This is a memoir of my life when I was living in Bangladesh. I had moved to the United States after some months after this incident. It is my true experience on the racism that was going on against us, the Hindus of Bangladesh. We all know that Bangladesh is a country that is mostly populated by the Muslims. I myself do not think that it is bad that it happens like that. But the fact that we are not allowed to keep our beliefs and the things together will keep all the things there.
It was the Durga Puja in our village house. It was full of all the people of the village who were all happy to celebrate in this festival. But here there seemed to be some problems. It was one year after the BNP government was taken in for the governing body for the country. So there seemed to be problems for the Hindus in that village from the beginning of this and that is why we had some police in our house so that they would fix any problems that we faced when the festival was going on.
My grandfather, an old man who was about 81-84 years old was in the festival and working had to make the festival great for anyone who came to see it. But then there came two 19-21 year old boy. They were smoking in the front of the festival ground. It is all fine with the work festival until they came to the front of the God and they were all making all the ash from their cigarette to fall in front of the God. They even asked and forced my Grandfather to give them more of these smoke. We he refused they got mad at him and all of us came together to to force them get out of our house area. But they were refusing to get out of the area. Even the police were not doing anything for the work.
So they all cursed our God and saying bad words for the the family when they left. From then on we knew that this was the last for our Durga Puja and it was all done for the good for us because we knew we would not have a great time again if we try this festival again.