The City I Never Left

Most people carry their childhood with them. I believe that. And I believe we carry the memories of our birthplaces, too.

Though I’ve lived in America for years and visited cities like New York, Chicago and Boston, I often find myself searching for echoes of Dhaka, my birthplace. Beside these metropolises, my beloved city never loses its unique, quiet beauty.

I remember my first visit to Niagara Falls. I felt disheartened not finding the Bangladeshi flag among the many international flags there. But nearby food trucks selling Bangladeshi cuisine reminded me of Dhaka’s vibrant street food.

Even now, sudden rain takes me to my childhood in Dhanmondi. Our home was surrounded by open fields. My siblings and I would rush out to play, shouting with joy. Adults would gather on the rooftop.

I vividly recall one hailstorm – we three sisters had just shaved our heads. As hailstones fell with a “tokas, tokas” sound, they drummed on our bare heads like tabla beats.

This is how my childhood travels with me, wrapped in rain and memory. Yours must too, doesn’t it?