I had booked us a room at the Westin Europa and Regina, just opposite San Salute on the Grand Canal. Our friends at the Westin Dhaka found out and arranged for us to be given the best of the three penthouse suites – thank you Stephane
and team!

• May you live in interesting times
• May you come to the attention of those in authority
• May you find what you are looking for

Those of you who are burdened by insomnia or lead sad lives may well have browsed through this site and viewed my career history. Thinking about it, do I mean “career” or should I say “employment”? “Career” suggests a degree of planning and organisation that I cannot feel comfortable in owning although I wish I could. It is, perhaps, not without significance that, in The West Wing terms, I have always wanted to be Leo whilst fearing that I am Josh!

But enough of these ramblings, I need to write a proper blog!

There is no shortage of things which set this vast, eternally surprising country apart – strawberry-flavoured cream cheese, valet parking and a lack of respect for the usefulness of the kettle are three that spring to mind. But the greatest difference of all is surely the fact that the constitution here guarantees the right to the pursuit of happiness. That is a brilliant piece of phrase-making, because it hints that the dour, crotchety old revolutionaries who wrote the Bill of Rights knew in their hearts that happiness is as elusive as a moose in hunting season. You are not guaranteed to go to your eternal reward with a smile on your face, but you are encouraged, even inspired, to try. So this is a place of dreamers and the idea of that great pursuit lies at the heart of the American dream.

It is an idea that drew plenty of members of my own family here in the past – even though most of them went straight from the boat to a hole in the road with a shovel in their hands. They came, in part, because the present in America was better than the past they left behind, but mainly because they were inspired to believe that the future could be better still. The whole idea of the American dream after all is unique – nobody talks about the Irish or German dream, and if there is a British dream then no-one has told me about it yet and I am running out of time. The problem was, of course, that throughout most of American history the rights to that dream and the possibilities of that pursuit were essentially confined to white people.

Nobody ever quite said “all men, except slaves, were created equal” but that is the way it was. This country was always a curious coalition between immigrants who came in hope, and immigrants who came in chains. I knew all this of course, in the way you do know the things you read – but Campaign 2008 brought the issue to life in a rather startling and rather humbling way. It made it easier to ask black Americans about the past and easier for them to tell.

At an Obama rally in a southern state a few months back, with thousands of people packed into a high school gymnasium, I met an African-American man who did his best to bring the cold facts of history to life. It was at a difficult moment during the primary season for Obama, when it was still far from certain that he would win the Democratic nomination, let alone the presidency. The man had tears in his eyes when he talked about the possibility of Obama winning the White House but he was convinced that it would not – could not – happen. He told me when he was very young he was mystified that, although they lived right beside the seaside, their occasional visits to the beach involved long bus journeys past miles of perfectly serviceable sand and sea. Even days out in the sunshine were segregated. His family was confined to a rock-strewn beach for blacks. When he was a little older, in 1960, he went down to the local polling station with his granddad, because the old man wanted him to remember the day he voted for Jack Kennedy. Except he did not, because a posse of local white men was waiting at the local polling station to make sure he did not dare to go in. And, of course, he remembered the lunch counters he was not allowed to eat at, the hotels he could only enter through the servant’s doors and the simple lack of respect and equality in every eye contact with white folks.

He put it all with an eloquence that I cannot match, but he was not bitter and he accepted that America is changing and that young people do not have the racial attitudes of previous generations. He just did not think it was changing fast enough for him to see a black president before he died. Oddly enough, that was the night I started to think he might be wrong. The wait for Obama was as long as always, the security both overbearing and chaotic and the local high school band played a version of Signed, Sealed, Delivered that Stevie Wonder would not have recognised.

But when he spoke, Obama was brilliant – his ability to conjure a phrase, capture a crowd and articulate a vision touched with magic. I thought of that night again this week, when Obama spoke not to a high school gymnasium but to a crowd of a quarter of a million and to the wider world beyond them.

He is a complex figure, a child of a white mother and a black father who in his very essence draws together two of the longest threads in America’s national tapestry and has used his own life story to persuade Americans that hope is audacious rather than foolish. We have no idea yet if he will be a good president when he sets about the task of shaping history rather than making it. One of his most important jobs now is to protect the constitution but the truth is that merely by winning the White House he has expanded the scope of its happy promise and set the boundaries of that dream a little wider.

Before I tell you about the gig, let me tell you a little about the charity that the band supports, the Jaago Foundation. The aim of the Foundation is to provide children from poor families with education of international standard through the medium of English. By making students adept in communicating in English, JAAGO believes that it can bring about a sustainable development in their lives through education. All the children enrolled in the school are from families, where the average daily income is below the international indicator of poverty of less than US $1. The children of these families would otherwise have no scope for any sort of formal education. The Foundation is also trying to develop medical facilities and support for parents. Please have a look at their web site and consider sponsoring a child.

Back to tonight and the venue is the Roll Express cafe (Road 2, House 34, Banani) where the interior is rather more clinical than the last venue but, outside where the band (for that is what I have decided they are) is playing, there is a very pleasant terrace with a covered pagoda for the performers. It is a balmy evening with gentle breeze from the (electric) fans. I have uploaded two clips of the venue and performance but my recording abilities are not brilliant so let me distract you first with Mitul’s photo!

The opening numbers were the same as last week but, with more space and in the open air, the delivery is more subtle. This is a full performance lasting for more than two hours although time certainly does not drag. Perhaps I am biased but I just loved Mitul’s performance although the lead singer is also extremely talented.

Laura, who sings with a band called “Bangladesh” (sadly, they don’t have a web site), joined the band in their second set and delighted the audience with an eclectic choice of songs ranging from John Denver’s “You fill up my senses”, through Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive” to Tracey Chapman’s “Give me one reason to stay”.

For those with laterally thinking minds, the band played what could be a theme song for NDI and its staffers – the Eagles’ “Hotel California”. If you can’t work out why, it’s because of the last part of the lyrics, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”! There was also a song for Bangladesh as we approach the December elections – the Scorpions’ “Winds of change”.

Mitul is a talented young man (I know he is because he told me so) who is working with the National Democratic Institute for International Affairs (NDI) coordinating their election observation here – we are due to have a general election on 18 December. His band, group, or however I am supposed to refer to it, is called Radioactive and they play “pure rock from the 80s and 90s and some hard rock”. Those of you who know me will already be raising your eyebrows but bear with me – they are about to perform!

So how was the performance? I was won over at the beginning by their playing a song I actually recognised, Lionel Richie’s Hello. The second number was also one I know, and love,  Bryan Adam’s Everything I Do – not that I really think of either of those as rock! It just kept getting better and better and I have no intention of reciting the entire play list but, suffice it to say, if that was rock, I am a fan. If it was not rock then I can only say that I am in awe of Radioactive’s musical interpretations.

Did I have fun? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the music? Almost completely. Would I do it again? Probably and the hesitation is a function of my antiquity rather than any failing on the part of Radioactive – I just wish it was possible to have music played at a level that does not induce bass vibrations throughout my body!

Cuppa Coffee Club, by the way, is a great place to hang out. the menu is reasonably priced, the staff are courteous and helpful, and it is only one block away from the Westin. Gazing round, as I enjoyed the music, I realised that I was older than almost everyone else by about 20 years but it didn’t matter, to me or them, and that is why it is my favourite coffee house in Dhaka.

“Diwali is usually described as the celebration of good triumphing over evil and that is certainly one of the themes of the Ramayan, the Hindu text relating the story of Rama and his wife, Sita. But, the actual celebration of Rama defeating the tyrant, Ravana, and rescuing Sita from captivity was held three weeks ago in the festival of Dussehra. Diwali itself commemorates the day that Rama and Sita return to Ayodhya to be reunited with their family and the citizens of the kingdom after an absence of fourteen years.

I think it’s significant that Diwali has become the more important religious event for Hindus. There may be historical and cultural reasons for this, but perhaps what Diwali symbolises – homecoming and reunion – has more resonance than military and heroic victories. The emotions of homecoming are sweet, yet often poignant. They are the fulfilment of deep longing, but are often mixed with nostalgia and regrets.

The Ramayan story has many facets, but at its spiritual heart is how relationships are characterised, even stimulated and deepened, by the contrary emotions arising from the circumstances of separation and reunion. One Vaishnava text compares these to the two banks of a river. Sometimes, we’re on one side enjoying being with our loved-ones and sometimes we are on the other bank feeling loss and pain. But, whether we’re on the bank of reunion or on the bank of separation, the river of love keeps flowing.

The separation that Rama and Sita underwent is taken as a reminder that love need not rely on physical presence or proximity. It depends on consciousness, affectionate remembrance and loving thoughts. Often, our pangs of separation are assuaged by a sweet reunion. But, there are situations when reunion on the physical plane is no longer possible. It is then, that, we may take solace that the river of love can continue to flow – and flow ever stronger.”  © BBC 2008

Inspired and sustained with those thoughts, I ventured forth this evening to visit a couple of Dhaka temples. The sense of celebration that was all around me could not lift my sadness that I was in Dhaka whilst Vin was with our family in Fiji so it was good that my friend Dipu offered to accompany me.

For Bengali Hindus, Diwali is a relatively minor festival with Durgha Puja being the main event but, nonetheless, there were plenty of people around. Unfortunately, my intrepid Dhaka Dweller flew out that night to attend a confernce in Athens and so I cannot refer you to an articulate and informative blog. The  photographs that follow are mine but Dipu took some rather better ones that I recommend looking at.

Back at the hotel, I tucked into the traditional Diwali sweets that Dhaka Dweller had given me that morning. To be fair to myself (who else will be?), I doidn’t eat them all as I had shared them at the office in afternoon!

People thronged around and children played as the sun shone and children played but enough of this, here are the pictures:

Mind you, there’s always time for a little bit of shopping even on the busiest sightseeing tour!

For now, I am sitting in the departure lounge at Dhaka airport waiting for my airborne chariot to wing me home to Vin…

Tonight, many of the team in our office celebrated iftar together – usually everyone is dashing homeward from 3.30 – and you can see us breaking our (well, their) fast in these photographs.