How come the rich always decide what happens to the poor?

AS the rains shook the deserted streets of Karwan Bazar as people had gone home to watch the Cup, three young boys, stark naked, played on the smooth verandah of a bank, sliding on the tiles. They felt no shame and we didn't feel bothered either. We stand on the same ground but in different worlds. We can't understand each other's shame, because we are invisible to each other.

In every neighbourhood and para, crackers went off and people celebrated the victory of Brazil in the FIFA Cup. Brazil was to many "our team" and when Ronaldo put in two and vanquished the Germans, joy exploded in our world. If the rains hadn't come down with such a vengeance, we would have seen processions on the street. It was seven. Barely three hours later, Adamjee jute mills would be buried. It had already died. There were no mourners except those who had died with it.


******
WE know the names of the super stars, the prizes, the quizes and the whole carnival that has accompanied the Cup. But we have forgotten the names of the girl who broke down and fainted learning that her school was losing down. She's no star, she is just a school girl. She has been held guilty for the loss sustained by Adamjee Jute Mills. She has been punished along with her family. That girl, like many like her, will have to pay for official inefficiency, corruption and lack of planning. This is also called 'good governance' and 'economic reform.'

" Adamjee closure will be good for the economy." A friend said on the phone. "We are forced to pay for the loss."

He is a millionaire and pays less tax than I do.

******
WE had motored down the long road in the mid sixties to see Adamjee Jute Mills. It was then the largest jute mill in the world. The man who accompanied us couldn't hide his pride.

"I have been here since it began. It's what has made Pakistan rich. It has made us important. We may not be rich but we have something which has made the world know us."

Inside the gates, it seemed to be a world of its own. Almost everything seemed to be there. Schools, shops, clinics.

"This is a miracle." One of the managers said, " but the workers are the miracle workers." In by-gone days if you were poor and needed a miracle to survive, Adamjee lent a swift, sometimes irregular hand. It was a space where the workers could breathe free for a few weeks. Sometimes months.

******
THE government and its sponsors, the donors, have said it all. The Stateowned enterprise was losing money, more money than it was possible to sustain. It was always losing money. Yet those connected with Adamjee have almost all become rich. The real rich have been those who were the policy and decision makers whose daughters don't have to faint because the school is being demolished brick by brick.

'Where does your child study?'

It will tell you who you are.

*******
WHAT about Biman?

When is Biman going to be closed down? And loan defaults have gone up as the Bangladesh Bank Governor said. And the loss giving state ceremonies which can keep so many families going?

How much does a Biman pilot get? And what is the amount of retrenched worker's compensation?

How come senior bureaucrats all have fancy houses in Gulshan and Baridhara mixing with the rich and the famous?

How come they get black money breaks in budgets while schools are demolished?

*********

HOW much did we loose in Magurchara?

How much money was made in the Frigate purchase,. the MIG-buying, the distillery licence?.

How much? How much?

*****
HOW many children will lose their chance of becoming educated? Coming as it does in the wake of an energetic education policy, we all have the responsibility to ask this question. We have this responsibility even more because so many of our children study in the finest schools, colleges and universities of the world. Outside Bangladesh.

Who is going to keep the schools going inside Adamjee? I know Harvard will have no problem because our children study there, LSE is our responsibility to keep going and even old Jadavpur in Kolkata isn't doing too bad but what about the school seeing which die the girl fainted?

*****
I don't know whether they still have the restaurant in Islamabad called "Afghan" where they sold real Afghan bread and kabab skewered in fierce short swords. In front of the eatery, refugees would sometimes gather or meet.

A nail bothered my shoe. I had it repaired for a rupee. The boy said nothing. Too much? Too little? I don't know.

I came inside the hotel and told of the incident to my colleagues. An Afghan sitting at the cash counter overheard us.

" Our voices are built with sands. They are carried away by the winds before anyone can hear."

Did you hear what Adamjee's closure says?

*****
Did we hear their voices, these workers for whom we have offered no options?. In the oligarchy of the rich that is Bangladesh, there are few voices and certainly none that are strong enough to be listened to. There is something strangely perverse about the general estimate that the last general election campaign cost was Taka 300 crores to 500 crores apart from the administrative cost of running the elections. And failing to generate industrial projects from concerns and closing them down.

"But this is the price you have to pay for democracy?"

" A democracy which can't give enough to the people to eat?'

" You don't want elections? "

" What about food for the hungry and schools for children?"

"Soon, soon. We shall have it all. It's by closing Adamjee that we can...."

The politician didn't even bother to complete his sentence. He didn't need to.

How long is soon? How long is soon? What is soon?

*****
WHEN the huge jute carrying boats would anchor at Adamjee, so would arrive the cache of arms and the freedom fighters who were hidden, protected and assisted by the workers. The slums of Adamjee has more footsteps of the liberation war soldiers than many other places.

So many were killed. And the Pak army too knew that which is why so many had to suffer. The dream of the workers wasn't a red paradise but a full belly.

We can't afford Adamjee so we have to let go.

So how come we can afford a Mercedez Benz showroom in the city which is the capital of one of the poorest county of them all?

Which is more important? Debates on portraits or exhuming ancient corpses or filling empty bellies?

*****
WE were sitting in a school in Adamjee. The young girl who sat opposite me was smart and surprisingly confident for a 14-year old.

" I want to give you a gift?'

"What gift? I don't want a gift? Please."

"Don't worry Bhaiya. You are a bhadrolok and I know that. What can I give you? I will give you a song to remember."

" That gift will be a pleasure. Sing."

She held me in a steely gaze and sang.

"Amar sonar bangla, ami tomai bhalobashi."

She wept as she sang.

Why that song of all the songs?

*****
THE workers had revolted and were trying to cross a bridge just opposite Adamjee. I had not planned to cover a shoot-out but the police and owners' thugs began to fire. Two workers fell into the canal from the makeshift bridge. The workers retaliated with home made bombs. The sounds and screams were loud and one couldn't see much beyond the smoky haze.

"Keep your head down BBC, " the man screamed. They have already killed. But then a roar went up as the holiday gates of Adamjee opened and men started to pour out.

The roar increased, "Adamjee. Adamjee. Adamjee."

Nothing changed, nothing happened but for a brief moment the poor were not afraid.

Adamjee did that.

****
THE man was weeping and asking the simplest of question.

"What will I do now? What will happen to my family? To my children?

How come those who decide to close Adamjee always make it and those who get sacked never make it. How come the rich always decide what happens to the poor?

How come we are relieved that a loss making unit is closed without understanding an iota of what that means?

*
AS the rains shook the deserted streets of Karwan Bazar as people had gone home to watch the Cup, three young boys, stark naked, played on the smooth verandah of a bank, sliding on the tiles. They felt no shame and we didn't feel bothered either.

We stand on the same ground but in different worlds. We can't understand each other's shame, because we are invisible to each other.

Tomorrow they shall join another factory -- if they are lucky -- till it's milked dry by the owners and their cronies in the government -- and then when there is nothing left to suck, close it down. Like Adamjee.