26 March "Freedom to Party" disco night a rip-roaring success

By Arif "Prism" Shaikat, Society Correspondent

International IC Club, Gulshan, 26 March 2009. Golden Aura Entertainment brings a hot hot night of partying down to the guys and dolls of Dhaka City. The Freedom to Party gala event celebrated 26th March, which is the anniversary of that famous day in 1973 when the Colonel Z dropped mad rhymes on behalf of our great national leader, "Shake" M Rahman. The party was held for residents of Gulshan and Baridhara only, although guests were allowed from Banani and the DOHS areas as long as they brought girls with them.

Michael Karim, owner of Golden Aura Entertainment, said "Yo. Freedom's a tight thing. But what's fuckin' freedom if you don't got the freedom to party? This is why we've organized the most exclusive night of partyin' down since our 21st February Bros before Hos event, the Valentine's Day bash last month, or the New Year's Eve party before that: a night of boozin', schmoozin', and floozin'."

We socialites are certainly appreciative of Michael Karim, who shows us again that in spite of political instability, widespread poverty, and the recent BDR mutiny, we can still party like it's 2009.

But of course, as with everything else, there are detractors. Critics of Golden Aura Entertainment or GAE have said that throwing parties to commemorate dates like 21 February and 26 March miss the point of what it means to be Bangladeshi. They have pointed out that GAE's parties invariably involve drunkenness, drunk driving, and violence. Golden Aura's parties also have an age disparity, where men in their mid-thirties often harass and try to seduce impressionable, scantily-clad girls in their late teens. Michael Karim has been accused of corruption, sycophancy, date rape, and lowbrow tastes in clothing.

Michael Karim responds: "Chill. I simply provide a service: the opportunity to GET DOWN. If you don't want to party with me, you're most welcome to stay at home and lock up your daughters. But I'm the voice of sanity, I'm the cool kid, and I think that it's better for young guns to let off steam at my parties than do Yabba."

Whatever your point of view, one thing is certain: when it comes to shakin' booty, there are none who do it better than the Babes of Bengal, and the place to do it is with Michael Karim!

PICTURED: A party-goer in fancy dress.

DESHI DOG BUPU STAGES SEPIA MUTINY

By Sajjad “Stu” Rahman, Foreign Correspondent

Westland, MI.

Loyal readers of Joruri Khobor may recall that your humble correspondent was the first reporter to break news of Deshi Dogs, a Chicago area business importing Bangladeshi nationals for Americans unable to afford dogs or cats. A rarity in these days of economic despair, Deshi Dogs seemed an enterprise demonstrating the ingenuity of its founders, Johnny Talukder and Moushum “Moz” Mustakeen.

Showing the courage and forward-thinking entrepreneurship always distinguishing people of Subcontinental descent, Deshi Dogs appeared a genuine American success story—for what is more Baseball and Apple Pie than darkies in a mutually beneficial servitude to their White masters?

Alas, that fateful Dictum of Dhaka Life has proven universally true—no matter the social event or setting, there will always be one Bengali that ruins everything.

In a shocking twist of events, Bupu, the very first Deshi Dog sold, has staged a violent revolt against his American owners, injuring two people, killing seven chickens and causing at least $5000 (US) in property damage to cars.

Bupu’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Fastenblast, of Westland, Michigan, purchased their pet in August. “We didn’t have money for a dog, but Deshi Dogs said Bupu was almost as good as a poodle. He liked us from the get-go, always happy to chase a rubber ball whenever Mother threw it into the grass. But then he turned sour. Look at my arm. No dog would do this,” said Mr. Fastenblast, one of the two people injured by Bupu, as he displayed a series of seven bite marks smeared with feces and marinated with urine.

Mrs. Fastenblast, who was not injured in the attack, was unable to hold back her tears as she discussed Bupu. “He was like my brown, ugly child,” she said, holding photographs of happier times.

So, what happened?

Exact details remain hazy, but it appears that after half a year of captivity, Bupu remembered his in life in Bangladesh. Mr. Fastenblast says the trouble began when Bupu asked to be read the original Joruri Khobor article about Deshi Dogs. The description of the Deshi Dog known as “Kim Kardashian” sounded a disharmonious chord within Bupu, and when Mr. Fastenblast finished reading, he says that his Deshi Dog remained uncharacteristically silent for hours.

Finally, at midnight, Bupu accosted Mrs. Fastenblast. Although unable to recall his exact words, she says he said something akin to, “Alone, bad! Friend, good! Kim Kardashian. Like me. Woman…. Friend… Wife…”

“I didn’t know what he meant,” said Mrs. Fastenblast. “Usually when Bupu talked we didn’t pay any mind—mostly he asked if it was okay to defecate in the house. He never could understand that in America people don’t go number two on the carpet. ”

Mrs. Fastenblast went to sleep. The next morning, she woke to the screaming of her husband.

In his own words, Mr. Fastenblast says, “When I came down into the kitchen, every single wall and window was smeared with feces, and a big puddle of urine was on the kitchen table. Bupu was standing in the middle of it all, naked and drooling. He had a crazy look in his eye. I asked him what he was doing, but all he would say is “debir podochummone ami mogno.” I don’t understand that monkey talk, so I yelled at him to sit down. That’s when he came over and bit me. I’m not a young man. I fell over in pain. That’s when he held me down and wiped his behind on my wounds and urinated on me.”

Leaving Mr. Fastenblast in the kitchen, Bupu ran into the backyard where he attacked the family’s chicken coop, breaking the wings of nearly all the birds, and biting the heads off seven. His face streaming with avian blood, Bupu ran to the front yard where he encountered John Stoutly, a neighborhood mailman.

“As a postal worker,” says Stoutly, “I encounter a lot of hostile pets. You get good at calming animals down, but nothing prepared me for a blood smeared, shit-assed Bangladeshi peasant.”

Stoutly says Bupu pushed him to the ground and kicked him while screaming, “Free Party mayere bap, Communism khaape khap!” After beating Stoutly, Bupu picked up a stick and smashed the headlights and windshields of every car on the Fastenblast’s street, leaving behind a wake of broken glass and dented metal.

Bupu has been missing for five days. Authorities followed his trail but lost the path of human feces when it crisscrossed with a homeless encampment in nearby Detroit. When the owners of Deshi Dogs were contacted with the news of the escape and attack, they denied that Bupu had ever married Kim Kardashian. “Absolutely not,” said Mr. Mustakeen. “There is no connection between the two. We would never split a pair.”

Bupu’s whereabouts are the daily topic of conversation in the barbershops and beauty parlors of Westland—some people, including the Fastenblasts, believe that he is on his way to find Kim Kardashian. Others wonder how long a Bangladeshi can survive without White masters providing food and water. Many believe that Bupu has perished already, a victim of his own rebellious nature, like the figure of Satan in the poetry of John Milton.

Gentle reader, you may rest assured that whatever the fate of Bupu, Joruri Khobor and your humble correspondent will spare no resources in following the long, dark trail of human feces to its very end—or should we say beginning?

Bangladesh bans Youtube: "Govt to remain focused on serious issues" says Humayunnessa

Chondrima Phuchka Stall, Chandni Chowk: Begum Humayunnessa outlined the basis of her government policy and style. The most important message she had to say to her fifteen crore admirers is that the GOB or Government of Bangladesh will remain focused on serious issues, the ones that really matter.

"We came to power by positioning ourselves as an alternative to the corrupt regime of Deshpremik Dol and the non-corrupt Army-run government. We promised to tread the middle ground of non-corrupt incompetence and corrupt incompetence. And I think that we have succeeded," said Begum Humayunnessa. "Our most important achievement thus far has been the blocking of immoral Western video site Youtube, and the citizenship cancelation of Bangladeshi Youtube co-creator Jawed Karim." This was received with widespread applause.

The only note of protest was from an effeminate Daily Star reporter with a British accent. He said, "I have been raised in the UK, and I think that the government should concentrate on fixing the myriad problems besieging our country right now. For example, the BDR perpetrators have not yet been brought to justice."

Humayunnessa's spokesperson translated her response: "First things first. There are criminals from three decades ago that we need to catch. We will punish the BDR perpetrators in due time, by 2045." It should also be noted that she has hired special investigators from the RIAA of America, and Swedish-American rocker Lars Ulrich, to head the BDR investigation.

Perhaps there is a secret motive behind all this. Rumors abound that the main reason for the YouTube banning is an overabundance of Hanif Shongket videos which were infringing on his copyrights. We at Joruri Khobor consulted our internet expert, Mollik "Mash" Mustafiz. He said "The nature of the internet is such that banning one site cannot suppress media. Digital duplication allows us all to act as virtual file servers. We can mirror these files anywhere we wish and confuse the government simply by renaming or re-encoding the files from Pirated_Ittadi.mpg to Chayachondo.mpg. We cannot, however, duplicate Mr. Shongket's genius in giving J R Ewing's a Noakhali accent."

To prove his point, he has even linked the Ittadi episodes in question on this link. We at Joruri Khobor laugh for after all here is a man who named himself after a TV show that has been off air for ages!

Begum Humayunnessa will be broadcasting her speeches via Radio Foorti, now that YouTube is gone. She also said "If these YouTube files are mirrored anywhere else, I will ban those sites too! I can ban any site I want and after all, it is the government that puts the Ban in Bangladesh."

Hotel Al-Habibi going strong in spite of recent crises

Hotel Al-Habibi, Dhanmandi: The BDR mutiny has been the cause of many a tragedy. The BDR Annual Officer's Gala has been postponed till April, which is the projected time frame for justice being achieved. Abahani's fans have missed out on watching their favorite football team practice. Beautiful women put up black ribbons on their Facebook pictures, stopping me, Akkel Khan, from adding them as friends and calling them "saxxy". In short, Dhaka—and especially Dhanmandi—was taken back to a time in the past, when bloodshed and violence was the norm. We are of course talking about 1998, before Dhanmandi Lake was restored and the romantics regained their dating spot.

But every cloud has a silver lining, and today Joruri Khobor is doing an article on Hotel Al-Habibi, favorite dining spot of stars and CNG drivers alike. Why are we ignoring serious political issues to talk about a roadside kabab store? Perhaps it is because we owe the owner money, or perhaps it is because they have found a unique business model and menu selection!

Mr. Rushtom Arefeen Regan, sole proprietor of Hotel Al-Habibi, says: "We first came into business in the year 2000. We found a niche in the market. We sold kababs that were so cheap that people would never question their sourcing. Rather, they would enjoy the fine taste of our spice blend and refer their friends to come partake in the novel dining experience." Mr. Regan's business model has definitely succeeded, because he began as a single chef toiling away above an open drain, and now he employs seven children.

"People see it as a sort of challenge, to guess at the content of our kababs. Because face it, how can a man, no matter how noble his thought, sell a kabab at 1 Taka per kabab when even the ruti is 2 Takas?" Mr. Regan asks. In fact, the mystery ingredient has become such a point of discussion that, for a period of a year, Mr. Regan held a weekly contest where the person to guess the secret ingredient in the kabab would get free kababs for the night. "People thought dung and rat were joke entries. All I'm saying was, a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side." The contest was discontinued once the public realized that Stoplite, Hotel Al-Habibi's advertising agency, always designed the questionnaires with things like "love" and "talent" and "hard work" as the winning answer.

Today, however, Mr. Arefeen Regan has a new secret ingredient. “Any Tom, Doulat and Hashem can tell you that the first thing to do with a corpse is to check for watches, rings, precious metal teeth, and in some cases, boots. But real entrepreneurship begins in taking a resource that is worthless to the supplier, and turning it into a product that is highly valued by consumers. To this end, I have found a novel and profitable way to dispose of the sudden surplus of corpses flooding the market.”

Most of Hotel Al-Habibi’s patrons are willing to eat rat for the novelty and spicy taste of a 1 Taka kabab, but most of the hobbyists are drawing the line at cannibalism. “I don’t get it, man!” says Bassbaba Sumon, celebrity endorser. “I like finger food as much as the next homie, but I don’t want fingers in my food yo!”

In response, Rushtom Arefeen Regan has made the following argument: “Well, I am not the one producing corpses. They can be found in ditches, in the sewers, in the riverbanks. I am simply taking a publicly available resource and reusing it for the greater good. If you don’t want to eat it, that’s fine. But we’ve been able to drop prices by 50% and business has never been better.”

PICTURED: Do you really want us to go there?

Probashi immigrant intellectual is like a dog fetching sticks

By Sajjad “Stu” Rahman, Foreign Correspondent

Washington, DC. 

For the Bengali, a visit to the United States evokes many strong feelings. He sees so much in contrast with his experience of Dhaka or Chittagong—the immensity of the riches, the width and depth of women’s hips, the variety of sexual possibility—that he can not help but be changed. But what of the children of Bengali immigrants, those born in America and called Bangladeshi-Americans? What is life like for those with one foot firmly rooted in the traditions and customs of the Subcontinent and another planted on the soil of Hemingway, Faulkner and Fitzgerald?

One of the great success stories is Reihan Salam, columnist, editor and author. After a long career in journalism, Salam, a Brooklyn, NY native and a Harvard Graduate, recently made waves with the publication of his book, Grand New Party: How Republicans Can Win the Working Class and Save the American Dream. With co-author Ross Douthat, Salam articulates his cogent vision for the 21^st Century Republican party, a theme that he regularly sounds for The American Scene and in his weekly column for Forbes.com. With a plate this full, it is remarkable that Salam finds time to serve as an associate editor of The Atlantic Monthly, a storied American publication renowned as one of the most influential in the English speaking world.

Salam’s writings extend beyond the political and intellectual—often he casts a keen eye on popular culture, and his unique insights prove, contrary to the repeated assertions of Professor A. F. M. Ruhul Haque, that brown skin in no way impedes one’s ability to comprehend, understand or even enjoy the musical works of Fall Out Boy. Indeed, it is these forays away from the main road of his remarkable career which have brought Salam down a side-path familiar to his fellow Bangaldeshi-Americans.

Consumed with a fever-pitched fear of being unaccepted by his fairer skinned colleagues, Salam has begun posting a series of YouTube videos in which he demonstrates his extensive reading of Shakespeare. In a typical video, Salam sings and dances in an exaggerated manner intended to heighten his colleagues’ sense that their chum is one of the many—after all, if a brown man can laugh at himself, hasn’t he shown not only his good spirit but the basic rightness of being American?

For Maleeha “Mary” Chowdhury, 26, of Bethesda, MD, Salam’s videos struck a chord. “When I saw the one where he pretends he shit his pants,” she says, “I knew exactly what he was up to. You can try grandstanding with Whites, and telling them impressive lies about your lineage, but in the end, the only thing that works is humor. They seem to really enjoy it when you roll around on the ground like a monkey infested with lice.”

Detractors of Reihan have voiced criticisms of his videos. “If you look at this chandu motka,” says Muhammad Faisul, 19, of Queens, New York, “what you see is another afraid to live on his own terms in the white man’s world. Bengalis have been wiping the asses of Americans since the glorious War of Independence. Is this why our forefathers fought and died? Is this why our intellectuals were massacred by the Pakis? To birth a generation of clowns? Can anyone imagine Rabindranath Tagore or Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay eating their own vomit from a bucket on YouTube in the hopes that some white person somewhere might validate their written work? Reihan Salam is like a beggar throwing his shit in the street—he does what is necessary to be noticed. People like him make me ashamed to be Bangladeshi-American.”

But Maleeha Chowdhury disagrees. “A person like this Muhammad Faisul probably lives in the ghetto and doesn’t understand the pressure of fitting in with the real world. There is a lot of stress on minorities. If Reihan has found a way through deference to make Americans respect him as an intellectual, then I say more power to him!”

The reaction of Salam’s colleagues bear out the truth of Chowdhury’s words. Known sodomite blogger Andrew Sullivan linked one of Salam’s YouTube videos, and included the comment, “Look at brownie shuck and jive! He reminds me of a blackamoor, except utterly non-threatening and more likely to lick my boots than steal them!”

Salam’s co-author, Douthat, had this to say, “Reihan is a real intellect, an American original, but until I saw him perform ‘Disarm’ by the Smashing Pumpkins in a falsetto and dance out a foxtrot, I didn’t really like him as a person. Now he seems like a cat with his claws removed, a brown little beastie waiting to have his tummy scratched. I think that this was Salman Rushdie’s real problem—he forgot how to be funny!”

For his own part, Reihan Salam offers no formal comment on his videos, preferring to let the work stand on its own. But we imagine Salam smiling somewhere, surrounded by his scholarly papers and plotting his next move, knowing that he is two Judas Priest songs and one Macarena away from earning the respect of his betters.

Valentine's Day and one boy's search for love

AKM Pavel Jonathan, Foujdarhat Cadet College: Valentine's Day is a day of excess propagated by American television shows like Baywatch. It excites our country's youth into taking liberties with the opposite sex. As such, it should be banned and outlawed. Unfortunately, this celebration of so-called non-marital, non-commercial "love" is like other Jewish conspiracies as Israel, George Bush, the concept of free speech, Warner Brothers, and Christianity (which is just another guise for heathen Jews to practice their black magic). It is an evil we must live with.

Being a student of Cadet College, I am not a stranger to love. I am, however, a stranger to most women aside from the usual psychosexual trinity of mother, sister, bua. Today, with a spirit of discovery and the usual joubonjala in my loins, I set out looking to find the secret of this crazy little thing called "love".

My first interviewee was Ferdous Sir, our games teacher and Cadet from the 37th Batch, Shahidullah House. I will present the interview in a question-answer format.

Q: Sir, what is love?

Ferdous Sir: That is a difficult question, the most difficult to answer. Perhaps we must look to the ancient philosopher Aristotle. He would walk about the gardens with his beloved students, much as you and I are doing right now.

Q: So, sir, are you saying that love is taught in the classroom?

Ferdous Sir: Perhaps not, although in love there is often a teacher and a student, much like you and I.

Q: Sir, are you saying that love is not just limited to men and women, but is a wider thing, such as friendship?

Ferdous Sir: My friend, love is definitely something that can happen between a boy and a man!

At this point, I realized that Ferdous Sir was possibly referring to what we Cadets call "Krittodasher Nirban" or the cry of a slave. This refers to a sweet-term who is made to do the bidding of his senior, in every manner possible including mouthal and anusal. Since I am a senior and not a sweet-term anymore, I ran away saying I had incomplete prayers.

I did not know any better what love means.

So I went to see the local poet, Abdul Hitlar Khokon, and find his opinions on love.

Q: Hitlar bhai, I have come to ask you a question.

Hitlar: As the bird's wings fly, so ask questions of the sky.

Q: No actually I want to ask about love.

Hitlar: Love is a feeling quench my desire, but sometimes love is a crow on the wire.

Q: Hitlar bhai, how does one find love?

Hitlar: One finds love not by looking, and love turns into marriage, cleaning and cooking.

Q: What do you think of love and the celebration of Valentine's Day?

Hitlar: Valentine's Day I met the love of my life! She was a tight maal but we were found out by my wife.

Q: Oh no! What did you do?

Hitlar: I gave my wife my child and a packet of mouri, she went back to her parents' and left me the dowry.

Q: Did you end up marrying the love of your life?

Hitlar: Yes, I did, and what a happy year! But the next Valentine's Day came true my worst fear.

Q: What happened?

Hitlar: I tore off a rojoni gondha, I said "Baby I am think of you", but alas her eyes wandered, and she found her true love too.

I learned the most important thing about LOVE. It is different things to different people. To our Ferdous Sir, love is the feeling of a tight boy's legs in the squash court. To Hitlar Khokon the poet, love is adultery.

But what is love to me? Who is the girl who will one day win my heart?

It is none other than Angelica, the mute girl from the famous telefilm OFFBEAT. In the telefilm, the members of Bangladeshi Creed cover band BLACK are lafangas who seek nothing but free Pepsi. (This telefilm is the most famous example of product placement achieving a negative effect in the third world, more so than the case of Marlboro-sponsored school uniforms that we have seen recently). They steal Pepsi, but Tahsan Khan steals the heart of the mute Angelica Alauddin, who is probably simple-minded as she cannot speak, and who also lacks the power to say no (also for the same reason). However, we find out that she cannot have Tahsan or ride his cycle to a place far away from captivity, as she is engaged to her brother Intikhab Dinar. Intikhab Dinar speaks two lines of English in this telefilm, including the immortal "I just love you" and "You have just screwed mewap". The telefilm also features a cameo by a short man in a Superman costume, most likely a hanger-on of the band BLACK.

The magic moment truly comes when Tahsan goes to offer Angelica a Hallmark card of love. She doesn't say yes, she doesn't say no (being mute). But her brother and fiance, Intikhab Dinar, explodes at Tahsan in English. But all is well--Tahsan does not find love but the two men shake hands and say "Happy Valentine's Day". This is the lesson we learn.

The fabulous clip is here:

PICTURED: Ferdous Sir, Abdul Hitlar Khokon, Tahsan

Top 10 Responses to Telling People You're Divorced

By Hunter-walli, Mohila Correspondent

1. (The case being that you're fairly young, female and Bangladeshi) Random nurse at a hospital remarking upon the fact that the former husband was very good looking (i.e. forsha) and the wife wasn't (i.e. kaalo), "It's a problem if you marry men who are too good looking. They don't want to stay with you for too long.

2. A "well-wishing" neighbor assuming that the wife was the dumped instead of the dumpee, "It happens. Men do go after prettier women after a while. Why don't you enroll in a gym?"

3. A relative of the former husband who had no idea of anything that had been happening, "Divorce? Oh, poor thing, he's alone now! I hope you left him the baby?"

4. A friend's mother, "I knew this was going to happen. Women should only wear saris after marriage and give up salwar kameezes."

5. A female relative, "Oh, how sad. You know, I told you three years ago to take another baby, and now there's no chance, you're stuck with one child."

6. A shocked newspaper editor on being told of the divorce and the causes (mental and physical abuse), "But are you sure about the physical abuse? Were you there?"

7. A (former) aunt-in-law, "Oh, that's okay. I'm sure he'll forgive you and take you back once the three months of iddat are over."

8. A college friend met after a gap of about ten years (in a wailing tone), "But I've just bought a wedding gift for you since I hadn't given you anything back then!"

9. A friend's (Jamaati) uncle: (Raised eyebrows, gunshot comments, each repeated for effect) "Oh!" Brief pause. Then. "Unfortunate, unfortunate, not to worry, not to worry, try again, try again!"

And the undoubted winner:

10. A police officer at the Thana while recording the information for a General Diary against the battering husband, "Oh, you want to do a GD, domestic violence." Looking up from the huge register book, "So are you married?"

PICTURED: May divorce be with you.