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I wish I could take you to Bangladesh, where I was born and spent my childhood and youth. You would find the life much as it was fifteen years ago, stretched sleepily across the arms of many streets, many rivers, and neighborhood packed with oceans of people. Dhaka was the city where I grew up. I have returned there, in later years, many times and tried to discover what I had left behind. How can I deny the imprint of those very busy streets and its vibrant colors, rain washed afternoons in monsoon, the boats in the rippling water, the setting sun in near horizons and languorous days stretching endlessly, the smell of the earth or the sight of a street kid’s black eye reflecting the infinite arc of the universe?