What price do we pay to succeed in life?
What price do we pay to succeed in life?
Written By: Naimur Rahman Takbir
Do you remember sitting down to complete your homework as soon as you got home from school in order to be permitted to go out and play with your friends later on? Or perhaps everyone gathering around a bonfire in a field on New Year's Eve to tell tales about the previous year while enjoying the warmth of the embers? Well I do.
I used to think everyone else got to experience these, like I did, despite spending my entire childhood in the hectic capital of our nation. And the reason for that is because I grew up in a colony where everyone loved and looked out for one another, and no one was afraid to step up if someone else was in trouble. Values that can be seen very rarely in people nowadays.
Reminiscing the old days:
Our colony felt like a completely different planet to me even though it was just next to the main road because of how well-protected it was from the outside world by the canopy of trees all around it. We moved there when I was just three years old, and I spent the following 10 years there, creating friendships and memories that I will remember for a long time. I spent my childhood riding my bike through the empty roads inside the compound, playing hide-and-seek with my friends from the colony, and playing football and cricket or "Shaat Pata" or climbing trees to collect fruit and then share it with the other kids.
I grew up with folks who understood the value of true personal connections. Individuals who cared equally for all the residents and weren't just occupied with themselves. With acquaintances who through time have evolved into family. Amidst those who knew what it meant to truly be happy for others. And I grew up surrounded by nature, experiencing Mother Earth and smelling her wild flowers' intoxicating fragrance.
Yet presently, practically all kids are deprived of these opportunities.
Before they can even walk, the majority of my younger cousins become hooked with "Cartoons." When I tell people about my upbringing and explain that all of these memories were created in a location in the center of Dhaka City, they seem amazed because they find it hard to believe and find it impossible to relate to any of these experiences.
Necessity of these experiences:
I tried to convince my 9-year-old cousin to play with other kids last weekend, so I took him to the park. We were returning home when it suddenly began to rain. I stood there, feeling the chilly raindrops on my skin. The earthy smell took me back to the good old days, and I felt a rush of nostalgia. A hot dish of "khichuri," "achar," and "dim bhaji," the ideal rainy day supper, flashed before my eyes as I thought back on the days I spent in my colony playing in the rain with my friends, splashing around with my feet. I suddenly realized that my brother was no longer sitting next to me. I turned around to find him playing games on his phone while sitting beneath a shelter. This continued for the next hour as I sat beside him and admired the beauty of Mother Nature. In that moment, I couldn't help feeling angry about how most children from “Gen Alpha” will never really get to see things in my perspective as they seem to have a device in their hands almost as soon as they are born.
The idea that these children will likely never witness individuals living in such harmony and making time for one another as I did makes me sad. In today's world, parents are too preoccupied with their careers to spend time with their children,while children
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