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The subtle buzz of the radio broke Rita’s slumber. It was the first day of the Bengali year and her younger brother decided to start it with a radio broadcast. Rita smiled at the thought of her brother taking a sudden interest in world affairs when he stopped shifting the stations on reaching the BBC News. She put down the screen of her laptop, nestled closely beside him.
Rita had fallen asleep amidst a discussion on alternative energy sources. The load-shedding problem in Dhaka had elevated to extremes with nearly twelve excruciating hours devoid of electricity. Rita had pondered over what people her age had to say about this and was happy with what she had found. Ally from Taiwan had some unconventional ideas to alleviate the situation.
Rita and her friends only wondered how they could get the world to lend a concerned ear. “One of these days…” but her stream of thought broke off when she remembered the day ahead, the beginning of the Bengali New Year.
The Bengali New Year spelled breathtaking parades and streets crowded with jolly boisterous citizens. In the past year, the students of the art colleges made a rainbow out of the procession and Rita had to climb all the way up to the roof of the Institute of Fine Arts to get a good look of it. Her cousin had told her about the workshops on artwork hosted by intercontinental artists. The students had masterly contrived the new techniques and there were excited gasps at the sight of their accomplishments.
Returning from the back alleys of remembrance, Rita put aside her economics’ book, still open on the page about the American economy. The credit crunch had befuddled her and struck her head-on when her uncle’s job at a computer firm in Ottawa was at stake. The book had fallen short of explanations so she searched up her questions on Google. One thing had led to another and she ended up at a forum talking about renewable energy instead.
Rita flung open her clothes cabinet filled with t-shirts and jeans. “A teenage girl’s wardrobe surely wouldn’t have looked like this five years ago”, she thought to herself and was amazed as she stopped to think about the speed of the Western trend set-in. However, today was going to be different. Rita carefully brought out her red and white sari, awed by the delicate muslin. It was her mother’s and she took the extra effort of learning how to wear it. Rita had found endless websites giving instructions on how to intricately drape, pleat and tuck a sari.
Rita could not resist the urge to reboot her laptop before leaving her room. She had become unusually attached to it ever since meeting a tsunami survivor and a Korean activist online. Their sheer optimism and consistent effort had sparked inspiration in her to do her part as a change-maker. She had decided to start with an anti-pollution campaign in her neighborhood and now it was spreading throughout the entire city – oh what she would do for the chemical factories to stop discarding effluent in the rivers! Her friends from the forums had supported her all throughout, giving constructive advice and burning the midnight oil to brainstorm new ideas with her. Rita was utterly surprised at all the help she received from multiracial people whom she had never really met face-to-face.
Right before exiting her browser, Rita decided to start a petition to stop toxic dumping in rivers. She would appeal to the government if she received sufficient signings but for now, Rita left her portal to the rest of the world in her bedroom, waiting to be summoned later for things left to yet be accomplished.
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Adel Gana | Mar 6th, 2011
Awesome!
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