurous to teach students this lesson. The fluidity and excellence of these theories made me amazed. Now in my mind a strange vacuum was created. What is the value of such a good theory when people are starving in the footpath and starving?
Where is the realization of these realities of economics? How can I tell the story of the students in the name of economics?
I wanted to get rid of these textbooks, the serious theory. I realized, I have to run away from the world of education. I sincerely understood the difficult realities surrounding the existence of poor people. I got excited to discover the life-changing economy of the university near the university. Good luck, Jobra village is almost bound by my university boundaries.
I decided, I will be a new student again and my university will be Jobara village, the villager will be my teacher.
I promised, we will try hard to know everything about village and learn. It seems that if I fully understand the life of a poor man, I would be happy. This is my liberation beyond the teaching of the book.
I started traveling to the village of jobra to see if I could come directly from the villagers. My colleague professor Latifi was with me. He was familiar with almost all the families of the village. The ability of the village to adopt very easily was his instincts.
While interviewing women in Muslimpara, we had to interact with Chik Abdal. According to the curriculum, the married woman had to be as exterior from the outside world. This rule was very strictly observed in Chittagong district. In that case, I used to use my students to act as an interpreter.
I am the people of Chittagong. Local Language I Know So it was easier for me to achieve their trust than an outsider. Despite this, the work was very difficult.
I love kids Praising his child to mother is the most usual way to make him easy.
Likewise, I picked up one of the children in the lap. She started crying and ran for her mother. Mother took her in the lap.
Latifi asked, 'what are your children?'
The answer came, 'three.'
'Excellent boy,' I said. Reliant mother came in the lap with her lap. His age is near twit. Lean body, dirty color, two deep dark black eyes She wearing a red sari. Millions of women, who worked hard to prepare for lack of urgency, their representatives seemed to him.
'What is your name?'
'Sufia Begum.'
I did not take any notepad or pen, lest he be terrified. The next time the students gave that burden.
I saw bamboo wings and said, 'this bamboo is your own?'
'Yes.'
'How did they get them?'
'Buy.'
'How much did it cost?'
'Five Rupees.'
'Do you have five money?'
'No. I'll borrow from the peers. '
'What is your settlement with her?'
'The ends of the day will be sold to him to repay the debt. Then what I live with is my profit. '
'How much did one sell?'
'Five hundred fifty paisa.'
'Then your profit is fifty paisa.'
He shook his head and agreed. That means the total profit is only fifty paisa.
'You can not buy the raw material by borrowing money?'
'Yes we can But the moneylenders took a lot of interest. Those who start borrowing, they become more poor. '
How much money does the moneylender make?
'Not good. Sometimes ten times every week. One of my neighbors is paying ten rupees every day. '
'So your income is so low in exchange for such a fine dye? Just fifty paisa for each. '
'Yes.'
In the Third World countries, the rate of interest has become so precise and natural that the buyer does not take note of the agreement, only such an agreement is to be named. One penny borrowed at the beginning of the cultivation of rice in village-Bengal is to pay two pounds of rice by the rice.
Sufia Begum again started her work. He did not have the means to waste time talking to us. His brown brown hand burnt in his sun was bunting the bamboo scarf. He works day after day, month after month. I looked so. This is his way of living. He was sitting on barefoot, on rough hard soil. The hand touches the fingers, the nails are blackened by mud.
His children can go out of this cycle of poverty
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