Terry Buckland: 1951-2009

Terry Buckland a fixture at the University of Toronto since 1985 (so I think) passed away on Tuesday, September 8th, 2009 at 12:07 pm.

Terry was the Arts and Science Students' Union. With Jane, his colleague of 20 years, he built the student union to the union that it is today. Together they created the Anti-Calendar which is probably the only book of its kind in North America. Its been around for more than two decades and well respected by both students and the administration alike.

Terry was the reason why the student union took up issues like the 24 hours study space in Robarts, the waiving of interest on outstanding tuition in the Fall term, the faculty process for petitions and appeals, sky rocketing fees, the deregulation of fees in certain programs ultimately leading to the deregulation in the Faculty of Arts and Science. These projects were his babies, except he ensured that the Presidents from one year to the next would carry forward with the same work.

Except, Terry was not only all this, he was much much more to all of us. He might not have had his own kids, but he made children out of so many of us. Terry was always there for us. In my case him and ASSU have been the only constant in my life since 1999. When we were happy Terry was in the background, happy just knowing that we were happy. When something fell out of place in our lives, we could turn around knowing that Terry was there for us. And he was there for us like a parent: forgiving, loving, adoring - no matter what our faults were.

Terry awakened politics inside my soul, before I couldnt care less about politics and government. Terry got me into ASSU, told me I could be President, and that I would be a good one. Terry told me that I shouldnt go to SAC (but I did anyway) because I wouldnt like it (he was right). Terry told me that I should work with kids and education because that is what I love, and he was right again.

I was supposed to write Terry a letter once, which I never did, so I will in my next blog post.

Rest In Peace Terry.

Bengali New Year

Its been a while since I blogged.

I dont blog until something really strikes a nerve....And this time this article in a Bangladeshi Newspaper did it for me. The Daily Star

Pohela or Poila Boishakh, generally falls around the 14th or the 15th of April every year, and marks the Bengali New Year.

On this day, Bengalis dress up in traditional Bengali saris, the women make sweets generally made out of rice flour (these kinds of sweets are called pithes and pulis)...There are numerous kinds of this variation, and traditional households see their mothers and grandmothers getting together days in advance to start the Puli Making festival.

Cultural events are spread throughout the cities, families get together for gift giving, eating and most importantly EATING.

Unfortunately, the border that runs through Bangladesh and West Bengal, India makes observing this tradition kind of difficult. As the article outlines, Siblings havent seen each other in decades, families lose track of one another and loved ones drift apart.

Yes, theres exists a VISA application system, but its pretty pricey to a low income family. Ive witnessed the line ups outside the Indian Visa Application Centre (Yes, they actually have a separate centre). The line ups run up to the front door from both sides, each line has upwards of about 500 people, EVERYDAY.

You're left to wonder, if its like this on the Eastern border, what is it like on the Indian-Pakistani border? I have never seen images like this before in Indian newspapers. Why is that? Is it to shield people from having the residual feelings of partition swell up again?

Why cant we have a system in all three countries, where people can be brought together during major occasions? Is it really that difficult?

Bangladesh #1

Having grown up in Kolkata, I didn't realise that the North American bubble was so successful in engulfing me during the past 9 years, until I got to Dhaka. From the very moment I stepped out of that plane, I've been able to feel my affluence sticking to me everywhere. From my polished nails, to my skin, my hair, my clothes (even if its just jeans, and a cotton shirt 'Im wearing) I can't help but know I'm different, and that everyone is staring at me. Its not just the leers from men, but it's also in the longing of a beggars eyes, in the wonder of a child's face and in the envy spurted at me from a 20 year old girl.

Most of all I'm having the toughest time dealing with the hundreds of beggars thronging the streets. We sit in an AC Car stuck at a light or in traffic, maybe it's the way the two of us look together, and beggars stick around our car much longer than they do others. As much as I would love to reach into my purse and take a 100 taka bill and give to the beggar, I know the reality. That the child in her arms is most probably rented, and that the money she is going to take from me will probably go to her handler. I also know that if I give anything our car will be surrounded by all the beggars in ou immediate vicinity, and we will not be able to get anywhere. My heart hurts, and I can't even lift my head to look into their eyes, because for some reason I'm ashamed of that sticky affluence. Then there are the ones who try to make a living - stuck in that endless cycle of going nowhere. They sell bags of popcorn, little toys, cotton candy, as they maneuver around the horrifying traffic and congestion during rush hour (which basically lasts from 8 am to 10 pm). Yesterday, while we were stuck in traffic at about 7 pm, a little boy, who couldn't have been older than 10, came up to our car, and started wiping it. He worked around the car like a tornado...my friend looked at me and said, "Guess how much hes expecting? 2 Taka." Thats the equivalent of about 3.3. cents. After having done 10 minutes of hard manual labour, he came to the window, fully expecting us to say, "Why did you wipe the car, did I ask you to?" We handed him a 10 Taka bill, about 15 cents, the boy looked at us, and flashed us the most innocent, touching, brilliant smile that I have ever seen in my life...and it broke my heart. We drove away as I was sobbing because he must have a story - I'll never know his - I really cant help him.

In spite of all this, there's dignity in their labour. I look at the richshaw wallahs, the peanut sellers, the fruit sellers, the cobblers on the street...at least they are working, they arent begging for handouts. And you can see it in their eyes. When they look at a beggar, when they achieve the small triumphs in life, their eyes are bright, and their heads are held high...and I even feel guilty for feeling sorry for them. Because I'm sure they wouldnt want me to.

I've become a Westerner. As much as I would like to think Im not - I am a Westerner. I may speak the language, and I can try as hard as I can to blend in, but at the end of the day I'm not one of them...and the sticky affluence sticks to me with all its might.

Then theres the other side of Dhaka, the rich side. In the last three days, We have eaten in at least 3 restaurants, where 99% of the population could never dream of eating. These restarants are never at full capacity, but there is no dearth of them anywhere. They even have a Baton Rouge here! Yes, it's the real Baton Rouge chain. There's a Movenpick - which only sells desserts, a KFC (which is neither fast nor cheap), and there's loads of Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese restaurants everywhere! Even Bengali food is served in shiny, glossy upscale restaurants...

But, these places employ a number of people, as cooks, waiters, bearers, cleaners, sweepers....and keeps an entire side of the economy flowing with money.

There might be an election soon. The caretaker government just banned all demostrations and campaigning until the 3rd of Dec, which means Im gonna be missing a lot of the action. A group of Jamat -e- Islami supporters (thats the political party which is made of Islamnic fundamentalists, according to the people here) were beaten up severely by the cops yesterday, I think.

On the other hand, theres another movement taking place. Last month, the 13th of October, a group of Islamic Fundamentalists tore down statues of baul (folk) singers that were installed, somwhere in Dhaka. That was a part of the anti-arts and culture movement spearheaded by groups of Islamic fundamentalists across the country. Since then Artists, specially from the city of Dhaka have created a group called, "society of conscious artists" and they are staging all sorts of demos. I dont think one has taken place yet since I've gotten here. In the meantime there was a one page ad taken out by a group of fundamentalists issuing a fatwa against the writer of a play on environmental issues. 50,000 taka offered to the person who can kill this man: less than $1000 for the price of a head!

My research is plugging along, in the middle of all this. Many appointments, many leads and many places to go. Today I might be meeting with Dr. Karunamoy Goswami, apparently the go to guy in Bangladesh on Nazrul. Looking forward to what kind of help he can give me.


Alright, I have an appointment in an hour...will write back soon.

Aqsa Aqsa Aqsa

As the internet gets flooded with images of Aqsa, Its as if I am being haunted by her inside. I never knew the girl, I never even knew anyone who looked like her or had the same name. Yet, Aqsa haunts me in my sleep, and her story is gnawing at me inside.

I wanted to go to the vigil being held today at Applewood, but cant bring myself to. Im scared of what I will do.

How many more Aqsa's live in our society. How many women tortured by men in their households? Hhow many children get thrown over the edge by restrictions imposed upon them by their parents?

No matter how bad it got Aqsa was able to stand up to her parents and some or all of her siblings. Yet, no matter how torn she was inside, her friends claim they never knew it was this bad. They never thought the story would end with death.

I can understand how hard it is to run a rebellion on your own, against "tradition". Aqsa must have felt so alone. I wonder what she thought about when she was lying in bed at night.

The truth is Ill never know, noone will ever know.

Aqsa: The farthest light.

Aqsa, whoever named you probably did not mean for this to happen. Your name tragically has come true today. Today, you are far, far away from what you seem to have hated the most: the feeling of being trapped. My thoughts lie with you today, and I hope afterlife or whatever comes after life turns out to be better for you.


I was on the subway yesterday and in front of me sat a mother and 3 young girls. Almost certainly the three girls had not yet hit puberty. The youngest one was barely 4 years old. That really bothered me. All of them wore a hijab.


I am not Muslim, but I have read a little about the Islamic Religion. And as far as I know Muslim girls are supposed to decide on their own once they hit puberty whether or not they want to wear the head scarf. There are many websites online which discuss the pros and cons of wearing the hijab. The woman who have written on these posts all have a mind of their own and all speak for themselves. There are women who dont wear the scarf but are thinking about it. There are women who wear the scarf but regret making that decision years ago. There are mothers who have always worn the hijab, and dont want their daughters to.


Yeah, I can be naive and believe that all Muslim women have a choice. But I'd be wrong. In many cases there is the pressure of the norm. For example, if I was brought up in a conservative family wherein my mother, my aunts, my sisters all wore the hijab, I would definitely be under much more pressure to "decide" to wear the hijab when the time came.

I used to have a friend who wore the hijab, she had three younger sisters, none of whom who had decided to wear the hijab. By the time she finished University she had decided to also abandon the hijab. She was not a different person, she was the same funloving girl, except now we all got to see her hair.


I also know a girl who was one of the most timid girls I knew, she wore a hijab. Slowly as she went through University she went through an amazing change of personality. The last change was when she shed the hijab, and decided to cut her hair "short" to shoulder length.


I have a close friend, who is a mother of three children and wears the hijab. She has an amazing personality. She wrote two children's books, was a Part Time student Governor of the Governing Council of the University of Toronto and just recently was a candidate in the Ontario Provincial Election. She well-spoken, articulate, and speaks with fiery passion.


Many western feminists believe that the hijab is oppressive, that covering a woman's head inhibits their growth. Media portrayal also helps a little bit in this case. In reality though I doubt that is true in its entirety. Like so many arguments that deal with cultural tug-of-wars not everything in this argument is black and white. So, as I am not a muslim woman, I will refrain from commenting on what women in Islam should or should not do.


It is true crazy fanatics like Aqsa'a father, Parvez do exist. From the way that CBC online reads it seems to be evident that the fanaticism is being seamlessly passed down to his son, Waqas. But these fanatics do not just exist in the Islamic Religion. They exist amongst the Hindus, the Sikhs, the Christians, the Jews and every other religion on this planet. However, this is simply not just a question of religious fanaticism, it is also a situation of domestic violence against women and children perpetrated by men behind the closerd doors of a household. Violence is so rampant in our society. I wish I could ask what were Aqsa's mom and other siblings doing when she was being killed by her father?


Aqsa's story should not become a reason for so many to hate all Muslims as fanatics. I just hope that all the Aqsa's who feel trapped in a household of any religion, dont feel pressured to do what they are told to do. Being in Canada means, that women and children have the basic human right to their own opinions. Aqsa's death should remind parents of their basic duty to their children: to provide protection to their offspring.

Rest In Peace Aqsa. I hope you have found in death what you were searching for in Life.

My Tug of War

Whats more important? My religion or What I want?

First things first: Fine, Yes, I was born into a Hindu family. Was I given a choice? Most probably not. Was I brought up by incredibly strict parents who taught us not to eat beef, to pray to all our Gods and Goddesses on a regular basis? Almost definitely not. Was I brought up by my parents to hate all non-hindus, and to only lead life the "Hindu Way"? Most Certainly Not.

Actually in reality this is how I was brought up: I was brought up knowing that I was free to make choices which I thought were right, as long as they didnt hurt anybody. I was told that as long as I was a good human being eating beef or not praying to God really didnt matter. And my mother fought against all forces of nature and family to put me in a school where I was taught the lesson of spirituality and humanity: in essence being a good human being, following your heart and soul, and doing good onto others is really all that mattered.

So then why at the age of 27, am I being told otherwise? Why am I being forced to choose between the person that I am, and the person that I learnt I shouldnt be? Why is it that now, all of a sudden Im being told to be someone completely different than who I am? The answer is very simple: Because now the person that I am has become an inconvenience to many.
Actually its not even my personality, its one aspect of my so-called society imposed identity. A part of my identity that I dont identify with: simply because my parents were born into "Hinduism". Even though ours was not a religious family, we were never impeded by religious boundaries, and there were no religious expectations from us: at the end of the day it really doesnt matter. Because the beauty of Hinduism is convenience, and convenience dictates how much of one's Hindu nature one must follow. It simply was not convenient for my "Canada returned" parents to turn into over-zealous followers of the religion, Bengalis generally are not. However now its utterly convenient for my mother to take on the persona of a racist islamophobe. Simply because now she's surrounded by so many others who are the same.
Technically its not just her fault, or her friends. Its whats going on in the world. Islamophobic Media portrayal has reached a new high, painting Islam as a religion which advocates terrorism, religious clensing and violent measures to promote their own agenda. Except what is always left out is that the above definition only portrays a few followers, not the religion in its entirety.

Am I the first person who wants to be with someone I love and transcenc religious barriers? No. But surprisingly theres not that many. Even amongst second generation Canadians, discriminations are seamlessly passed on from the generation above. The residents of the countries that our parents came from, for example those back home in India have moved on. They are accepting couples living together before marriage, inter religious coupling and dating on a more common basis. Whereas, the generation before us who left their homes mostly in the 1970s or early 80s seem to be stuck in the darkness of their closed minds.

There is also another phenomenon: Its the "as long as it happens to someone else, Im okay" phenomenon. I remember listening to my mom counsel a friend of hers a few years ago about her mid thirties' son's new Muslim Girl friend. She thought about everything from the "spend whatever time you have happily" argument to the "he's a grown man, he can make his own choices" argument. Now those same arguments are falling on deaf ears.

I like to think Im right. Actually I KNOW Im right. As long its not creating a rift between the two of us, there are no reasons for us to break up because of religion. We are both Bengali, and never have I felt that we aren't compatible because of religion. Im not expected to convert.

So, I told my mom as long as he doesnt bring home a 4th wife, Im preganant with my 11th child, and he's kicked me out, shes not allowed to talk to me about my choices.

I laugh when I regurgitate the story of our confrontation, but really am I laughing inside? I wish I could. I just hate to think my mom is one of "them". I wanted to know that maybe she was different than the rest. Except she isnt. And the fact that she isnt is disappointing. Its like youve believed something about someone for most of your life, and then was told that it wasnt true. Thats disappointing right?

My dad is another disappointment. I figured my dad is a singer, he sings songs of Hindu Muslim unity. He talks about Tagore and Nazrul all the time. Except it doesnt work in reality. I know he doesnt dislike Shawjeeb. How could he? Hes reacting the way he is because he is expected to. Hes expected to not be okay with his daughter's muslim fiance, so he isnt. Would he get along famously with Shawjeeb if we werent engaged...most definitely yes!

All in all, my life has turned into the worst cliche of all: love is blind. Maybe everyone else is right. Maybe Im wrong. Even if sticking to my guns turns me into the rudest, mouthiest, angriest person in my family so be it. Im tired of fighting for what I believe in and what I want.

Im tired but Im the happiest Ive ever been.

The Ontario Provincial Election

So its almost time. Its almost time until the writ drops and the province gears up for an election.



Now, is the time. We have come to a point in our provincial political history where we can get it right this time. This time, The Ontarians, who work harder than ever but receive the least in return can vote to get a fairer deal for themselves. This election Ontario's voters can choose to take back Queen's Park for themselves. They can vote in a fashion that chooses to elect MPP's who are from working class families and who represent the changing face of our province.



The McGuinty Liberals got it ALL wrong. After 4 years of broken promises we see that history truly does repeat itself. The closer we get to the election, promises keep getting made, just like last time. These empty promises are thrown into the media. I say we have had enough. We have had enough of sub standard healthcare, enough of smog alerts, and enough of hardworking minimum wage earning families. Mcguinty chose give himself a 40,000 dollar pay raise when he failed to deliver on the higher minimum wage. The pay raise for MPP's was like salt on an open wound.



The Tory Conservatives? Well, they have it all wrong. We dont need private hospitals, when our publicly funded healthcare system is in shambles. We dont want religious school funded by the government when our publiclly funded classrooms are offering sub standard education to today's kids. We dont need deregulated tuition fees when our University students are graduating with a 25,000 dollar debt.



The NDP truly understands that its time to invest in our communities. Its time to invest in the environment. It is time to rebuild the valuable healthcare system that the rest of the world used to envy. It is time to invest in the future, the education of today's children and the youth. It is time to raise the minimum wage to 10 dollars and support Ontario's hard working families who are not getting the deal that they signed up for.