A wall’s eye-view diary of a neighbourhood

Every locality in this city has stories, and none seem to speak louder than the anecdotes shared by walls! Case in point: Shantinagar! Having lived here for over four decades, I am no stranger to the tales they offer, and curiously, these narratives are ever-changing.

As a child, I witnessed the fall of the Ershad regime. Once the dictator was removed from power, the entire neighbourhood came alive with graffiti boldly championing change. The shift in the political landscape was evident simply by looking at the walls.

The area's status as an electoral hotspot meant its plastered boundaries remained a vibrant canvas for "chikamara" (the term locals used for graffiti) even after the downfall of autocracy.

With the advent of technology, these were replaced by posters, sometimes making their point in simple topography and, at times, with grotesque imageries of things done wrong to people with opposing views. [Of course, graffiti came in the limelight once again after the fall of the Hasina-regime. The slogans this time were not just political, but at times, deeply personal, turning every brick into a bulletin board of public dissent.]

In my teens, I began to notice things more seriously. One of the more familiar sights back then was the crowd that gathered around walls with daily newspapers glued on the plaster. Here, you did not just read the headlines, you also got unsolicited commentary from the person beside you, and a regular dose of conspiracy theories from "analysts."

Now in my mid-forties, I spot office-goers dressed in crisp shirts, pressed trousers, and formal shoes, pausing at the same corners jotting down bits of information. Fast forward to the 2020s, the walls has embraced new messages.

The newspaper section is gone and at every turn, you will find flyers offering rooms for rent. No surprises there, but there's a catch!

The "to-let" notices rarely advertise full apartments anymore. Instead, they seek tenants for single rooms or shared mess seats at affordable prices. The ads are simple, no frills; just a brief line and a phone number. Some are "For men only," others "For females," and every now and then, you come across a sign declaring "Only Family" with such urgency, it feels like the wall itself is shouting, "Bachelors not welcome!"

Amidst the sea lie the curious renegade; advertisements for the proverbial ghotok (matchmakers)and their modern-day competition, matrimonial websites. There is also the poster for the Kazi, government endorsed agents who scribes the marital document, the kabin-nama. I shudder at the thought of the "tantrik-sadhu" making his appearance, promising cure to marital discord and a lot of earthly problems!

Of course, there are also the run-of-the mill advertisements of coaching centres. From offering to preparing students for madrassas and cadet colleges to medical and university admissions, every inch of wall space seems to be taken.

Some promise miracle IELTS scores in just three months, results that seem achievable by none but the most proficient in English. Others promise you to teach Korean at Farmgate!

And then there are remnants of advertising trends that never caught on. The "Manobotar Dewal" initiative, launched during the pandemic, encouraged residents to hang their used clothes on the walls for the less fortunate to take. Now, only the words and hooks remain, reminding us that in a city that has now turned cold, humanity makes a comeback only in times of peril.

I have always believed that you can measure the economic condition of a neighbourhood by the stories its walls share. And in Shantinagar, it's clear that the hard realities of life are leaving its mark. After all, it is no longer an affluent part of the city, now mostly called home by the burgeoning middle-class.

The modest, time-worn walls call upon the residents of this locality to hear their stories, and while doing so, echo the voices of the very people that they themselves were built to guard.

PS: In a way, the walls have now moved online. Facebook groups and messenger threads dedicated to Shantinagar are now "plastered" with the same notices, tuition ads, lost-and-found announcements for cats, pest control, and coaching centre promotions! It's as if the walls have taken to the Internet, and still screaming just as loudly.