What's causing our intellectual chats to disappear?

Once upon a time, we'd gather at the market. Just like a flock of pigeons sat on tin rooftops and listened to 'bak-bak-kum' songs during all noon, people used to immerse themselves in gossip during leisure. Our minds soared during these chats. Buddhadeb Bose said in his famous essay 'Adda', 'Does the exact synonym of Adda exist in any other language of the world? Not being a linguist, I can say no. Because there is no mood for chat in any other country, or even if there is a mood, there is no suitable atmosphere. The people of other countries lecture, joke, argue, and pass the night away, but do not hang out.'

Indeed, it is. Nowhere else can you find such vibrancy as Adda (Gossip). Equality reigns here; any deviation, and the conversation fades. No judgment in this chat; say what you want. There's no sense of limitation; it's fluid and boundless. Everything's up for debate in Adda, from mosquitoes to kings. It's the best school and the best university for many.

Buddhadeb Bose wrote, "Since childhood, I've been enamored with Adda. My chest trembles to go to the meeting, and I run away in the name of the party. But Chatting! It's my lifeline; without it, I don't feel alive. Adda has shaped me more than books. Conversations vary with age and profession; farmers, laborers, weavers, blacksmiths, and potters chat differently from students, teachers, intellectuals, poets, and artists."

Over time, chat venues have evolved significantly. In the 1950s and 1960s, Dhaka University's Madhu's Canteen was a hub for students, teachers, poets, writers, artists, and politicians. Post-partition, it became a focal point for art, literature, and politics in Dhaka. Professor Rafiqul Islam wrote, "stating that plans for key events were often made there. However, it faced destruction from police and EPR forces due to their scrutiny."

After independence, Sharif Mia's canteen became a popular spot for Dhaka University students. Afsan Chowdhury wrote in an article, "The contributions of Sharif Mia's canteen are often overlooked. He proudly claims that he learned more there than at Dhaka University."

Not only poets, literary artists, students, and teachers, but ordinary working people also enjoyed the conversation. After work, they'd gather in tea shops or under the tree shades to chat about daily life, share joys, sorrows, tensions, and sometimes politics. However, after the 1980s, this warning was noticed in various tea shops, hotels, and even buses: 'Political talk is prohibited'.

When we think of the chat, Manna Dey's famous song about the Coffee House resonates in hearts: "The chatter of the coffee house is no more today... No more today. Where have the golden afternoons been lost?" The Coffee House is the most famous hangout place in Kolkata. Kolkata's Coffee House was a hub for poets and writers. Many Bangladeshis may not have been lucky enough to go there, but until the 1990s, no urban, educated youth would be found who did not howl and writhe in his chest after listening to this song. Many of today's generation might not grasp its meaning because they lack such experiences. So what? Do today's youth not hang out? Are university campuses, cafeterias, tea shops, and street corners empty?

Those who are conscious must have already noticed that wherever five-seven young people are sitting together, they all have a strange device (a mobile) in hand. Instead of calling closer, it actually distances our relationships. Today's children play video games on that strange device! However, everyone is not the same. Somewhere, there must still be a lot of chatter. Common people's common chats are still there, surely. But where else are our intellectual chats?

Aziz Super Market in Dhaka was once one of the centers of thought and conversation. Since the eighties, this chat has developed around bookstores. There is no one in the art-literature arena who would not participate in this chat. Chatting continued throughout the day, and in the evening, the first and second floors of Aziz Market were crowded. Seniors got seats in bookstores, juniors mostly had to stand, and some in groups sat on two- to three-story stairs. On the ground floor of Aziz Market, there were shops selling cassette-CDs of a few songs. One of these was 'Sure Mela'. Classic or modern popular songs were played all the time in Surer Mela.

Since the 1980s, Aziz Super Market in Dhaka has been a hub of thought and conversation, especially around bookstores. There is no one in the art-literature arena who has not participated in this chat. Chatting lasted all day, with the first and second floors crowded in the evening. Seniors got seats in bookstores, juniors mostly had to stand, and some in groups sat on stairs. The ground floor had shops selling cassette-CDs, including 'Surer Mela', where classic and modern popular songs were played continuously.

Then, at one point, clothing shops emerged in Aziz Market. Bookstores began to pop up and were replaced by clothing stores. Along with that, chat also started to decrease. Poets, writers, and artists used to chat in front of the fine arts in the photo market. In the evening, hundreds of people were present at the photo market. This chat was ruined by planning. All the shops in the photo market and gates were closed. There was, however, a lot of cannabis smoke.

Few know of the quaint hangout for entertainment journalists at Kasem Chattar in Fakirapool. It blossomed in the mid-1990s at the Shantinagar intersection. Emerging theater directors and actors joined in. Now, it's gone. Some shifted to Shilpakala Academy, while most gathered at the Moghbazar intersection.

The poet-writer hangout moved from Aziz Market and Chhobir Hut to Concord Tower Square in Kantaban. A major book market has emerged there. This reflects Dhaka's current intellectual scene. Additionally, the chatter at TSC is scattered and chaotic, with university students mingling with outsiders, making it hard to distinguish them.

Once, poets and writers frequented the famous hangout at Beauty Boarding in old Dhaka, popularized by figures like Shahid Qadri and Shamsur Rahman in the 1960s and 1970s. While Beauty Boarding remains, the vibrant conversations of the past are no longer present, despite the continued presence of young people strolling in the beautiful green square in front of the old yellow building.

Adda means more than just meeting or clamoring. Although there are no formal rules, there are some unwritten rules. Even casual conversations touch on specific topics, often leading to serious debates on art, literature, and politics. Nowadays, this happens to some extent in Concord.

Capital residents are unaware of hangouts elsewhere in the country. There's likely still chatter on various college and university campuses, but what are they discussing? Can there be creative discussions without books, literary magazines, or film movements? Where's the news? The old building of Vishwa Sahitya Kendra used to buzz with conversation, but now, despite its expansion, chatter is less evident. While people gather on the 9th-floor roof to eat and share stories, the lively chat atmosphere is lacking. Occasionally, small groups gather on the streets below, especially in the evening, when poets and writers come together after a day's work.

The main focus of this writing is mainly around Dhaka's Adda. Several socio-political, economic, and technical factors contribute to the decline of Dhaka's chat culture. Severe traffic congestion and the rise of social media accessibility are major factors. Poets and writers in Dhaka struggle to meet due to traffic. Meanwhile, social media platforms like Facebook facilitate virtual connections, diminishing the urge for face-to-face meetings. Despite some chats on Facebook, they lack depth and continuity.

Twenty-five to thirty years ago, people gathered at Aziz Market without knowing when friends would arrive. Not everyone had a mobile phone or could afford to call on T&T phones. They relied on guesswork, luck, or trust in a friend to meet. Aziz Market was the only meeting place; if someone didn't show up there, they were hard to find.

Maybe no one has eaten all afternoon, there is no money in the pocket, and a dry mouth hangs around Aziz Market's balcony, unable to even find a friend for a cigarette or tea. Then, meeting that lifelong friend—ah!—can that feeling be expressed in words? No need to ask; they'd understand just by looking at a friend's face. "Haven't you eaten yet? Let's have some rice first."

Those who haven't shared a plate of rice with three friends for just Tk 20 won't grasp that era. Sometimes, aspiring poets and writers eagerly awaited meetings with their more experienced counterparts. It wasn't just about absorbing wisdom; the seasoned writers understood that these youths had journeyed from various corners of the country to pursue literary ambitions. Many lacked stable employment, and mere meals weren't enough to ease their concerns, often requiring assistance even with bus fare for their journey back home.

Where have those days gone? Those heartfelt conversations? Nowadays, everyone is caught up in their own busyness, speaking with restraint. The deep, soulful connection seems to have vanished. And now, there's factionalism, though it did exist before; it just didn't feel as pronounced.

Meaningful conversations decline not due to space but to intellectual disengagement. Busy schedules, traffic, and social media are scapegoats; the root cause is our intellectual poverty.

Art and literature still thrive in Dhaka. Dhaka is still the capital of art and literature. But where is the art? Hundreds of books, plays, and movies can be counted with numbers. In terms of quality, how many good books, plays, and movies can be found at the end of the year? Where is the discussion about the production of art and literature?'

Everywhere, people work in isolation, lacking unity. Suborna Mostafa, a renowned Bangladeshi actor, said in an interview, "Once they knew footballers, they were friends with journalists and writers, and they used to hang out with them regularly. Can any actor now say he has a literary friend? God knows whether they can name some poets and writers of recent times.

The lack of intellectual practice is causing this disconnect. We must explore its roots. Just as conversations are decreasing due to a lack of intellectual practice, it is also true that intellectuality is decreasing due to a lack of conversations. University studies and reading aren't the sole paths to intellectual creativity. It's hard to convey this to those unfamiliar with open dialogue.

Chatting with the right people opens up the universe in front of you instantly. From magical realism and surrealism to Marxism and neoliberalism, where else do you learn other than greengrocers? And if you sit and learn, then you will forget that in two days. You have to teach. But where can you find students for free? You have to find your place in a chat.

Hanging out isn't just about enjoying life and fostering creativity; it holds social, political, and psychological significance. Many revolutions have sprung from hangouts. The modern state discourages intellectual engagement and aims to create division to prevent resistance against injustice. Your isolation makes you vulnerable to capitalism and lawlessness. The state, controlled by corporations, offers alliances in superficial gatherings but lacks meaningful conversation.

To hang out, you have to go to a place where there is no good place to stand and no good food around. But with an outstretched hand, you will find a friend who will take you in one fell swoop to a corner of the universe with which you had no prior acquaintance. And once you go to that end, you can never return to your previous world!

Author: Fiction writer & Journalist