Of Bangladeshi winter, pitha, and forgetting

 Source: http://naushaduzzaman.blogspot.com/2011/02/bangladeshi-food.html

In late October like this time around, the weather in Bangladesh is gradually getting cooler before finally getting really cold in December. It is at this time around as well that pitha vendors started to appear on the sides of the roads in Dhaka. Usually the pitha is made on the spot, cooked by the vendors on a pan placed over a charcoal furnace. The furnace has its own attraction, it produces warmth that like a magnet it would draw passerbys to come closer, swarm around and to its end, of course buy the pitha! Smart, isn't it? ;)

I remember that around this time last year I bought pitha almost every day. The type of pitha I always bought is called bhapa phita, a steamed type of phita made of rice flour, shredded coconut and molasses. I think it's the yummiest phita of all, especially when eaten hot in a cold weather, mmmh! I always went to the same bhapa-phita-lady since there was only one vendor among many who sold bhapa phita in the park nearby my place, that after sometime she recognized me as regular customer. She then called me small apa (sister) referring to my petite figure.

This year, even though I have seen those vendors when passing by the park but I haven't bought any single pitha yet. One of the reason is that I have never passed the park on foot as I often did last year. I was always on a rickshaw and I didn't feel like asking the rickshaw-wallah to make a stop. But today, I went home passing the park on foot. I was observing those vendors without any intention of buying when suddenly someone tapped my shoulder. I turned back, I saw a lady in sari and recognized her as my bhapa-phita-lady! She smiled to me and pointed to her bhapa phita, asking me to buy. I just smiled back.

It was really nice that my bhapa-phita-lady still recognizes and remembers me after a year, something I didn't expect. I know that people have a huge capacity to forget. Yes, people forget. And for this I am both grateful and regretful. I am grateful that oftentimes we can keep pressing on by forgetting sad experiences. I am regretful that oftentimes people also forget beautiful things in life. Like the memory of bhapa-phita eaten under the tree at a full-moon night, which now has become a distant recollection, almost surreal..