Today we shine a light on the fantastic Ishrat Jahan who, alongside her work as a researcher, also writes for The Daily Star newspaper in Bangladesh. In the extract that follows, Ishrat’s narrator says Dhaka ‘repels attempts to categorise or document it’, but Ishrat herself is able to bring the city into sharp focus, transporting us to Noor Manzil Road and its changing skyline.
Our showcase is tomorrow! Join us to celebrate the journey and successes of Ishrat and her fellow Write Beyond Borders mentees.
When Skylines Change
Ishrat Jahan
The changes began soon after we had moved in…or was it some years later? Although the sense of time is suspended in the handful of memories I have, what remains is the feeling of things slipping away from my world, which back then had not extended beyond the length of Noor Manzil Road.
It is difficult to trace such changes, especially here. The city repels attempts to categorise or document its nature and flow. Trying to bring Dhaka into uniform definitions is regarded as a confusing and difficult task that has never reached any conclusive end. It is like tracing the path taken by cable lines from densely packed apartments. First, they crawl through the gaps between buildings, around tree trunks and branches. Then, they merge into the mass of wires that are knotted in infinite loops; twisted in ways which have fused them together over the years on shabby utility poles that no one dares touch, let alone replace.
So all we have, when looking back, are half-vivid, half-murky images, murmurs and whispers of change making their way through damp alleys and burrowing in our darkened rooms.
The constructions began, as if all at once. Family-owned bungalows and small apartments were sold off, gigantic yellow machines squeezed through our narrow street to pummel them to the ground. All of a sudden, this quiet nook became a focus point for developers, but it was not just my corner of the world that was changing.
Across the Dhanmondi area, it was hard not to notice ongoing construction sites and large billboards on small, dilapidated properties – “Coming Soon! Seneca Utopia – Flats for Sale – Call 188893303”; “Legal Notice: This land belongs to Trifecta Properties”; “Under Construction: Anta Development Presents – La Fontana Luxury Apartments”; “Find Your Dream Home Today! Call 188764333”.
The chatter on the street was that this is what progress looked like – the task of replicating photoshopped images of skyscrapers originating somewhere in America, Japan or London onto Dhaka’s landscape. Apartments, slim and towering – eight, ten, and sometimes, if a builder was ambitious enough, twenty stories high – became common-place. Glass panes and grill-installed windows replaced the view of streets and open grounds, strangers and their lives became visible and audible, only an arm’s length away. With no sunshine to let in or skies to see – and the sudden lack of privacy – we eventually stopped opening our curtains.
The most elaborate sign of progress in our neighbourhood was the luxury apartment right across the street. A 15-storied complex, comprising two blocks of flats painted in part grey and part turquoise. By the time construction was completed, all we could see from our balcony were endless rows and columns of windows. Most of them belonged to empty flats, except for one, up on the 6th or 7th floor.
One afternoon as I crouched beside the tulsi plant on the balcony, craning my neck in an attempt to count all the veins on a leaf as sparse sunlight went through it – I saw her. More precisely, I saw it.
My memory of the incident begins with an acute awareness of being watched. I looked up to notice a woman’s form leaning out of the window, only the face and shoulders visible, as if floating in the darkness of the room . But then I noticed the eyes. No, not eyes, just empty sockets that stared directly at me.
Ishrat Jahan lives in Dhaka, Bangladesh, and works as a researcher in public health. In her writing she tries to articulate a range of emotions and experiences tied with memories, families and childhood.
For Ishrat, the Write Beyond Borders programme was a novel opportunity to learn about the craft of writing from established authors and fellow mentees. To her, the insights shared from inhabiting different spaces and realities across four countries was an invaluable aspect of this journey. The sense of community fostered through this programme has helped her let go of the fear of not being good enough. She has found not only the tools to hone her skills, but also the confidence to share her work.
You can connect with Ishrat on Twitter @jahan1620
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