Where I work
It can be a simple desk – tidy, organised, uninspiring. Or it can be an intricate and complicated affair – paints and brushes everywhere, messy, crowded. What does your workspace look like?
The workstation of a person of course hints at the kind of profession he is in. Workstation of a photographer differs vastly from that of a scientist. Workstation of a 'jhaalmuriwala' differs a lot from the workstation of a painter.
Your workspace tells an awful lot about you, how you are as a person. Do you discover long-lost receipts from time to time? Or are you well-informed about the contents of all your drawers?
This week, Star Lifestyle has entered the workspace of people from different walks in life, from a photographer to the street vendors. Read on, as we unveil interesting workstations of people from various professions.
Work Station Stories
I have always been fascinated by the yellow lights at tea stalls. I can't explain why to you if I tried. There's something about them that seems so romantic almost. You can see all the people huddling around it sipping tea or smoking a cigarette. Step into the light for a moment and you can almost feel the heavy air full of untold stories and secrets.
My favourite time of the month is when I have to go for my haircut. I call my barber and tell him I'm coming. Upon entering I am greeted by the guard a feeble older man who's gotten used to seeing me. The saloon is one big room usually occupied by a sullen kid forced to get a haircut by his dad. Each table comes equipped with sprays, combs of different kinds, different greasy bottles of oil and a giant hand mirror. The style does not need to be mentioned, he knows what to do and we spend the haircut sometimes in silence and sometimes with long conversations about cell phones or his life. He started out his job when he was 12, coming to Dhaka and sweeping the floors of salons. He would watch the haircuts out of the corner of his eye memorising the movements and the techniques. Before long he landed a good job and got settled. And the rest he says is history.
On the way back from a haircut I stop by a mudi dokan and ask for a cup of tea. Black or milk it doesn't matter I just like sitting on the wooden bench and enjoying a moment of silence. The owner is an older man, almost always chewing on beetle leaf and talking with his mouth full of red juice. His hands shake while giving me the cup and he spends an eternity counting the change. But when he prepares a nice paan for five people at once he is timeless and masterful. He is almost on autopilot. Empty cans of chamanbahaar are now used for chun with long ice creams sticks or spoons sticking out. A steaming teapot with black stains is roasting on a gas stove and a small television is on the far corner. He has a Bengali cinema playing 24/7. To watch it properly though, you have to sit down because the packets of bread and cake dangle by threads attached to the ceiling.
As I get back on my bike I notice that all hell is about to break loose. It's exactly 2pm. That means the kids are getting out of school and their fussy mums are blocking the roads insisting the driver opens her kids door and puts the backpack in the trunk. Perhaps it's the romantic writer inside of me but I enjoy watching students get out of school. The ice cream, jhaalmuri and fuchka vendors crowd around the school entrance counting down the seconds to the bell. The kids get down and rush to the stalls. Their faces of glee can only be matched by the vendors. This is both their happy hour. Like the tea stall vendor, the jhaalmuriwallah's hands move at lightning speed to keep up with the demands of the hundreds of hungry kids. They are the Bengali equivalent of bartenders; shaking the tin glasses and splashing the chilli on newspaper packets. This particular guy is famous all over the neighborhood. His hands are pure magic and his jhaalmuri is highly sought after. The fuchkawallah who is for once not the centre of attention gives him a couple of disgruntled looks. But nevertheless there is always traffic. Imagine breaking those shells at a rate of two per second. We'd undoubtedly mess it up. Not this man though. He has this down to the letter. He hands everyone a plate full of perfectly broken shells and pours the tamarind juice into a plastic cup of what was previously vanilla ice cream. When the traffic ends, both vendors don't even wait a minute to take a breather. They immediately start refilling their empty supplies. They take out fresh eggs and chilli cutting them meticulously at a very impressive speed. Next they take out packets of shells and chanachur and pour them into tins. These are all kept at an arm's length for quick use.
I cycle back home with a smile on my face. Till next month for sure. I'm not giving you that "think of all the poor people who work so hard" shtick. This is more of an awe inspiring phenomenon rarely seen in developed countries. These men and women are such thorough professionals with a workspace out there for all to see. And it only requires a cup of tea to uncover the stories they hide behind dirty rags and dim fluttering yellow lights.
By Daneesha Khan
Photo: Sazzad Ibne Sayed
A writer's DEN
Anisul Haque is undoubtedly one of the most beloved writers of our time. With his superb novel on the liberation war, Maa, alongside many other stories, he has become a household name. Other than being a novelist, he is also a script writer and a journalist.
It is from his home-office from where such great novels and publications are churned out. However, his office is not like other offices. It is more like a reading room.
Tall bookshelves rise from the floor. There are books here and there. Paintings, artworks and sketches hang on the wall.
Perhaps the best word to describe the room is 'compact'. The area is rather small – even congested to a certain extent. And although there is a veranda on one side, the view you will get is that of the veranda of the next building. Even the table where he has his laptop on is quite a small one, with little space left for anything else other.
Hidden among the books and notes, Anisul Haque types away for hours and hours. "My writing experience is somewhat similar to that of sleepwalking. I enter into a trance," Anisul Haque said.
This just shows the level of concentration any creative work demands. "Talent is not everything. Hard work, patience and focus and concentration on your work are vital. This is true for writers as it is true for cricketers, as it is for in other professions," he explained.
Meanwhile, innumerable cups of tea help him power through. The relevant books for his current write-ups lie around him, making an utter mess. "I often forget where I keep what," the writer admits. "Since I lose books – or rather, don't find them when I need them – I buy them again. Therefore, my bookshelf has more than one copy of some of the books."
What would his workstation look like if he was born a few decades ago? Instead of the laptop, there would be a typewriter and the space would rattle with the sound of the writer typing. Travel back in time even further, and we would see Anisul Haque noiselessly scribbling away with a quill! It's obvious how technology has contributed to the workstation of many professions, but nevertheless the evolution is astounding.
There is nothing overly exciting about his workstation. A writer, after all, does not need much except his books, notes, papers and computer. He does not require a critical setup – like people from many professions do, such as a painter or a scientist or even a goldsmith.
No, for the writer, the drama is in his head. How successfully he translates that to paper is what that matters!
By M H Haider
Photo: Sazzad Ibne Sayed
Snapshot!
A black themed den that represents power, elegance and mystery; his studio is a reflection of himself. Chanchal Mahmud's lens has captured the first generation photographs of many of the former leading actors, actresses and models and is still continuing to reveal images of perfection of the glamour world.
A mentor, a guide and a trend-setter, he is one of the pioneers of uplifting modeling snapshots in our country. And so what has been a treat to observe was his studio that stands as an example of what a perfect studio should be like.
Any photographer can have a room and call it a studio, but a studio with a soul of its own is what belongs to CM's. As you enter, you are received by the warmth of his smiling face, and with the very first step that you take, you can see the words, "photography is a silent music", and that is just a hint to prepare you for what you are about to see when you step in.
A gigantic sound system covers a great part of the room, and it is one of the must-haves when you design your studio. His passion is not only reflected through music, but also painting, which is displayed with his first box of colours and paint brushes. He also preserved other memories like his majestic first camera that sits at his office and inspires him.
Mahmud's versatile interests take up every inch of the studio, giving it the warmth of a home instead of a workplace. You can also get the taste of patriotism as he flaunts the national flag. His equipments are all the latest since often he has been the one to introduce new techniques in our country.
"Not everything latest is the best. Sometimes you have to choose the one which is more qualitative instead of trendy". His diverse range of backgrounds was first brought from Japan, and he still owns a huge collection. The many soft lights, umbrellas and spotlights give the right exposure and enables the camera to capture the exact texture in the right hue.
Not only did he successfully bring people to the limelight and made them shine, but he also brought forward pictures which helped in community development and portrayed our country to the international NGOs and media. He believes that photography plays a significant part in the development of a society as you get to represent the true scenario which is difficult to picture for the masses.
According to Chanchal Mahmud his confidence lies in his aesthetic sense through his hands. His third eye enables him to find the right aura and click in the right angle.
By Sonya Soheli
Photo: Sazzad Ibne Sayed
An Artistic Mind Doesn't Always Work in a Mess
Walking up to the main door of Saidul Haque Juisse's home, I could smell the paint and mixture of oil in the air. Upon entering, I realised I needed to leave my preconceived idea of an artist's studio outside because I was about to be proven wrong.
Popularly known for mask-making, Juisse's primary interest still is painting. He believes in exploring different media and engages in incorporating two or more combinations, which many deem unconventional.
His studio is within his house, and to my surprise, is just as neat and tidy as the rest of it. This is a personal preference of Juisse as it allows him to work late into the night and gives him the added advantage of avoiding the horrendous traffic of Dhaka city.
Most of his time is spent in his studio. Juisse has arranged for several tables so that he can move from one place to another, working simultaneously on a few things. When he works, he likes to listen to subtle Bangla music in the background. While taking a break from work, he sometimes brings in a book from his collection, sits among his art work in progress and reads it.
Juisse's studio is practical. Wall cabinets are put all around to store his art supplies. Tables by the windows display sculptures made by him and also hold the sketch books that Juisse maintains for personal drawings that are close to his heart.
One table sits in the middle of the room which will deceive you at first glance. What appears to be compact has the ability to be home to Juisse's essentials. It is specially designed and contains about six drawers both on the front and the back, with extendable counter tops on either side.
The drawers consist of water, poster and acrylic colours, as well as mask making papers, glues and other accessories. Because of its unique design, some architecture students sometimes come over to study this.
Juisse cleans up after his work himself. He insists that even though the counter tops look spotless, if someone else tried searching for one particular thing, they would get lost in the millions of elements that live in these drawers and cabinets.
Juisse believes he got lucky because there are no high-rise buildings around that can block out the natural light from entering his studio. This keeps his mind calm and helps him focus. He also takes a great interest in gardening and has a commendable collection of plants which he has maintained over many years.
Just a few steps from the studio will bring you to the rooftop. Here, you can so easily lose yourself among the greenery. Juisse says he doesn't ever need to go very far to look for inspiration.
Working and living in a beautiful mess is what you expect of artists. Juisse, obviously, is an exception. You will feel like going back there over and over again because visiting once cannot be enough.
By Maaesha Nuzhat Nazmul
Photo: Sazzad Ibne Sayed
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