Here, I never feel at home

Faria Rashid | Published: 16:30, Nov 17,2020


— Asifur Rahman

Dhaka — a city that never made me feel home — neither as a little girl nor as a full-grown woman.

It’s dangerously unsafe, where I can never freely roam.

Not only for the muggers but also for the strange gazes.

Dhaka is a compact concrete jungle that constantly suffocates me, makes me yearn to go find a space to breathe.

The energy here is so toxic, going inside is your only refuge.

It’s a place where my senses are overloaded — not only with the noise, the traffic, the pollution, the beggars, the hawkers — proudly occupying the sidewalks, the uncomfortable lighting, the overcrowded spaces, the unplanned urbanisation, the piles of overflowing dirt, the stray dogs, the honking of the vehicles;

but also, with the indiscipline, the crime, the corruption, cruelty, violence, intensity and the ruthless people.

Dhaka makes me feel fernweh — the self in me that wants to feel appreciated, rather feels criticised.

Dhaka will never let you hide to find yourself or to find solace.

It's a space that I have outgrown, certainly not where I belong.

Too much is happening, but I am still not growing.

The feeling of disassociation is always there.

It’s not the home where you find your tribe.

In Dhaka, I am alone. I go alone. I do it alone.

I want to go for a long walk home.

Faria Rashid is a development activist focusing on women’s rights, gender equity, refugee rights and communications. She is a free-spirited, fierce and flamboyant soul. Faria is a solo traveller wandering and wondering in this amusing planet.

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