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May, 2006 @newagebd.com Main Page « Front Page « Metro « Business « International « Sports « National « Editorial « Op-Ed « Home « Timeout « Letters «

GREY MATTER Ah, why disturb the status quo? Tanim Ahmed Imagine what would happen if all of a sudden the retirement age of bureaucrats were reduced by about 10 years? Besides the obligatory protests and much unrest, some of the disgruntled civil servants could even go as far as to form their own party. Even that would not be far fetched at all.    Sheikh Hasina, president of the Awami League, which is also the main opposition party, did something quite similar this month. On the first day of the national council session of the Chhatra League — Awami League’s student wing — she declared that aspiring candidates for the student wing’s 201-member national central committee would have to be of 29 years or below, which is almost 10 years less than the norm. On top of that, the committee would be elected by secret ballot, instead of being selected by high-ups of the party.    Such sacrilegious irreverence to time-honoured tradition proved much too traumatic for the ranks, especially those ‘suddenly ineligible’ quarters. The uproar and violence that followed were only natural. Not only did the ineligible activists and sympathetic quarters protest against the decision, there were also skirmishes and reports of gunfire in and around the election venue on the election date.    The age bar is stipulated to be 27 by the party’s constitution but was relaxed by two years because the council session was not held on time. Invoking the outmoded age bar, as many an insider would agree, was imprudent and quite impractical. It takes years to groom and harden potential student leaders into aspiring business tycoons and quell any scholastic aspirations or romantic idealism regarding politics and welfare of the people.    Thus by their mid or late 30s, when they retire from student politics, these activists learn to appreciate the commercial prospects of politics and also begin to realise promises of a parliament membership. Their commercial endeavours also keep the party machinery rolling.    It becomes painfully obvious then that the age bar stipulation comes from an archaic era dominated by romantic naïveté.    On top of that, there was the added trauma of going through an election this year, only the second time in the party’s history. It was too much a heady concoction in one blow. The disgruntled quarters have their reasons but amid all the protests and shooting, the cadres forgot to cash in on an opportunity and thereby gain valuable experience.    With the election year coming, it would have been immensely rewarding if the Chhatra League cadres instead diverted their unremitting attention into rigging the elections. After all there is little opportunity for such experience and here was an election being practically shoved down their throats. Hasina proved to be more farsighted than many might admit in this regard at least. If the young wards cannot rig their own election, how would they contend with their incumbent counterparts?    But then again, there is no reason whatsoever to have elected bodies for the trifling reason of upholding democracy in the true sense.    A unique feature of Bangladesh’s democracy, the Caretaker Government, which conducts the election has already proved to be reasonably efficient in its job. But during the caretaker tenure, the crucial offices of the chief adviser and the chief election commissioner, both nominated from a select group of individuals are not elected in any sense. The president could perhaps be considered ‘indirectly’ elected at best.    All three key positions that virtually run a government for a certain period of time are unelected and have proved themselves to be dependable so far. But the logical dissatisfaction within the Chhatra League was completely misunderstood. It was rather unfortunate.    The decision on the part of Hasina was not only immoral but disrespectful to the status quo. It would disrupt the smooth political machinery as well as the balance of the political establishments of the country. What with the age bar for students and democratic procedures, ominous precedents as they are, the very fabric of the political culture would be threatened.    No wonder Khaleda Zia, the prime minister, repeatedly keeps saying that the opposition is involved in a politics of destruction. She is only too right. Khaleda has not done anything of the sort to upset the balance, nor have various other parties.    And if they have any respect for tradition, they won’t either. LOVER OF LEAVING Red light special Gypsy Mei It was the middle of a crazy sudden monsoon shower that Jay, Avi, and I decided to visit Patpong, the red light district in Bangkok. Just to check it out, you know. ??    Our taxi driver dropped us off at the Patpong night market which was housed under a tarp that was in serious danger of collapsing under the weight of the water collecting on top of it. The two seconds it took us to get from the taxi to the swayback dripping tarp soaked us, not to mention the gushing black water gutters we stepped through. Yeah, let’s not mention that. So far, I have not developed ringworm or any other rashes, knock on wood.    We were immediately set upon by several touts who waved laminated fliers in our faces. These fliers can be summarised thusly (and to protect sensitive ears, I am substituting the word “yummy” for the word actually used):    banana yummy    ping pong yummy    dart pushing yummy    candle blowing yummy    etc.    It was a bit much, I thought, but I hadn’t seen anything yet. We next entered a place called Super Yummy. As soon as we sat down, we were surrounded by women who proceeded to massage us thoroughly. At first, we were very pleasantly acquiescent until we realised that every motion or glance on our parts required payment. My masseuse was no less vigilant in her efforts, but upon my insistence that I had no money, she finally left me alone.    The red light district in Patpong has become more of a show for farangs than an actual pick up joint for either Thais or farangs. Of course, there is much picking up to be done if you wish, but mostly the women do their thing on stage and then collect baht in a grimy bucket marked “tips for the yummy.”    The most surprising thing to me was the utter and complete blase boredom in their body language. The faces of the women on stage were absolutely blank, but not in a sullen or sad way, just bored. Their bikinis were sometimes pulled aside to expose nipples and pubic hair, in a careless, hell if I care way. Some of them wore white athletic socks, like those western career women who wear sneakers to work and switch into heels, but as if they had forgotten to change.    The women pulled strings of flowers and handkerchiefs from their nether regions, shot precision darts to burst balloons tied to the ceilings, blew out candles on a fake cake, inserted mini peeled bananas and squirted them great distances, all while slouching and shrugging and sighing. The younger and prettier the woman, the less likely she was to perform any interesting acts, or any acts at all.    The strangest act was the 40-something woman who came out on to the stage with two bottles. One was filled with water. The other was empty. She suctioned the liquid from the water bottle up her vagina. Then she expelled it into the other bottle, except it had turned black somewhere along the way. As the ladyboy attending to Jay explained (more on this in a moment), that was her trick: in goes water, out comes coke. My only theory for how she might have accomplished this feat was that she had black dye in her vagina which coloured the water on its way out. Any other guesses?    So the ladyboy with Jay. The last few days Avi and I had pointed out several women who Jay had claimed were actually men, much to our disbelief. So when Jay told me the woman to his side at the Super Yummy bar was a man, I wasn’t convinced. Until the cost of her operation came up. Apparently, 100,000 baht, or about $2500, will buy you a sex change in Bangkok. The ladyboy (who objected to this term vigourously when Jay used it) was pretty funny actually, and quite beautiful. She refused to leave his side the entire night, despite his protests that he wasn’t interested.    When he tried to tell her that she was making his girlfriend jealous (I guess that would be me), she laughed and said, “She know I don’t want you, your penis too small.” And she held up her pinky. We found out the prices to some other activities along the way. Avi attempted to get a massage (yes, really) from a woman who was arguably the hottest and certainly the least bored looking woman there, other than the ladyboy. The hottie (Alissa) asked if he would prefer oral sex for $20. He didn’t (yes, really) and settled for a topless lap dance for $12.    At some point in the night, I was suddenly hit by one of the mini peeled bananas. I was going to die from the grossness until Jay informed me that a woman had thrown it from the stage by hand, not by vagina. Still horrible, right?    Then he exclaimed, “Hey, it’s not that bad!”    Avi and I turned to see Jay holding a half eaten banana in his hand. And he was chewing. I couldn’t even speak from horror and Avi almost lost it screaming. Of course, Jay finally put us out of our misery by showing us the piece he had broken off the banana and thrown on the ground.    We all agreed that this would be a good time to leave.