It was a small but important event. There were only 30-35 people – some second-generation Bangladeshi young, some first-generation adults, some men, some women – all living in New York City. They get together to remember a boy not known to them, even a few weeks ago. The boy, 13-year-old Samiul Alam Rajon, was brutally killed by a group of men in Bangladesh on July 8, 2015.
The second generation of Bangladeshis – some are as young as Rajon- met in Brooklyn to hold a vigil, demanded justice, and asked to stop the nonsensical deaths of so many innocent kids in Bangladesh and across the world.
They said what others had already said. But what was new was their presence as a second-generation Bangladeshi community. They positioned themselves as the community’s voice. They did not make a huge banner or buy newspaper and TV ads, but the effort was a good and right step.
Violence in Bangladesh is common. As mythical as it may sound, as a tolerant country, Bangladesh also condones a tremendous amount of violence. Mixed with despair and disability, fate and faith, history and heritage, police and politics, the lives of Bangladeshi people just go on with a variety of violence. On the other hand, people routinely protest against violence, demand justice, the government makes a task force, sometimes takes action, few are punished, but most of them are forgotten from the public mind, as this routine never changes.
The first generation of Bangladeshi immigrants abroad is well-acquainted with this pattern. They witness the killing of Rajons, the staging of protests, the making of promises, and the taking of steps, whether right or wrong. Time passes, and life continues. While some second-generation Bangladeshis are aware of this trend, most are not. Some can comprehend it, while most cannot. Some understand it, while most do not. However, no one wants to be a part of their prior generation’s repetitive and monotonous mindset that seems to go on forever, like an endless nightmare.
It’s not bad, but they organized a ‘Vigil for Rajon’ in Brooklyn as part of a bold dream.
Again, what they did was more important than what they said. They created an event on Facebook, invited others, communicated with their peers, asked non-Bangladeshi friends to join in, and brought a few first-generation Bangladeshis who cared. Not much was said, indeed. Everyone decently took their turn to say something – short, sharp and to the point – a rarity among Bangladeshi society.
They circled the Church-McDonald Avenue crossing—where many Bangladeshis meet, mingle, gossip, chit-chat, live, and work in Brooklyn—with vigil and slogan. They were not just there to say that they gathered only for Rajon’s in Bangladesh; indeed, they were there to tell that they care for the community they belong to and the country their parents came from, and want to act with resilience and responsibility.
This second-generation Bangladeshi initiative seemed isolated, as there was less enthusiasm among the local Bangladeshi people. They reacted with cautious curiosity and passed by as evasive onlookers. From a nearby mosque, more Bangladeshi Muslims came out after prayer, none stopped by to ask about the event or to attend the Vigil for Rajon!
In a sense, first- and second-generation Bangladeshis have a cultural gap outside of Bangladesh. They are connected but understand each other less. How come when Rajon’s are dying in Bangladesh, first generation Bangladeshis gave wordy statements, but none came out to support the event of young Bangladeshis! On the contrary, any establishment from Bangladesh got a kind of ‘mini-humongous’ reception at airports, hotels, houses, restaurants, streets, and even at picnics. For the first generation, the first event has a clear goal, and the second has a specific ‘aim’.
Again, it is what it is. Child violence happens, people protest, leaders give statements, committees are formed, investigations are ordered, recommendations are submitted, and the outcome remains obscure! Violence happens, people protest, leaders…the cycle goes on and on until it does not end. This is what most Bangladeshis living abroad saw and take for granted. These are part of the payment for being a Bangladeshi. It is still that reality for the first generation of Bangladeshis abroad.
They can show that a better alternative is possible.
What can the second-generation Bangladeshis do? Nothing much or minimal, perhaps. They can show that a better alternative is possible: less talk, more work; less division, more unity; less shouting, more thinking; less newspapers, more books; less drama, more diversity; less popularity, more responsibility. To do this little, the second generation of Bangladeshis does not need confrontation or conversation with the prior generation. Remember Nike?
Bangladesh will not get back Rajon and many others. Still, suppose the sad demise of Rajon can give birth to some spark among the new generation of Bangladeshis to be deeply dedicated, highly motivated, and create a new breed of Bangladeshis in distant lands. In that case, the nation might not have to ask for endless forgiveness from the Rajons who are facing violence and being killed every day.
I hope those tiny lights of the vigil were meant to remember Rajon and welcome a new generation of young Bangladeshi activists living abroad.
