Starting my college days, back in the early 2000s, I was often asked a simple question: "Where do you live?" And I had to hesitate, unsure of what to say, or how to start.
"It's near Jatrabari. You can also go there through Dolairpar. The name of the area is Dania. But, it is widely known as Shanir Akhra as bus drivers call it so," was my hesitant reply in most cases.
"Is it in Dhaka?" "Oh! You come from Narayanganj or Cumilla?" "When do you start for college?" were some of the follow-up questions I had to digest.
These apparently innocent questions, in their eyes, were meant to be fun.
Some of my friends were sympathetic, though. Instead of teasing, they lamented my everyday struggles of travelling to Dhaka from remote Shanir Akhra only to attend college.
The saga of being asked "Where do you live?" continued in my university days too, but did not bother me that much. All my college friends, possibly, taught me how to handle the answer, "Shanir Akhra".
I was born and brought up here in Shanir Akhra.
On paper, there is actually no place named Shanir Akhra. The area got its name after an old Hindu temple Shri Shri Shani Asram.
We, both Shanir Akhra and I, have evolved over the years. I changed a lot during the past 20 years and so did Shanir Akhra.
When I was a teen, some two decades ago, there were no high-rises in our area; almost all houses were tin-sheds with tiny front yards. There were open spaces, rice fields, greenery, and a canal of crystal clear water.
But today, Shanir Akhra is just like Old Dhaka. High-rise buildings have replaced tin-sheds, with not a vacant inch.
Neighbours were like family. Everyone used to know everyone and all their stories. Delicious food was never enjoyed alone. People here were financially poor but rich in heart.
But now, apartment culture and urbanisation have made people glued to their three-room flats and one hardly knows one's neighbours.
So, should I be elated with an urbanised Shanir Akhra now?
I think 'no'.
The stigma of living in Dhaka's outskirts still haunts me.
In one of my job interviews, I was once asked the same old question, "Where do you live?" And, I replied, "Shanir Akhra".
The interviewers, thankfully, could recognise where Shanir Akhra was but expressed their worry about my office attendance from such a distant area.
The distance from Shanir Akhra to downtown Motijheel is, however, less than five kilometres.
* Imam Hossain, a journalist of Prothom Alo, can be reached at imam.hossain@prothomalo.com.