The Trip of a Lifetime: 100 Member Youth Delegation

We had to fly to Kolkata at dawn, so early that most of us arrived at the airport with eyes half-shut. By the time we reached, had lunch and settled into our hotel rooms, it was already late afternoon. Sarzina, my roommate, by then, had fallen quite ill suffering from a stuffy nose and coughs so she decided to rest. As Sarzina lay down to nap, I walked about the room and looked out the window. There she was- Kolkata. There was something familiar about her and her ways. It was like being home before going home.

Considering everyone's exhaustion, we took the rest of the day off. And by day off, I mean we shopped. After Sarzina awoke, we got together with the rest of the 'addabaaj' gang that consisted of Banglavision journalist S M Tanbir Alam, team leader Mohiuddin Fayaz, Ariq Anam Khan, channel 24 sports journalist Sadman Sakeeb, co-ordinator Kallyan Kanti Das, Sarzina and I. Minus Ariq, the rest of us set out on the streets of Kolkata to get the shopping done. New Market was where it began, and New Market was where it ended. Ranging from saris, to jewellery, to sportswear, luggage and more- everything was right there. The haggling was immense and unimaginable, almost miraculous in some instances. Once I was done, while everyone continued to look for the perfect shade of something, I looked for the perfect Golgappa stand. 

View from our hotel room in Kolkata. Photo: Internet

It went on until it was time for the shops to shut down. A five minute walk from there, we headed back to our hotel! After all the shopping and dinner, we rushed to each others' rooms to show what we all had bought. Anik's sherwani for his brother's wedding, the watch I bought for my father, Sarzina and her fascination for kurtis- we shared all of it with each other like best friends after a dose of retail therapy. We ended the night with our final 'adda' reminiscing about the best memories we had made with each other throughout the trip. Our team leader's incessant whistle-blowing topped the list of what we would miss the most. There were jokes about how the whistle should be encased and put in a museum. Laughter and gossip was followed by resting ourselves for our final day in India. 

After visiting the historic grounds at the Eden Gardens where all the greatest cricketers ever have played, and then breathing in the cooling air of the River Ganges, there was only one site left for us to visit on the last day- Jorsanko Thakurbari- the home of Rabindranath Tagore. As we walked down the ally leading towards the establishment, after passing under the archway that had the name beautifully inscribed, the very air smelled like history. We stepped onto the premise- barefoot- and instantly heard the tunes of Rabindranath play in every room. Being a dancer, I went into a state of solitary absorption. I walked down the halls, explored the rooms, not knowing that I was already swaying and breaking into mudras as I did so. Soon, there was a small crowd of people watching me as I stared at the Esraj in Rabi Thakur's collection of instruments and kept dancing unknowingly. I swayed from room to room until I paused in the very room where Kabi Guru passed away. It was cold and the air hung a little heavier. I stared at the fire placed in his memory for a while, and then turned left to see the poem 'Parting Words' formed on a wall. Upon finishing, I took a deep breath and felt a tear or two roll down my cheek. 

The historic cricketing grounds of Eden Gardens.Photo: Internet

I solemnly walked downstairs to the big backyard with a cement stage. You could instantly imagine the kind of gracious evenings that were once spent here- with melodies, rhythms, and poetic words. 

All too soon, we headed back to our hotel for last minute packing before we flew back to our homeland. The whole ordeal- assembling at the lobby, the bus ride to the airport, the plane journey back home- was spent in sombre silence. We didn't know what to say to each other. That we would miss everyone and every minute we spent with each other over the past week was a given. What next? 

At the airport, the joy of being back was overpowered by the sadness of leaving one another. "No more early morning wake-up calls," one said. "No more hearing you sing in the shower," said another. We parted with tears and 'we will see each other again', somehow knowing that the daily grind of life back home would slim the chances. Heartbreak was everywhere and it was palpable. 100 Members, of 100 kinds, from 100 different backgrounds, doing 100 different things-- a melting pot of talents ranging from dancers, to singers, doctors, engineers, sportsmen, RJs, actors and everything you can think of, each having become all too familiar.

Since I came back, I have done dance shows, become a dance director for a cinema, been awarded employee of the year. RJ Sarzina has been promoted to Station Manager at Radio Foorti, Ariq has left for his Master's at the London Film School, Anik has been playing exceptional cricket, league after league, Saad and his team have become local footballing champions, and everyone else has become busy achieving the best of life. But every now and then, a simple hello from one of us to the other hits us with a pang of nostalgia of eight unforgettable days, of how we had the opportunity to build up a historic friendship between two great nations, of how we represented our motherland, of jokes, of laughter and of love. We can only hope and pray to give back what we have gotten, to carry on the legacy of being one of the cherished members of Bangladesh's 100 Member Youth Delegation 2016, a life-changing experience.