These days, I have become too absorbed with prominent personalities, politicians and overwhelming sensational news events at home and abroad. There is barely any time left to think about the people around me and how profoundly I am depended on them, so when my servant boy Nizam had suddenly asked for an impromptu leave for a week right on the afternoon of Eid Day, this writer didn't hesitate to grant it.
Within a couple of hours his absence was felt, by 8 in the evening none was there to help me to entertain relatives and friends. By next morning my unwashed clothes had piled up as high as the Mount K2, the two waste keeping baskets were filled, my three massive rooms became dusty, and none would be there to serve lunch and dinner in the table as per my peculiar meal timings (I am a two timer eater and have learnt to skip breakfast since early last year). Moreover, there will be none to run to the nearby store, refill my mobile phone and give me regular updates on the scandals and gossips occurring within the confines of my vicinity. I will have to be completely reliant on my maid servant for nearly a week before Nizam makes his heroic return from village.
Sensing my helplessness to the extreme, my night guard (Most often found in deep sleep during every night) extended his generous hand and I was compelled to take his support with a bitter pinch of salt. Apart from reliability, trust was also a factor made Nizam even more important. In terms of availing his services , sorry to say, my servant boy felt like more important to me than having a prime minister to run Bangladesh during that short spell of one week.
Simultaneously, the night guard of my house has massive importance too, though on dubious grounds. The Night Guard, Nurul Amin's specialty is that despite being in his late fifties he is more fit than Nizam.
The word "Impossible" is non-existent in his vocabulary. He is the most preferred member of staff among all our seven tenants. His stock-in-trade is to make a quick buck within the quickest time from any one including the devil. Displaying a thick white beard and an amiable deceptive smile, he neatly fakes a religious look, prays but never fasts, smokes at least half a pack cigarettes more than his boss, and known to all within my locality. The energetic man's physique is that of a whipcord.
And he always seems to be busy with or without a reason. Nothing misses his pair of hawkish eyes and therefore, he is the human cc camera of Mohsin Villa. And that's not all--coupled with being a pure opportunist he is a minor contractor for brokering all repair jobs. No matter how much he earns need never leaves him. He is indispensible as he gets almost any job done.
Nurul Amin's exact opposite is our bulky maid servant Salma, her absence or illness means my gastronomic needs will likely remain unaddressed. Keeping her on the move means relentlessly pushing a mountain. Trained by the expert hands of my grandmother, she is the one who knows not only what I like to eat but also what my friends do. She cooks quite a phenomenal Khichdi and a beef curry admired by many. Though staying a floor below, she never climb the stairs but calls me at least twice to enquire what I wish to gobble down. Furthermore, my culinary cost shoots up when she is absent and I badly miss out on her regular missed calls.
So far these were the few simple people around me at home. Let's shift the focus to my office. The list lengthens with Sohrab the tea seller, located barely 50 feet in the left direction to my office. No less than, five Daily Observer journalists are heavily dependent on his tea. For us tea break also means a cigarette break and smoking commences after consuming his tea. Not that Sohrab is the eminent tea brewer in Dhaka but he knows the exact five types of tea for the five journalists. Sohrab's most important client is our Senior Sub-Editor Maksud bhai, he practically struggles to find the closest brew of strong Marxist--tea on every Friday since Sohrab is closed on that day.
What I envy the most of the, happy-go-lucky tea seller is that he is his boss. He loves to cater the need for many in line with his consumers' unusual choices, and he rarely makes a mistake on that note. Sohrab has some 23 regular clients and they have been loyal to him. Yet, there is a problem with Sohrab. Since he is his boss, he opens and closes his stall whenever desired, and we ultimately become the victims of his unanticipated impulses. Unlike the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the bachelor Sohrab will never become the Bangladesh prime minister as he loathes politics.
Next to Sohrab is the hard- to-avoid Pitha and Beguni hut, our art & culture editor, aka the entertainment editor's much-loved eatery. Almost on any given day the gigantic fry pans are busy frying all types of local fried delicacies. The sellers know all the consumers by their faces. This takeaway eatery gives ample opportunity to pick, eat and runaway, though hardly anyone runs away. However, our entertainment editor smells and remembers the spirit of our struggle for freedom while gobbling down sumptuous freshly fried Begunis from here--queer sense of patriotism indeed. Just about 20 feet right on the opposite of Sohrab's tea stand is our regular fruit barrow run by Jewel and Jalal brothers (Not real name). The barrow's absence means: the editorial chief and the senior-sub-editor of The Daily Observer will have to spend a 'fruitless night'. We are the duo's regular customers for their low-priced good quality seasonal fruits. The seller's particular specialities are mangoes and pomegranate and whatever the season allow them to sell. The seller is directly responsible for boosting our health as well as libido.
Within the confines of our workplace, office staffs also play a decisive role in shaping and influencing our moods and performance at office. Tuhin, Anwar, Jashim, Lakxmi and the others defines our comfort zones at office. Their respective senses of humour and endless curiosity about our private lives and the office fascinate me. Tuhin is also our primary source of undisclosed office information.
The bottom-line: The simple people around us shaping our daily lives deserve appreciation the most but how appreciative are we? Don't we frequently make them run the extra mile to make our lives unproblematic? How many times have they complained to our demanding nature?
Bosses not need to worry--this piece is not intended for raising these simple peoples' salaries, promote and recommend them to better ranks , giving them priority ; it's not about highlighting them so to understand who are the ones' neglected around us. It's about acknowledging the humane value of these ordinary lives, letting them know how important they are in our lives. Our short-lived lives experience many ordinary people around us and their collective contribution occupies a large part of our living experiences in this world.
Oh! Those simple people around us, we just take them for granted, actually they are godsend. We repeatedly fail to see the god in them.
The writer is editor-in-charge, the Daily Observer
