The Making of a Dream

There is a school of thought that teen dreams are mere fantasies. They are meant to remain unfulfilled as products of immature influences. However, when some teenagers in their unique ways saw identical dreams almost three years ago, that social belief very much pervaded their visions. This is probably why, three years later, in spite of the obstacles, against all predictions; their dream has come true.

That dream is called 1° Initiative.

The Beginning of a Beginning
The August of 2006 was a memorable one. My friend, Tushmit approached me with an idea of opening up a youth network; a concept forwarded to her by a common friend, Farhana. The plan was to allow young people to express their ideas and take up leadership roles in society. Seeing this to be a marvelous opportunity to create something, I jumped to the idea. Later, I contacted another friend, Zubair who was interested in similar things and in a few days, we became a small force of nine people.

Farhana, Zubair and I decided to act as heads and give this ‘plan’ a shape. The shape, of course, needed a name and on a sunny day while lazing inside an empty classroom in Mastermind, the team brainstormed and 1° Initiative was born. The idea behind it was simple. By each degree, we would change the way we contribute to our communities and eventually, create a small body of youngsters who wanted to act along the same line.

A few sleepless nights and Zubair had designed our logo while I had our MOU (fashionably termed ‘Constitution’) and WordPress blog. We signed, grinned and were excited to take on the world.

That was the beginning of all problems and all solutions.

We’re Not Kids!
The difficulties of being a more informed teenager than your peers are numerous. Firstly, you’re funny. You’re one of those people who don’t approve littering, finds something to do almost everywhere and has a tendency to give bombastic speeches on noble doings of not-so-noble persona. Secondly, you’re not taken seriously. You’re a hormone-imbrued teenager, unprepared for the wild reality that infatuates adulthood and your dreams are pointless.

We were of the kind, labeled funny and given little importance. Therefore, the transformation from thinking of doing something and actually executing it was itself a hurdle. Our first big break came with Autism Welfare Foundation (AWF). Volunteers from 1° Initiative were to spend certain hours weekly with autistic children at the foundation, and on a personal note, I believe it was the project that really changed what 1° Initiative was all about.

Autism was not a walk in the park. The children had demands and the volunteers needed to be patient. Having their own niches and shortcomings, autistic children were difficult to become friends with, but incredibly wonderful friends once you’ve managed to inch into their lives. For us, who were doing something of this sort as our first task, it clearly was an incomparable lesson. We learnt patience, realized exactly where we needed to start and began to value the gifts of life. Working with AWF not only taught us to be more understanding as people, but also made the group realize which of us were meant to stick with 1° Initiative.

Thus, although our force became dramatically smaller with fewer members, we shared that common belief that every miniscule difference counts. In the end, 1° Initiative (1dI) became a group of eight people, namely Zubair, Tushmit, Amreen, Mayeesha, Aaqib, Niloy, Rasha and I.

No Mum, I’m Not Doing Durgs!
With the notion of small-scale community service, 1° Initiative began to grow very tardily. Breaks were rare and our enthusiasm was often dampened with exams and life’s temptations. Nonetheless, in collaboration with Mastermind Community Service Club, we soon started teaching their supporting staff basic English and Maths. It was a three-month long project, a duration in which we faced many hassles. From being falsely accused of stealing ideas to being underestimated to the point of not allowing us to work, 1dI was in chaos with the world. Many started mocking us with pinching remarks on whether we were about to alleviate poverty or stop floods, and taunted about our futile efforts. Peers came up to us asking for certificates as a precondition to their dedication. Yet, we glued onto what we believed and it was probably because we did, we pulled through every slag.

I still remember our first meeting. A tin-shed house next to Tushmit’s ‘real’ house, deserted and dusty to the throat. We unlocked the doors, cleaned the floors, coughed our way to set up a decent space and it soon became our own little office. And no, our parents weren’t exactly fully supportive of our cause. Community service required time and dedication, and we only had bucketfuls of the latter. The uncountable times we pretended to shop in Etcetra and gathered under their stairs to have a meeting, counted our funds and realized there was nothing and begged our parents to let us do something still lingers in our memories. We were cooped up in a small room and it was no common surprise that suspicions arose. No, we weren’t doing drugs! No, I don’t have my boyfriend in there! No, we’re not making bombs! The doubts kept mounting up and every time, we had to crawl our ways out of our houses to work.

With no one to fund us and no other financial backing from parents or any other organization or insitution, 1dI needed to be largely self-funded. Why should anyone trust us enough to shower their earthly greens? We were ‘children’, after all. So, each member had to contribute a certain amount of money every month and in this way, our funds began to grow. We started introducing projects that would allow us to ‘make money’ because charity had its own fair share of expenses. Friends started supporting us and stepped up to give a helping hand to our ventures. We began receiving mails from people all over the world, appreciating our initiative. A friend even wrote an article in this very magazine and responses poured in.

Things were finally beginning to roll.

Dreams Were On Wheels
Did you know 1° Initiative has its own rickshaw? Zubair and Asif bought the paints, my driver found the maker and I did the rickshaw art. It was for a guy whose rickshaw got stolen and he seemed like a decent chap who deserved help. The 1dI rickshaw was co-sponsored by Nazim Farhan Chowdhury from Adcomm Ltd and advertised by our friends from Mastermind. It was a piece of beauty for us and today, in some dusty street of Dhaka, it trundles happily carrying our name and our email address!

Now, since three years of its birth, 1dI has expanded beyond our imagination. From the small tin-shed house and staircases at shopping malls, we now have our meeting inside our houses because our parents have finally accepted us. We’ve worked with underprivileged children in different schools and share a very special bond with each of them. We’ve arranged series of quiz and art competitions for them, set up libraries at their schools with books we collected from our contacts and spent hours telling them about the glorious past of Bangladesh. Yes, we even found sponsors! The funny part is people from abroad are more willing to send us money because they believed we aren’t corrupt and we provide proof of its usage. Setting up tubewells and giving away sweaters to children (in collaboration with Drishtipat Canada), donating warm clothes in winter to rural regions (in collaboration with Chhinnamukul), cleaning up streets in Dhanmondi, promoting zero drug abuse, anti-littering campaigns and hosting Leadership Training Workshops in Jessore; 1° Initiative has accomplished an enormous lot. We now have our own T-shirts, a vibrant website, an awesome newsletter and most importantly, a dedicated pool of youngsters who are part of the family.

1° Initiative is now a brand. This statement is proven by the number of teens who now want to join our force and the emails we receive. We’re expanding to Nepal because people from Kathmandu believe in our initiative. It has been an overwhelming experience for me to head this dream since its birth and witness it growing wings. The time, effort, arguments and dedication have all proved their virtues and to this day, 1dI rolls in full swing. There is a long list of people to thank who have placed their faith in us, and this article does not provide me with enough space to do so (scroll down for list). You all know who you are and we will always be grateful to you. Thank you for being a 1° change in this world.

Visit the Official 1° Initiative Website for more information, or mail us at 1d.initiative@gmail.com.

By Sabhanaz Rashid Diya

—

1° Initiative thanks:

• Hossain M. Elius, North South University
• Daniel Rahman, Radio Foorti
• Nazim Farhan Choudhury, Adcomm
• Zaid Islam, Photographer
• Dr. Rownak Hafiz, Autism Welfare Foundation
• Nusrat Khandker, Bangladesh Medical College & Hospital
• Kashfia Habib, Bangladesh Medical College & Hospital
• Md. Mohituzzaman, London School of Economics
• Sameen Rehman, Drishtipat Canada
• Sumaiya Sharmeen, Drishtipat Canada
• Ehsanur Reza Ronny, Grey Ads
• Shahriar Shamim Emil, Rising Stars
• Nahiyan Khan, Scholastica
• Wafi Sattar, USA
• Ms. Nina Huq, Mastermind School
• Mrs. K. M. Sajjad, Sunbeams School
• Mr. Rick Davies, American International School Dhaka
• Sabrina F. Ahmad, Rising Stars
• Shamma M. Raghib, North South University
• Mr. Taimur Islam, Urban Study Group
• Md. Abdus Salam, DOM-INNO Ltd.
• Mr. Golam Kibria Chowdhury, G.A.P
• Dr. Nizam, Afzalunnessa Foundation
• Dr. Shareef Hasan, BSMMU
• Ms. Rasheda, Aalok Shishu Shikkhaloy
• Mr. Shamim Ahmed, Sunbeams School
• Dr. Idris Ali, BSMMU
• Dr. M. A. Rashid, Ibrahim Cardiac Center
• Dr. Rebecca Milton, Asif Survivors’ Foundation
• Nabila Idris, Bangladesh Medical College & Hospital
• Hiroki Bhai, Ekmattra
• Mr. Azizur Rahman, Surovi
• Community Action
• Mastermind Community Service Club
• Sunbeams Community Service Club
• Abu Sayeed Mohammad Sohail
• Nurullah Sir, The Ark Int’l School
• Rubayat Khan, Jagoree
• Nashrah Rahman, Brandeis
• Anato Chowdhury, University of Birmingham
• Tahmid Islam, University of Liverpool

My Little Angel Is One!

 

Yes, kids do grow up very fast. (= 

Just the other day, she was all warm and cuddly, wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully in my arms. And now, she’s all grown, dreaming and looking up at the skies. I really made a grand effort to take a picture of her properly. You know, the typical smiling, laughing, playing kid who’s happy to be growing up. 
However, in spite of my efforts (and some successes as well), I kinda fell in love with this photo. We were trying to make her sit and smile, but she kept falling back and staring up at the heavens. And what a sky it was that day! 
I think she was dreaming. 
Do you?

Visiting the Cannes

I don’t really like blowing my own trumpet. In fact, I would rather be without it. However, I figured this is a news I can’t help but share, and I am thankful to a lot of people for bringing me to this moment. So yes, for people who know have played a role in my becoming, do know this is a toast to you for your support and love.

A couple of months back, I submitted three photographs at the Sony Cannes World Photography Awards 2009 Contest. There were 10 categories (for ‘Amateurs’) and recently, I came to know one of my photos have been shortlisted into the Top 10 under the category of ‘Music’. 183 photographers from across the globe have been selected and shortlisted (10 or more in each category under the labels ‘Amateur’ and ‘Professional’, so 183 in total), and I couldn’t believe I made it! It was even cooler to know I was the only one from Bangladesh, and it felt really good see my country’s name up in that list.

The second round of judging would have selected the Top 10 photos from the 183 shortlisted ones, and clearly, I didn’t make it through that round. That means I don’t get the prize money; however, I already had more than I could ask for.

So, I received a mail a few days back that read the following:

From a total of 25,370 images entered into the amateur categories alone, it was certainly a difficult decision for all our esteemed judges to narrow the many excellent entries down to the shortlist and then the winner. We thank you for your hard work and commitment to capturing and submitting some amazing images.

Having been short-listed, your work will be on display at the Winner’s exhibition in Cannes as well as featured in the 2009 SWPA Winner’s Book – so congratulations once more on getting to the top 10!

Scott Gray
Managing Director

Sony World Photography Awards
World Photography Awards Limited
9 Manchester Square
London. W1U 3PL
United Kingdom

Like I said, I already got more than I asked for.

Thank you everyone (you know who you are) for your continuous support and belief in my abilities. I still remember the days I dragged Tushmit or Amreen through Dhanmondi Lake to practice portraits, or begged Rajiv to buy me a camera. And Zabir, you know I would not have even participated if you hadn’t pushed me hard enough. I love you all. <3

A very big thanks also goes to my niece, Zara (who is one now) on whom I practiced each and everything about photography I learnt. I don’t think I would have come to this day without her.

As for everyone who will get tagged in this note on Facebook, I am eternally grateful to you for giving me a place to express myself. I never thought I’ll be someone carrying a camera and loving it so much! (=

Thanks to all my Flickr buddies, RS peeps and folks at Drik. You’ve all been an inspiration! (=

The winning photo and shortlisted nominations

The photo on Flickr

I still don’t consider myself a photographer. I am growing, learning and evolving every day. However, it still gives me joy to know all this. woot!

May God bless you all.

36 Hours of Mutiny: A Story of Oppression and Repercussion

I will be uploading my article/insight on the title shortly.

Meanwhile, feel free to browse the following link for photos and videos of the uprising for border guards in Bangladesh:
Footage of BDR Mutiny

A State of Suffocating Silence: A Night Near the BDR Headquarters in Pilkhana

It has been almost 3 hours since we’ve kept the lights at our home down. There is no sound outside – an ironical piece of reality given the fact there are at least 30 army tanks, artillery and hundreds of army troop outside.

Around half past three today afternoon, a message was broadcasted through miking and TV. It came from the local MP of Dhanmondi/Jhigatola – Barrister Fazle Nur Tapash – and requested all civilians within 2 miles radii of the BDR HQ to evacuate their homes. Many left, and in minutes, our apartment became vacant except 3/4 confused families. We’ve been hearing rumours since yesterday and weren’t sure whether we should fall for this one or not. On another note, news was coming in about army tanks and heavily armed police pulling up on the streets of Dhanmondi.

There were two scenarios at hand:
(a) Going out to face these manmade monsters and be caught in a crossfire, or
(b) Stay at home and wait for an apparent air raid

The latter seemed less possible, so the three of us (my mother, my little brother and myself) decided to stay at home. At least, we’ll be safe from whatever chaos was happening in the streets. Calls were coming in from every corner of the city, but making a decision and avoiding the rashness of it was a difficult process. We received calls from high officials in the Air Force and Army confirming there won’t be any air raids, and my mother concluded it was, indeed, best to stay home.

Meanwhile, two army grounds men came to our main entrance and asked us to evacuate immediately. Given such straightforward instructions, we decided – perhaps – it was reasonable to leave. But when we arrived at the gate, they stopped us and said if we couldn’t escape the area within 3-4 minutes, we might be caught in a series of gunshots. They will not be responsible for our lives. We didn’t have any transport except the strength of our feet and it was unmistakable that they wouldn’t carry us to safety within 5 minutes.

We were trapped.

We were told to hide on the ground floor of our apartment. IF there was an air raid, ground floors were the safest of all places. The army grounds men had explained this to us, and we sat on the lobby floor, waiting for something to happen. A while later, our next-door neighbour got up and said she was leaving. We didn’t know how, and even till now, we are not certain whether she had actually managed to leave the premises. The remaining two families – ourselves and the ones from the floor above us – waited for a while and finally decided it was better to stay home than be stranded in the lobby.
—

At half past five, we realized we were actually – in fact – one of the only two families remaining at our apartment. We didn’t know whether there were other families at other apartments or in the neighbourhood. Everything around us was in a frenzy, yet in a state of such utter silence that it reminds you of the weather before a storm is about to strike.

We didn’t know what storm was brewing. All we knew that we were a part of it, and all we could do was pray to Allah (the Almighty) to keep us safe.
—

The lights are switched off and the TV murmurs whatever “breaking news” the world has to offer. Cell phone networks are down. I’m sending occasional text messages to my friends and cousins, begging for the latest news. There has been rumours of a possible air raid, of tanks breaking into the Quarters and of a crackdown. We don’t know what to believe or who to trust. The channels repeat old stories and by now, we have them memorized. We are too afraid to make noise, lest the army and police on the street become aware of our presence and try to break into our home.

Abba has called several times already. We’ve told him to stay at his hospital – safe and away from this havoc. He wanted to come home in an ambulance, but that would only strengthen the suspicion. There are six of us at our home now – Amma, my little brother (Siyam), me and three maid servants. There is a family of five upstairs (if they hadn’t left already because we can’t really tell).

All we have with us are prayers.
And Allah.
—

There is absolutely no noise outside, not a flick of light or even a sign of life.

It is the fear of the unknown that is killing us. We may have made a wrong judgment call or reacted 10 minutes later. However, what has been done has already been seen and felt. A long night is still ahead of us and as I anticipate for the best with my family here, I hope Allah is listening to us.

We wait for the sun to dawn upon us.
—

9:15pm/February 26, 2009
Dhanmondi/Dhaka

Special thanks to everyone who have kept us informed through text messages and phone calls.

Border Guards Rebel at BDR Headquarters in Pilkhana

It was around 9am on the morning of the 25th of February when the sounds woke me up. Initially, I thought they were tyres bursting, but after a while, identified them as gun shots. Disinterested, I rubbed my eyes and sat up on my bed. Living close to the Bangladesh Rifles (a.k.a. BDR or Border Guards) headquarters in Pilkhana have brought me close to numerous occasions where I’ve been jilted from the realms of a dream-world to a less impressive reality by the sound of gunshots. They have practice squads and fancy showdowns, and noise happens to be a common part of the procedures.

However, it was not until half past nine that I realized this wasn’t another practice session with guns and drums. This, in fact, was the entire BDR battalion from the HQ in a riot of some sorts. Quickly, I switched on the TV for some news, but flipping through the innumerable private channels had nothing on the occurrings. The gun shots were getting louder and more frequent, and there was no way I could understand what was really happening.

Sometime around this chaos, my cellphone screeched.

It was my mother calling. She was with my younger brother at Azimpur, where they were giving their SSC examinations. Apparently, BDR grounds men have united and were protesting against discrimination between the army and themselves. They had taken over Rifles Square and surrounding areas, and were shooting haywire at anyone and everyone who opposed their motion.

I was instructed to stay home.

The sounds were getting louder. My friends were calling up and we heard classes have been cancelled at our university. The situation was getting worse, the gunshots more frequent. Channel 1 was the first with some updates. On the preceding day, the BDR Week was officially inaugurated by Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina. The unit grounds men had some demands in written form, which they gave to their Director General (DG), but unfortunately, wasn’t forwarded to the PM. They were told to meet on the morning of the 25th to discuss matters in presence of 100 or so high-ranked BDR and Army officials. At one point, there was an argument between the grounds men and the DG, where the latter was accused of using profanity. Enraged, BDR grounds men pulled out their rifles, took the officials hostage inside a room and brought out ammunition from the barracks. They had closed all entrances to the BDR Quarters and were currently standing guard with guns all over the interiors.

The streets were clearing out. Camera crew and TV reporters were pulling their vehicles into the scenes of action. Curious locals were coming closer to the main entrance (which is a two-minute walk from my house) to find out what was really happening. At a distance, one could see two Army trucks moving closer.

The gun fires have started again.

February 26, 2009
[3:20pm] : Instructions/miking from Army/BDR HQ to evacuate all residences within two miles radii