A tale of lonesome me

A Tale of Lonesome me

My life before the war (from birth to 1974)-   Lubna was my name given to me at birth, an Arabic name.  As far as I could recall, we used to  live in Tiger Road in Dacca cantonment - the capital of East Pakistan.  We were family of five- mom, dad, two bros & one sis- which is me. I began my school life near where we lived & ended  in the same school. I still remember when my younger brother was born in the army hospital, we visited the newborn every day & had some treats on our way home, that was when our dad told us you have a little one to share your life. I started school with big bushy hair which made me crazy all the time; one day my dad took me to hotel intercontinental & had me a boy cut, I screamed & cursed my parents, but now I know it was the  best thing  they did my parents  make my life much easier. You only fail when you quit. if you don't know the whole story then shut up.

My dad had frequent postings to West Pakistan, we the family  also moved along with him. The war broke out in March 1971 in East Pakistan. The fighting continued for almost a year; India helped the Bengalese by giving  them shelter. Independence was declared in East Pakistan in Dec 1971, one of my mother's  cousin sister became widow in the war. We were in West Pakistan, as my dad was on deputation from the army to the civil side & he was there as long as his work needed him. He decided to return back to the  country & raise us in a Bengali way. We were sent to camps ; all Bengalese from different parts of Pakistan gathered for repatriation. Some of them were scared & fled early, crossing India by foot, bus or train but we waited.  Each army family was given flats, a place surrounded by huge & rough mountains inhabited by tribal Pakistanis'. Extreme cold & extreme dry heat made our nose bleed. Never tell your problems to anyone because 80% don't care & 20% glad you have them.

Later we moved to another remote district in Pakistan by train & shared a house with another army family. Rankers were placed in small quarters. We were held in a restricted area which was guarded with wired fence.  A sum of money & ration was fixed for each family. Once a week an adult could go out with permission in the town for shopping beside food. There was a canteen inside the fenced area for grocery & food. We had a temporary school run by the Bengalese under the tree shade, sitting on the wooden benches & a black board for teacher who was one of our neighbors. One a half year went by, we enjoyed the dramas, songs, dances which were performed by kids. My mother, along with unties used to sit leisurely in groups, chatting, knitting sweaters in winter & doing embroidery work in summer. Sometimes our lives have to be completely shaken up, changed & rearranged to relocate us to the place we're meant to be. 

   The war & post war period didn’t affect the children. We could contact our relatives back in new BD by radio when the telephone lines were cut off.  Grownups were eagerly waiting to end camp life & hoping Pakistan government would let us go.  Our neighbor baby born in camp life grown big by now. It's hard to see how bengalese made the camp life so own so quick . Suddenly we heard one of the army officer’s son killed in the road accident. We were terrified by the news. Soon the family & the dead body flown back to BD. They signed  an agreement between Pakistan & BD.  Repatriation began at the end of 1973 batch by batch. Instead of walking  back home crossing India, we flew back to BD by air. By the courtesy of red cross, Air Jordan flew us home with our freight &  servant in Dec 1974, three hours of air journey (PK time is 1 hr. behind BD). Some of the Bengali families stayed back took PK citizenship. It was about what you're made of, not the circumstances.  

My life after the war in New BD. (from 1974- 1983) My dad joined the army again. We moved to a rented house for a year  until our cantt residence was completed. My dad took the loan from the BD government & paid back monthly ,finally loan  ended in 1990.  I grew up in the army environment. I saw soldiers parading in the street, in the shops, post office, bank, army personnel/ special intelligence roaming with walkie-talkie, big army trucks, jeeps, car driven by army officers in the streets- that was everyday picture. A quiet calm & clean place where my dad was on the top of my head to protect me- a daughter of a general, a princess in my dad's kingdom, what more you could expect.  The good people will give you Happiness. The bad people give you Experience. The worst people give you a lesson. The best people give you memories.  

Soon I started going to same school but in a different name. My brothers did the same. The school was meant for army kids, run by army administrators. Unlike any other schools, it was different. We were taught discipline, punctuality, cleanliness, good moral, sport- where we  had physical activity which was far more better then other school. Lot of attention was given to outdoor sports activity . Standard of English was better then other school, we had project works which requires searching books for better study. I still remember when one of my grand dads from mother side used to call me Princess Ann from British royal family, I never understood why on earth I was compared to her & still I don’t. My mother took the courageous step undergone surgery several times in the army hospital during my dad’s army service & by mercy of God she survived. When I was 10, I learned music at home but due to my bad vocal I couldn't continue instead I screamed a lot when things were not going the  right way ; but my passion for music continued &  it was always in my heart. In my repertoire, music -the right kind which I believe can purify soul. Music speaks when words can't express your feelings.

In 1975 when I was in class 5 my mother took me to new TV center in Rampura where I was participated in the art competition, it was 2 days program.with the TV, lights & camera on I was the first one focused on TV  that day news at 8 , even though my ' 2 bengali women working on the rice paddy' couldn't win any prize in the art competition  but same thing sketching in ink  later  after my HSC in 1983 in the newspaper Bangladesh times along with 3 other articles . I was not conscious about my looks, sun tanned for outdoor activities, skin & bone with heavy set of shoulder length hair at home busy with fairy tale stories & books which was not meant for school syllabus . In my report card- Lack of attention was the complaint I used to get from my teachers  at school. Going to picnic, museum or zoo from the school, participating in school sports, science fair , poster making  was a big event in my life. I finished my school final result was good & went to a better college.It was the  toughest part in my life in too short 2 yrs I spent  there studies were hard to engulf  I was not that proud of it but I crossed the barrier  I never knew time was passing very quickly. I grew up also quick . You don't realize how much you have neglected yourself until you make yourself a priority again. 

As we were very close nit family, participating on uncles , unties wedding,  cousin's birthdays was my recreation time. But we were scared of the killings going on in the military. In 1975, the head of nation Sheik Muzib & his family was assassinated. In 1977, when my air force uncle was killed in a military coup, shook my grandparents a lot. Then in 1983, in army coup President Ziaur Rahman was killed.  In life, you will realize there is a role for everyone you meet. Some will test you. Some will use you. Some will love you. Someone will teach you. But the ones who are truly important are the ones who bring out the best in you. They are rare & amazing people who remind you why it's worth it. 

There was nothing extraordinary in my ordinary lifestyle. TV, sport, story books, art, fashion flower making, home décor always attracted me. As both of my parents were coming from the district Sylhet & we were Muslim conservative family, like all our cousin brothers & sisters I thought I would have a life like my parents & grandparents. As my dad was in the medical profession, he was very busy & my mother, a housewife the toughest lady in her time, busy in her world but she had unconditional love for her children. Some of my friends made comments, will I be an artist or a writer? I used to travel faraway places in my imagination - then may be a traveler. But until now I couldn't figure out what I really turned out to be.   If the plan doesn't work, change plan but never the goal. 

The inquiry (1983) My HSC result wasn't satisfactory, I made an inquiry to recheck my HSC papers to the board of Higher Secondary Education. The controller happened to be   my uncle from father side. His team checked my papers, but no addition or subtraction was made in the mark sheet.  The result remains the same.  A short study break -in 1984  After my HSC - when I was idle for almost a year, I did secretarial course from YWCA & contributed articles which were published in the local English newspaper. I was known as a writer also  I spent time with a bunch of girls in the neighborhood watching Indian movies walking chatting picnicking & had a good socialization in BDi way.  Over thinking kills your happiness Don't do it.                                            

My admission to medical college in 1985 My heart was set for studying medicine following my elder brother’s  foot step, but I didn't know that it was so vast & takes a lifetime to conquer. Using Dhaka address I couldn't make it,  someone told my dad that it would be easier to get a seat if I use my home address - Sylhet, where some seats were reserved only for Sylheti students.  Using my grandfather’s address in Sylhet I changed my address & notarized the affidavit copy by a lawyer. Next year I was admitted to Sylhet medical college. People who do not understand your silence will never understand your words.

Making of a Doctor (from 1985-1995) - my medical education & dad’s health policy side by side I was booked for another 10 years in Sylhet- a place- famous for tea plantation, gas field, rivers runs  from   the hillocks God has mercilessly thrown beauty to that piece of land  in Bangladesh. Maybe I had the blessings from my grandparents, where I could survive in the harshest environment. I was fearless but in a good way. It roughens me, toughen me & molded me to cope up in oddest situations but never exploited by the freedom. True friends say good things behind your back & bad things to your face.

 After getting admission to the medical college on second attempt with a big chaos I was only 18 then.  I came out from home away from the hustle & bustle of the capital city - Dhaka & was seated next to those who were academically one year junior to me.  But not much acceptance by the students who adopted a negative attitude towards me coming from privileged army background. Eve teasing by male classmates, senior/ junior clash, dealing with local Sylhetese, all that made me girls- bound again. Soon I became well known as thick pleated student when I grew my hair from shoulder length to waist length.The  Beautiful me  with white coat with skin whitening cream which made me fair in 1st year my brown complexion became beautiful pink for 10 long years with thick hair combed in a pleat, wore beautiful dresses, my fair skin was with me for 5 years until when I came to USA in 1998, I never found that cream again I became brown again. I was expecting if I could  get fair naturally  -Never waste  your time trying to explain who you are to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. 

Medical campus includes medical college with a library, lecture gallery, auditorium, dissecting hall, lab for practical classes; a big hospital building with medicine/surgery/ gynae wards & their outdoor was busy with local  Sylhet's  all the time; hostels for male & female students, also for nurses & 4th class employees; quarters for doctors & professors, a soccer field, morgue, incineration for hospital waste, nuclear medicine & so on a well equipped medical area. We had 40 female students, rest 100 were male. The medical course was for 5 years & 1 year internship with salary. Students coming from all the corners of BD were basically meritorious with scholarship from education board. I never missed any lecture class practical class or ward during my entire medical study. but studying was the toughest part which I mostly did at home comfort  in Dhaka.  I got a seat in the 3 storied ladies' hostel where I made friends.  Initially I was with a bunch of girls in a big prayer room studied together with our sleeping arrangement bundled up with human bones & big medical books; it was toughest to carry on medical study, going crazy time to time. Later I had a room with 3 other girls. Each of us had beds in four corners with window with a view: a table & a chair, a wooden rack for books & clothes in the suitcase under the bed, a table fan for summer. Washing clothes with powder detergent in a bucket, drinking tube well water (with fear of arsenic poisoning) was daily routine for us. A long veranda  on each floor where students used to hang their washed clothes; dining hall was downstairs, but food was horrible. Riding rickshaw even for a candle or matchstick whenever we were out of electricity but frequent rain in Sylhet was a relief.  I have stopped watching TV & lost all connection with my school friends only one friend  was there who remembered & visited me in the hostel.  We used local transport i.e., rickshaw for our bazaar & food in the town. Rumors are carried by haters, spread by fools, and accepted by idiots.

The dark & big dirty dining hall with same food served at breakfast, lunch & dinner which tasted bad; every day menu was boiled rice, a small bowl of vege & dal with a tiny piece of chicken or goat meat, breakfast item was chapati & vegetables every day. Dining/hostel charges were paid monthly in the college office building & also a bank in a small room crowded with students where I used to deposit my monthly expenses sent by my dad. I cooked Fugi noodles in the electric stove (common for my roommates); had tea- twice a day, ate bread & jelly, sometimes snacking cheese, biscuits, small oranges (cheap in Sylhet) & eggs which we could buy from a man selling inside the hostel building. Bathroom facility was poor, few minutes for shower- time when other girls were queuing for their turn. I used to run for classes from 8 in the morning till 3 in the afternoon, a college cafeteria at break time for tea & singara (maybe); after 7 pm going again classes in the hospital building till 10 pm for 5 days in a week. Listen to your best friends. Sometimes they know you more than you know yourself.  

On weekends I visited four of my aunts (father side) who resided in Sylhet town 15 /20 minutes rickshaw ride; they were very affectionate; I made phone calls to my parents but study tension, classes & exams always made me go back to hostel life. Train services all over Bangladesh improved eventually & people got used to med students travelling alone. When vacation was announced I was the first one hurrying to buy ticket with my bag & baggage, sharing a scooter with another girl, running to catch the train. I could see real Bangladesh alone out of Dhaka city for the first time.  A sense of relief came to me when train was approaching Dhaka - back home again but I never gave up medical study & continued my medical journey to the end. I maintained a double standard life, one in Dhaka with cars at my disposal & my family who were supportive & another was in Sylhet where I was all alone with strange people around me.  Judge me when you are perfect. 

First 2 years Sometimes the best therapy is drinking and talking shits with your besties. We studied Anatomy & Physiology.  Dissecting human body & studying the human organs & bones wasn't easy. Practical classes were long, studied slides under microscopeI spent going to picnics, enjoyed musical stage performances in the auditorium, joined voluntary service- Lions club to know Sylhet better. With girls, we ate biryani & Chinese food outside (first time introduced in Sylhet after my arrival) when hostel life & food was unbearable. Soon girls from the hostel found their boyfriend or got married one after another.  My cousins started their married life at home & abroad. At the end of 2nd year Afghani girl came to Sylhet as a foreign student, when her family was held in Pakistan as a refugee. We became friends. There were other foreign students from Iran, Nepal, west Bengali, Pakistan, Sudan. They went back to their country after finishing the course. A friend is someone who listens to your bullshit, tells you in your face that it's a bullshit & then listens to more of your bullshit.

3rd year- We studied pharmacology (drugs) & Jurisprudence (legal issues). Medical study was easy to me, it was never hard. But forgetfulness & sleepiness bothered me constantly. I needed my peace of mind when there were   loads of study pressure and it was difficult to concentrate studying alone when environment was not suiting me but studying with a partner or group study was much easier. A library in our house with medical books where my dad wrote his book on microbiology, my brother & I used it for our practical works & medical study. Back at medical college, big news was - Afghani girl got married to Pakistani, rented a small flat outside medical campus.  She went under hijab. I hardly saw her after that. I studied with a girl upstairs in the hostel & I crossed 3rd year without difficulty. The greatest gift  you can give someone is your time. Because when you give your time, you’re giving a portion of your life that you will never get back.

4th year We studied pathology & community medicine. The study pressure was enormous with vastness & books got heavier. On long vacations from the college, I could study at the comfort of my home, inviting or going girls' houses. My dad helped me as he was in the same profession, using the army library &  for  studying the histology slides under microscope. Dhaka market was full of newly revised medical books with colorful photos. My dad’s book on Microbiology was widely read by the students. Afghani girl came back to hostel & told her story. She was divorced & her ex-husband went back to Iran. Life wasn’t good with her. He isolated her from hostel-girls & abused her. Her own family moved out to German. We became friends again & studied together. I find her weak & unmindful as her earlier education was inadequate & she was taught in  afghani her native language . We went to hygiene tour, visited diabetic center, cardiac & cholera center in Dhaka, in Chittagong - another district near the sea beach, we visited Leprosy & TB center in Sylhet. I invited the Afghani girl to my house, took her to my relative's places as my sister. For delaying the exam, I studied Pathology at home also using the army library where pathology books were available. I crossed the  4th year. Never be defined by your past. It was just a lesson, not a life sentence. "Don't consider my kindness as my weakness. The beast in me is sleeping, not dead”.

5th year we studied Medicine, Surgery, gynecology. We started going to the wards with white coat & stethoscope for case study & saw patients in the ward & outdoor. We learned to study X ray, the surgical instruments, taking history of the pt, diagnosed the illness, & presenting the case to the examiner was part of 5 the year. I saw various surgery in operation table, childbirths, psychiatric pts, ENT & eye pts.  Watched cataract, tonsillectomy, Pt with Burger disease. Cesareans operation for elderly primi  After Afghani girl came back from her exile home she moved to a small flat with her dad.  Sometimes we dined & wined, sometimes bitching for sake of life, making jokes, laughed at silly  things in life my student life as a med student thing, both spoiled & going crazy with study pressure but we were always good to each other. On the way when  my student life as a med student was about to end, I went to a Christian  based community where there was a nice cozy  bungalow, residing there was a Christian Norwegian mother may be as a guest I had sisters in Holy cross they all behave the same; she hugged me even when we were  complete strangers but when while  growing up in my lonely single life where I was singled out even a  hug was impossible to get but it helped me until now when I look into my past & think- Someone somewhere looked at me as earth’s child not as a fallen victim of circumstances. Life isn’t going any better, but we are getting stronger. 

1990 Andolon, my dad’s health policy was making professors & doctors (holding government job) angry, pointing the way they pour big chunk of money in the bank. But they protested for continuance of private practice. The protest became nationwide. A doctor was killed during the movement. Soon Ershad government collapsed. A new temporary government was formed for a fair election & Khaleda Zia was elected as Prime minister.  Behind every strong, independent woman lies a broken little girl who had to learn how to get back up & to never depend on anyone. 

My brother's wedding & my engagement- I was 5th year student in SOMC & my dad was retiring from army service; from our family source we chose one of my classmates also a 5th year student in CMC - Chittagong medical college for my elder bro; the wedding took place in 1991 & was divorced after few years.  In a short notice in 1994 I was engaged with US doctor & soon cancelled for obvious reason. Later in 1999, I attended by younger brother’s wedding from USA   which also took place in Dhaka. After my internship in PG & lecturer in Anatomy my elder brother & I went to the BMDC registration building in Bejoy Nogar Dhaka but found the office was closed, no one showed up! Life gets a whole more beautiful once you start living for yourself & accept the fact that you can't please everyone.

The dark chapter- years in depression (from 90-'95) God wasn't kind to me, he checked me & tested me; he has given me task after task so I could clear my conscious, all my ancestral sin & finally come out clean. He wanted to see me struggle more than I could bear. I was in a battlefield fighting for my existence, each time when I am fallen, I had to defend myself. I was dealing with odds, which was constantly slapping me, whipping me, bruising me. Local Sylheti's weren't good to me.  My results were briefly held up for political reason.  Sometimes, it was degrading, sometimes - controversial but my good knowledge in English & persistence for achieving the goal made me finish the course, even when I was unmarried & alone. My high-ranking army officer dad couldn't convince the professors to let me work, it's only an MBBS course, right!  As I will be licensed to practice medicine, earn some money, settle my life; but there will be a provision for higher studies. The money which was sectioned on my name after qualifying MBBS which I never received are now enjoyed by people who happens to to my friends are actually my foe? The thing that led me go back to Sylhet again & again was my guilt conscious which was working inside me like a driving force & when I came out, I was standing bold & guilt free but he youth which was taken out from my life ('85-'95) which I will never get back.  I had my family who backed me up during the entire time.   My parents were desperately looking for a groom for me, for fear that I might end up with no marriage & no medical degree. Truth is I didn’t choose to be strong 24/7 but I don’t have the luxury of letting my guard down, because there is no knight in a shining armor to protect me. I have to protect myself; I have to carry the sword and slay my own dragons.

Failure & implementation of health report   (in 1990) The next 5 years, I was detached from the batch where I was seated. Frustrated, spent time & smoked at friend’s house in the neighborhood during the delay.  But at the same time, I had to go back to Sylhet to clear Surgery/Gynae, staying at one of my auntie's houses I got my MBBS degree, which was recognized by British Medical team in 1995. It was very tough repeating the same Ol’ thing without practical experience- requires lot of patience, without my family support it wasn’t be possible.  Whether or not Afghani girl managed to get her MBBS certificate that I don't know but left the country without any supplementary exams. I had no contact with her after that. To the Afghani girl: I hope my words will reach her.  I might have protected her from odd political situations from the beginning she came alone without her husband & gave her a favorable study environment Political chaos started to affect our family life, my dad decided that I (still unmarried) temporarily should refrain from Sylhet medical exams rather study at home. I went to ICDDR, B - international center for almost 5 years, requesting the director to diarrheal pt in the center. I was allowed to see pts, attend classes & seminars with other doctors which was quite fun & interesting. I bought the coupons for the lunch & spent the entire day. While I was there, I collected information about child health from the center's & my knowledge on pediatrics & by looking at current journals which use to get from my father's source & from the center's library. I wrote on child health & masturbation, typed it & brought the papers along with my resume & the application for the job in United nation when I first came to USA In 1998.The same boiling water that softens the potato hardens the egg.

Internship in Dhaka in 1996- It was not in Sylhet but in Dhaka in PG hospital for one year training; during my visits I also had the opportunity to attend complicated neurosurgery by post grad students. My lecturer ship in 1997 for 1 year in Anatomy in   private medical college was also Dhaka.  I was amazed to see a quick response even after I was denied when I posted a letter to Prof Kaufman Professor of Anatomy in Edinburg.  In Aug 1997 when was married, after the emigration paperwork I came to USA in Feb 1998.  This could have been the end of a long tiring story & I could have gotten my MBBS degree with flying colors, escorted by a handsome- soft spoken- husband, boasting with all others   thinking how lucky & blessed I was; now it's time to start a new life, work with a good salary but to my surprise the story took a different turn....  as I tiptoed all my life from the day I came to my senses until I finally came out of the country & found myself as a free woman leaving behind all the clutters which annoyed me all the time.

 My life story is an open book & I kept it like that. I wish my dad's health policy will implement one day where people will be cured & get well. What I went through was a struggle & unnecessary hardship, a girl student shouldn't be treated like that in a highest educational institute where people will be coming for help with the same problem. 

Next 18 year (1998-2018) in USA. I am residing in USA but never worked; after I had my son in Aug 2001, raising him, watching him grow up, educating him was my Job in USA. Florida 1998-2000 for 2 years; in Maryland 2000- 2002 for 2 years; Delaware 2002 - to present year.  Solitude is part of me since childhood & now I became a loner again in USA.

Little secret of mine In 1973 , 50 yrs back after the war of 72 when East Pakistan became Bangladesh, we were sent to camps to some remote places were stranded Bengali families were held for 2 years . We got the flats, some of the got houses but sharing with another family. In big yards we had open school & we used to play with all other kids to pass our times. The weather was extreme hot & extreme cold. Once in a while my father went to the town to bring us some food & toys . Then we moved to another remote place by train  with our luggages. The ride was adventurous , rugged mountains & tunnels . This time we were placed in the army houses sharing with another army family. I made friendship from the next door neighbor - 2 girl friends, with one  I had 2 sexual connections . I was only 7 yrs old (  I kept the secret with me for many yrs until on 26th July 2024 I decided I wrote that in my website for sake of life  ) . Next day we went out walking . I saw her elder brother passing us quickly to  another camp which was  fenced . That day , one of the army family gave us the privilege to watch tv outdoor.On the way we played with kids , we saw some people from India but bangali outside the fence . 3rd day we both went to another army family house , they let us watch a popular TV series Man from UNCLE . Some kids came  but my girlfriend was unusually quiet & left early, but I stayed & watched the rest of the film . When I came out it was dark, walked all the way home from the backside .I  saw crowds of people in front of my friend’s house . I wanted to check what’s going on but couldn’t pass through . I saw big chunk of ice which will fit in the coffin  was in their kitchen side. I came back  to our house & saw my family in the bedroom & my younger brother was sleeping. I was tired, & soon I went to sleep . Next morning I woke up late, went out the usual way I used to brush my teeth but I saw no one next door . I came back  home but my parents were quiet . Later  I heard my girl friend & her family left for the country early in the morning . The day was quite no one spoke . I heard my friends brother was killed in the road traffic accident! We came back to new Bangladesh batch by batch after 6 months by air in Dec 1973.  I was engaged  in my  education , 1981 was my SSC, in 1983 was my  HSC , 1984 - 1 year I waited for legalize my grandfathers asset, next 10 yrs for MBBS (where I was victimized for masterbation issue ) plus 2 yrs  for internship & Anatomy lecturer . In 1997 when I signed the papers with Samir’s dad for marriage, I had similar 2 sexual connections with him before he left for USA . I got busy with emigration going to US embassy & after 6 months in April 1998 I flew to Miami Florida but sad news was my father passed away next year in June 1998 . In 2003 I bought Samir Chowdhury to USA 

One tequila two tequila three tequila

Whiskey is risky but it makes the girls frisky. Don’t be dumb & mix wine & rum. Beer before liquor never been sicker. Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.  A good friend takes away & says “you’ve had enough. But a true friend gives you another drink & yells,” YOU BETTER CHUG THIS CUZ WE AIN’T TRASHED YET !!”    .............. DA   

Beautiful clip arts & some quotable quotes  are collected from internet.

  LUBNA MAHMOOD CHOWDHURY