'আই নিউজ বিডি' অ্যাপ
That fading manuscript of the 1990s has emerged today as a living epic in the mirror of our memories. When those bygone days—hidden behind the intense glare of modernity and the illusion of digital screens—flash before us in black-and-white imagery, a world of absolute, mechanical-free peace knocks on the depths of our hearts. Looking back today from a turn in history three decades later, it becomes evident that we have not merely passed the time; rather, we have sacrificed an authentic civilization to embrace a mechanical artificiality.
মার্কেটপ্লেস পণ্যসমূহ (Marketplace)
The Classical Beauty of the Eternal Dawn
A rural morning in the 1990s was a spiritual communion between humans and nature. Back then, as soon as the first light of dawn broke, the rhythmic sound of the farmer’s plow and yoke would harmonize with the chirping of birds. The brutal clutches of mechanical civilization had not yet pierced and bled the heart of rural Bengal. As the farmer stepped onto the dirt path with a pair of oxen and a wooden plow, brushing aside the blanket of fog, an intimate joy of creation began. In those days, farming was not just a means of sustenance; it was a profound spiritual devotion.
During the harvest season, when farmers walked in rows along the narrow ridges of the fields, carrying bundles of paddy on their shoulders, they looked like living sculptures from afar. Children playing hide-and-seek in the haystacks and the thumping sound of threshing paddy in the courtyards were inseparable folk festivals of rural Bengal. A housewife skillfully milking a cow in the morning, or watching over the paddy laid out to dry in the sun—all together created a bustling yet peaceful environment. Livestock rearing was not just a sign of solvency back then; it was a deep emotional bond with the members of the family.
Social Solidarity: Where Souls Gathered
The greatest strength of rural life in the 1990s was the genuine empathy among people. Elders would gather in the spacious courtyards of the neighborhood, where stories of the joys and sorrows of neighbors held more weight than politics. The satisfaction of going to the village market (haat) with coins painstakingly saved in a clay bank to buy jilapi or kodma (traditional sweets) is hard to find today, even when spending thousands of takas in air-conditioned supershops.
The primary means of communication was the post office and letters. Travel was slow—perhaps walking or covering mile after mile on a rickshaw-van—but people possessed immense patience and unquestionable faith in one another. That tranquil journey from one village to another on a sailboat across the river is now nothing but a memory.
The Open Sky of Childhood and Lost Entertainment
While the current generation holds the colorful screens of smartphones or tablets in their hands, childhood in the 1990s was spent in dusty fields and the muddy waters of the monsoon. As afternoon approached, village boys would immerse themselves in the joy of catching fish in muddy waters. The thrill of teenagers splashing amidst water hyacinths in the overflowing monsoon waters, or catching catfish with bare hands in ditches, sounds like a fairy tale in today's virtual world of artificial video games.
The Evolution of Crime: From Traditional to Digital Fraud
With the passage of time, just as the standard of living has risen, a revolutionary change has occurred in the nature of crime and criminal psychology. In the 1990s, crime was primarily bound by 'geographical and physical' limits. Theft, burglary, or robbery were the main crimes, requiring the physical presence of the criminal. The target was tangible wealth.
However, today's world of crime is an invisible illusion. Criminals no longer commit burglaries in the dead of night; instead, they empty your bank account in broad daylight with a single touch on a smartphone screen. Cybercrime is a global pandemic today. Financial fraud, hacking, malicious propaganda on social media, and digital deception are the primary weapons of modern crime. Previously, a crime would affect only a single family; today, a technology-driven crime has the power to destabilize an entire nation or society.
Consumerism and the Cost of Modernity
Sociological analysis shows that as affluence has increased, 'relative deprivation' among people has also grown. In the 1990s, people's lifestyles were frugal, meaning they did not have skyrocketing demands. However, today’s hyper-consumerist mindset is pushing the younger generation down the dark path of quick money making. As family structures shifted from joint to nuclear, the comforting presence of social eldership and moral discipline over children disappeared. The busy schedules of parents combined with the unrestricted access of children to technology has imprisoned them in a lonely world.
The Roots: The Ultimate Sanctuary
The rural life of the 1990s taught us a great philosophy of being content with little. Today, we are passengers on the digital highway, artificial intelligence plays in our pockets, but the profound peace of life has evaporated like camphor. Those intimately familiar rural scenes repeatedly warn us today—if progress means becoming detached from our roots, then that progress is hollow.
We must indeed welcome the blessings of technology, but it must not drive the final nail into the coffin of genuine brotherhood, morality, and values. Our dirt paths have indeed been paved with pitch today, but the emotional distance between the people walking those paths is now much greater. The essence of these black-and-white memories carries a timeless message for our generation—love humans, not mechanization; nurture nature, not artificiality. Let the smell of the rooted soil and the touch of human hands be the true identity of our future world.
Reporter: Rota: Professor Md. Zakir Hossain
Special Representative, Senior Sub-Editor & Columnist, The Dainik Chandpur Kantho.
Information and Research Secretary, Chandpur District BNP.
