Old Dhaka - a surrealistic melting pot

Old Dhaka is one of the most fascinating, incomprehensible and surreal places I have ever been to.  

Recently, I was fortunate enough to join a guided walk through the narrow alleys with Urban Study Group which is a group of enthusiastic young people with respect for the past and hope for the future. They do a wonderful job and I really pray for that their dreams of restoring the run-down historic buildings could become true one day.

Old Dhaka might have had a glorious past but its present shape is rather shabby. 

We toured the streets and sailed the river early on a Friday morning. It was really "quiet", especially after shab-e-barat, when muslims pray all night. There were a lot of tired and sleeping people in the mosques, streets and shops.

A bright young student became my personal guide. He has lived all his 23 years in old Dhaka and knows every corner of the for me totally illogical and crazy part of Dhaka. Nothing is functional but everything works - either you live in a soap factory or in the ruins of an old mansion. 

If Old Dhaka is the worn out heart of the capital, the river Buriganga represents the extremely dirty veins of the city. Buriganga is a water highway filled with river rickshaws, small boats, big boats, total chaos. 

The traffic rules are the same as in the streets: size matters, no respect. 

The water is extremely polluted but still people do their laundry in the in river, it is their shower.  As a transport way it has a huge economic impact.

Economic success hits very few,  this boy for example  "joins" social media by biting a phone line. 

Dhaka with a backbend

Have you ever had a feeling that your inner organs are in your throat? 

Recently, my milt has visited my breast, my kidneys are just under my armpits. Or this is how it feels when you twist and twist,  stretch and strecth at a yoga class.  

Due to security reasons, there is not much to do for foreigners in Dhaka.

Sad, since Dhaka is a 24/7 or rather 46/7 society. This city never rests.
I can be hard to believe but sometimes I feel that New York is a sleepy village compared with the hysteric, jammed, overpopulated, absurd life in Dhaka.
Actually, Dhaka really should take a collective deep breath in and out to relax and calm out.  

Thus, living in a never-ending home arrest, any activity is welcomed and applauded. 

Yoga is one of them. For some reason Dhaka is blessed with numerous wonderful, encouraging and professional teachers. 

It is important to add that Dhaka has no fancy yoga studios, rather some hot windowless bunkers with hoards of mosquitoes in strictly guarded foreigners' clubs.
 

I have done some yoga previously, mainly to strengthen a bad back but in Dhaka yoga has totally taken over. 

Yoga in the morning, in the evening, during the weekend. 

Luckily very few of the yoga rooms have mirrors, so the "perfect" moves and postures are only in my mind, not reality. 

The practice is good for the body and the soul but it is even more important to have something to do, be a part of a society when you are far away from your loved ones. A chat with your mat neighbor or a nice cup of tea after the exercise makes your day.
 

There are many people I would hardly recognize in office outfit though I know that they tend to clip their toe nails on Sundays, sweat garlic on Tuesdays and yawn a lot on Mondays. 

The phone shots have nothing to do with yoga. Still, after two years, the street scenes here are exotic.

Namaste!