Illustration: Ashif Ahmed Rudro; Photo: Jannatul Bushra

In the vibrant and ever-evolving neighbourhood of Dhanmondi, where sleek cafés, trendy boutiques, cineplexes, and contemporary high-rises often eclipse tradition, the revival of the bioscope by Muhammad Hiru is a fascinating story!

I often pass by the lakeside roads of Dhanmondi and spot Hiru in different locations with his iconic red-covered bioscope box -- a quaint, hand-cranked film projector closely tied to the early development of visual entertainment.

But as often as I see him, I somehow still fail to recognise him! One day, he's the familiar face by the lakeside, and the next, he's completely transformed, hidden behind a vibrant joker costume, trying to lure in curious onlookers. It's almost as if he becomes a different person altogether, blending into the scene so seamlessly that you wouldn't even realise it's the same Hiru with his red bioscope box. This puzzled me for a while, so I asked him about it.

Turns out, it's all about the heat! On cooler days, he wears that flashy outfit to catch people's attention. But when the temperature starts to rise, Hiru ditches the joker costume. "Too hot to wear that thing," he explained with a grin.

Makes sense. It's hard to entertain a crowd when you're melting in a heavy costume.

Seeing his passion and dedication, I couldn't help but ask him how he came to pursue a career with the bioscope. "I grew up in Bogura, in the far north of our country," he began. "My most vivid memories from childhood are of the village fairs, where the bioscope shows would light up the night. It was there that I first fell in love with the magic of storytelling through that magic box." His words painted a picture of a simpler time. "I crafted my bioscope box entirely on my own, without any master to guide me," he said with quiet pride. "From the moment I first saw one, I just knew -- I would make one someday. And here I am, living that dream."

"But following a dream comes with its own set of consequences," Hiru admits. "The reality of pursuing art in our country is that it rarely provides a sustainable income. I struggle financially every day. I usually stand here after 5PM. Some days, I have a steady stream of customers, but on others -- especially when the weather is harsh -- I hardly get any."

He lingers for a moment, then states, "To make ends meet, I also do decoration work, mostly for small parties. Recently, people have started hiring me to entertain children at birthday parties," he says with a faint smile. "But even that offers little stability in a city like Dhaka. No matter how hard I try, the weight of financial insecurity is always there. Yet, it's my passion for this art that keeps me going."

His eyes sparkle as he speaks of winter and the festive seasons. "There's a special joy in watching children rush toward my bioscope during this time. Their eyes, full of excitement, warm my heart and remind me why I continue this work."

What truly moves me is Hiru's unwavering passion for the bioscope. It feels good to see him there, standing as a slice of tradition amidst all the modernity of Dhanmondi. Even in the sweltering heat, when he might forgo the joker costume, Hiru never abandons his passion or dedication. On those scorching days, you'll find him wearing only a simple, colourful cap -- not as eye-catching, perhaps, but unmistakably Hiru!

Hiru typically sets up after 5:00pm in front of Anam Rangs Plaza at 6/A Satmasjid Road, Dhanmondi.