English or Bangla

Yesterday as I was walking in the park, I saw an artist sitting on the grass and painting the scenery. What got my attention was the man that was jovially looking at the painting; at first I didn’t recognize him, he had a beard almost up to his chest. As he was walking by looking at the side of his face, and the way he walked I finally did figure out who he was. A shadow of the person of what he used to be in school, he was a senior from my school, the brother of my classmate.

It was my parents, specifically my erratic mother who decided to put us in a private school, commonly known here as ‘english medium’. It’s a school where the liberals go, they pay exorbitant fees just to get a education from the British empire, taught in english using British curriculum, commercializing education. One school I went to, was one of the worst, all the spoiled brats were there. I was in a environment, where most children had several cars, and had loads of cash in their pocket, I didn’t.

As I was reminded of the guy in school, he and his family were the elite of our country. His great grandfather was a very important religious figure, he was a imam, and responsible for establishing mosques and religion. He became very wealthy through his connection as a religious figure, and passed it down in his family. As my classmate had different cars, coming to pick him up, I saw his father, who was a very powerful person. A tycoon, the industry head of all the giant corporations, which reminded me of Trump ! He was also involved in establishing sports ‘cricket’ in our nation, he was involved in politics and wanted to run for office.

He met plenty of mega sports stars and celebrities, athletes that most people in the world know, came over to his house, he became instantly famous. Everyone knew he was wealthy, son of a powerful magnate, but having world class athletes sent him to the stars. His brother was the ‘player’, the one who used his ‘status’ to get any women he wants. I used to see all the schoolteachers, women, and girls gush all over him after school, there were literally half a dozen girls surrounding him every time he was talking. My classmate was more grounded than his brother, wasn’t interested in bedding girls, but the fame had taken hold of him. He started asking, why I don’t have a car, why do I live in that part of town. He later became arrogant, didn’t want to deal with me, started bedding girls, and hanging out at clubs.

His brother was the ‘player’, the one who used his ‘status’ to get any women he wants.

The ‘famous’ fellow in school, now had an enormous beard, who bedded most of the women he ever met in his life. He became very pious, because as I later learned his father passed away, with his passing was most of the fame, glamor and wealth. My classmate also became a devout person, I learned he was involved with providing the security technology for our country’s central bank, and no wonder it had one of the biggest cyber bank heist. They have tasted enormous power, and they will never give it up, it’s difficult to explain to ordinary people the addiction to power, the length people would go to hold on to it.

They have tasted enormous power, and they will never give it up, it’s difficult to explain to ordinary people the addiction to power, the length people would go to hold on to it.

I started to question why I was going to a school, where most kids had sports cars, hanging out at clubs, meeting celebrities. It was my bizarre mother, who wanted to hold on to the ‘social status’, of sending her kids to private school. As I was thinking about my past, I wonder how things would have been if I had just gone to the local school, ‘bangla medium’. A walking distance from my house, with large fields, affordable tuition, students who are humble, don’t bother about the wealth of their peers.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s