Hi,
Can’t say my name here cause it’s Reddit. I heard it’s raining in Dhaka. I haven’t been there for a long time. I was born in Dhaka Bangladesh but I was raised in Canada.
My time in Bangladesh was very limited yet traumatic. In school I was bullied for having hair in my hands and legs why my voice was so deep and why my parents were divorced. Even as a child I begged god to actually execute me fr. But through all this pain something I really loved about Dhaka was the Kal Boishakhi jhor. I loved it with all my heart and soul that a 7 year old me was sitting outside of my house when a jhor took place and my grandma bought me in because she didn’t know I was there before head.
It’s not like I never came for a trip back here I did and it gave me so much trauma again, I decided not to come here again forever because of my dad. He would spread rumors about me things like I was sick I had an operation and I was in a hospital and he would go to my nanu tell things like “ or ma to Onno beta ke biye kore tar shathe Ghumai or character Kibhabe bhalo hobe” while him. Being married to another person as well. I now consider him dead.