Unmarked Graves Where Flowers Grow

Yesterday was International Mother Language Day. It's a National holiday in Bangladesh, a day when we remember the death of the "language martyrs" and celebrate the Bengali language. In the weeks leading up to the day there is a book fair during which many publishers launch their newest books.





Last year on the 21st Annabel and I joined the hordes of people who pay their respects at the language memorial. The line to file past went clear down the street. We pulled out our foreigner credentials and walked in the "out" door. The policemen smiled at us, and let us up on the steps to see the pretty flower creations a little better.
Having celebrated the Ekushay properly last year, this year I went out to watch the holiday makers promenade in the local streets, parks and coffee shops. I love to see them dressed in their newest saris- starchy new cottons, drapes of silk, beaded and sequined georgette. My adolescents tell me "promenading with my husband" is one of the most compelling reasons to get married.