The lost Shab-e-Barat nights: Disappearing communities

Being a 90s kid, I always had tight relations with my neighbours, be it in the same building or the same alley.

I'm sure most of you can relate to going to the house next door to ask for some sugar/salt or anything you ran out of, or give some food you cooked, or play some board games or for no purpose at all just out of boredom.

Come Shab-e-Barat, this bond was further intensified, as plates of halwa were exchanged, finished with fancy packaging.

I used to find myself running from house to house to take plates of sweets and roti on Shab-e-barat to the elderly nani who lived upstairs or the family beside our flat or the friends I had downstairs.

It was a moment, when faces lit up, and sometimes even conversations were had.

Whether it was halwa made from chana, carrot or egg, everyone had a different take.

The dining table was replete with desserts.

Delicacies which have become part of special occasions like Shab-e-Barat. Photo: Nayem Ali/TBS

In a way, sharing food was one of the easiest ways to show cordiality.

Back then, in simpler times, it was not considered nosy to just show up to someone's house in the evening for some tea and some gossip, or send food to someone's house after cooking special dishes.

But now, the change in community bond is evident.

Connecting through food

Special occasions like Shab-e-Barat, Eid, new years' eve, weddings and all other happy occasions as well as sad ones could not be imagined without the warmth and support of the ones who lived near us.

Tanzeem Tanisa, who is in her late 20s and spent most of her childhood in Malibagh area of the capital, said, "There was this one family, we had good relations with. We helped each other every now and then with little things. But the food exchange culture definitely changed. Now food sharing is only limited to Shab-e-Barat and Eid-ul-Azha. It was much more vibrant in our childhood."

I cannot resonate the same though as I am not acquainted with my neighbours enough to share food even during Shab-e-Barat and Eid-ul-Azha.

Nowadays, Shab-e-Barat seems almost devoid of the lights. The dining table, once full of desserts, now wears a deserted look. Nights spent lighting fireworks with friends in the area have turned to nights spent alone at home.

Fireworks being sold ahead of Shab-e-Barat. Photo: Nayem Ali/TBS

Have we been hurled into a depressingly individualistic society, very contrasting from the childhood surrounded by loving faces?

I remember when my grandmother passed away, our neighbours took turns sending food so that we didn't have to think about cooking.

These were all common practices among people of our previous generation but it feels like the scenario has drastically changed as our generation tends to live amid our phones, go to events with friends when we get time, and live an otherwise isolated life.

Now, I find myself struggling to recount even the names of my neighbours.

Long lost childhood

Having friends in the vicinity was a big part of my childhood.

I still remember playing outdoor games like cricket, badminton, hide and seek, tag and so on with the kids in my area every day. Oftentimes when we weren't allowed to go outside, we would huddle in one of our houses and play games like ludo, carrom and many more.

We even used to have picnics with earthen pots we made ourselves.

I would often spend the whole day at a neighbours' and my mother would have to drag me home after dusk.

Though my father had a job which entailed transferring to new cities every two-three years, wherever I went I did not lack any friends as it was the norm to get acquainted with the neighbours by going to their house or them visiting our place after moving to a new place.

This made finding people my age and in turn hanging out with them afterwards easier.

Whenever I picture my childhood, I see a colourful image with a lot of games, creativity, comradery, laughter and spending time with neighbours.

Community played a big part in my childhood development which I think our children would be deprived of. It takes a village to raise a child, with joint families breaking into nuclear families and neighbours becoming strangers, where is that village?

It is not only getting acquainted with people which has become more difficult, but people have become more avoidant as well.

"Despite knowing some of the neighbours since my childhood, it is weird that there is not much communication anymore. The difference becomes more apparent during Ramadan," said Sadia Nusrat Siddique, who spent all of her childhood and growing up years in government quarters of Dhaka's Motijheel and Eskaton.

"My elder sister and I used to run around with food trays before iftar to give to the neighbours as well as returning the ones previously sent by them. Now that has completely changed. No one even talks to you on the lift if they don't know you."

The why

I think some of this avoidance comes from the nosy neighbours, who made life just a little more complicated for the youngsters, but while trying to avoid the problematic ones we have detached ourselves from an important support system who would have made life so much easier for us.

Also, the everlasting culture of comparing oneself with others has also been a curse for us.

"Do we feed you any less than Sakib [supposedly a topper in the building], why can't you do well in exams like them?" is one of the very common dialogues heard from our parents.

This often created rifts among friends as well as made us more cautious about who to associate with.

"Connection with neighbours is now limited to exchanging greetings on the lift and having chitchats here and there. I am connected with a few of them on social media but as you can tell the scenario is very different from our childhood now," said Ahmed Rabbani Rasha, who lives in Adabar, Dhaka.

With social media taking a front row seat in our lives we have become closer to some while alienating the others. We often fail to grasp that being present in the moment can be more important than maintaining that snapchat streak.

Lack of social energy, being too self-oriented or a general indifference, whatever may be the cause, should not warrant us cutting off completely from the ones who live a few steps away.

Go to that aunty's house who lives alone, become friends with the girl/boy who might be fighting the same battles as you, connect with people nearest to you.