Thoughts of an expatriate

I am now in the Leddy Library, one of the two libraries in University of Windsor. It is my regular habit to read all the national newspapers of Bangladesh from their internet editions. Technology is one of the best friends of human kind. I am listening Moushumi Bhowmik's "Jessore Road" from thousands of miles away . And I am thinking about the canal beside our house. I am thinking about my first love...Bangladesh.

I was wondering why I am doing this. As an obedient son, soon I will be giving up my Bangladeshi passport and will become a proud Canadian. My national anthem will be "O Canada". I will be known as official minority in multicultural Canada. My house will be in Richmond Hill, my children will call me dad, and I will not go with my son to Eidgah, as I used to go with my father. My Children will never know about "Pahela Boishakh".

I was conjecturing at the end of the day why my dreams all are around Bangladesh? Why I dream that I can make some differences, while I know I will not be allowed to return. I am very much disappointed with my prejudices with Canada and decided to stop dreaming about Bangladesh. Henceforth I will be thinking myself as a forthcoming Canadian who will be one of the residents of Richmond Hill. I will not think anymore about health and education systems of Bangladesh. I will refrain myself from searching the word "Bangladesh" from the political science books. I will not reciprocate Bangladesh when I will read my development studies books; instead I will be eagerly bluffing myself with the notion of divulging my education with Canadian inclining economy. Definitely I will be a happy man. In fact one of the happiest persons in the world, as I will kill my inner voice pretty soon. And certainly I will kill the love for Bangladesh, for which my father fought at the age of 19.