Winter in Dhaka wasn’t just a season; it was a feeling. A crisp breeze would weave through the streets, carrying the scent of fresh pitha and the chatter of street vendors. The afternoons were bathed in golden sunlight, fading into early sunsets that signaled the start of long, cozy evenings. There was no biting cold, no snowstorms, no layers upon layers of clothing, just the gentle embrace of cooler air, a welcome break from the relentless summer heat.
For me, winter meant gathering under a shared quilt with family, sipping on steaming cups of cha and watching our favourite TV dramas together. It was the time of year when neighbours lingered a little longer outside, exchanging stories as children played. It was a season that brought people closer, not because they needed warmth from the cold, but because winter itself was warm, wrapped in traditions, food and the laughter of loved ones.
Badminton under the evening lights
Every winter evening, without fail, our street became the neighbourhood’s meeting point for games of badminton. The makeshift court, set up under the dim glow of streetlights, was always bustling with life. Kids and adults alike took turns swinging their rackets, their laughter ringing through the crisp evening air. Occasionally, an enthusiastic uncle would jump in, making the game even more interesting.
On the sidelines, the aunties would sit together, wrapped in their shawls, gossiping about everything from local politics to the latest family drama. The uncles sipped their tea, nodding along to discussions about cricket and business. The scent of steaming cups of cha and freshly fried snacks like shingara and piyaju lingered in the air, completing the picture of a perfect winter evening.
The sweetness of pitha
A Dhakkaiya winter is incomplete without pitha, traditional rice cakes that are synonymous with the season. Every household had its own way of preparing these delicacies, but the love and effort that went into making them remained the same. From the delicate, flower-like shapes of nakshi pitha to rolls of pathishapta pitha, filled with jaggery and coconut, to the soft, warm delight of bhapa pitha — every bite was a reminder of home.
My mother and grandmother would spend hours perfecting each pitha, their hands moving deftly as they shaped and steamed the treats. I would sit close by, eagerly waiting for the first batch to be ready, my fingers itching to steal one straight off the plate. The best part wasn’t just eating them, it was the process of making them, the shared stories and laughter that came with every batch.
Wedding bells and festivities
December in Dhaka doesn’t just mean winter; it means weddings. Winter is the wedding season in Bangladesh and almost every day of the month is filled with one celebration or another. Invitations pile up, each promising an evening of extravagant feasts, lively music and dazzling fashion.
The food was always a highlight — plates piled high with fragrant biryani, kebabs and my favorite beef curry. The weddings themselves were grand affairs, where vibrant saris and sherwanis sparkled under fairy lights and the air was filled with music and the laughter of guests. As a child, I looked forward to these weddings not just for the food, but for the chance to dress up in beautifully embroidered outfits.
Longing for home
Now, thousands of miles away, as I trudge through snow-covered streets, I find myself longing for those Dhakkaiya winters; the badminton matches, the steaming cups of cha, the aroma of freshly made pitha and the joy of wedding celebrations. Canadian winters may have their own charm, but nothing will ever compare to the simple, heartwarming beauty of winter in Dhaka.
As I sip my tea on a frosty evening, wrapped in layers upon layers of clothing, I close my eyes and let my memories take me back to the warmth of home. No matter where I go, a Dhakkaiya winter will always be my favourite season.
Recent Comments