Banking Tips

Nasreen Sattar Head of International Sales, Standard Chartered Bank

Q1. I haven't used my account in a while. Recently I went to the bank and discovered that I cannot deposit money. The Bank Manager told me that my account has become 'inactive'. Could you please explain to me as to how I could make my account active?

A1. If you haven't conducted any transactions in your account for a certain period (time period may differ from bank to bank) the account becomes inacti~e. What you need to do is write a letter to the bank and advise them to re-activate your account so that you can start operating it. To keep the account active you need to deposit and withdraw funds. You may be asked to personally call on the branch where you maintain your account.

Q2. What is a Cancelled Cheque?
A.2 A Cancelled Cheque is a cheque that has been paid. Paid cheques can be cancelled by the bank by perforation or a stamp or by crossing out the signature of the drawer (maker) of the cheque.

Interpreter of Maladies

Dr. Nighat Ara, Psychiatrist

Q. I am a 32 year old single male. I tend to fall for the wrong pezson I think. Whenever I have a crush on someone I later find out that they are married or invol~ed. All my life I was never interested in those who showed interest in me. It is not that I do it on purpose. I think this is a problem and can't seem to find anyone as partner because of this. I am getting older and want to settle down. I will appreciate your help in this regard.

Ans: You are 32-year-old single man who is looking for a partner to settle down. You've recognised a pattern of behaviour that is not serving your purpose. If it was an isolated incidence of accidental crush on a married or engaged woman, it could have been overlooked easily.
Howe~er, it seems that your concern is over developing a pattern of falling for someone who is unavailable to you. It is probably true that attractions can not be controlled or dictated though exerting control over its further growth is a smart attitude. Decisions that match heart (romantic neeling) and brain (rational thinking) without generating guilt feelings are usually the right decisions. It would be wise to look into the common criteria in those women and find out what attracts you most.

How realistic it is to expect them to be totally free with those quali|ies? People usually feel attrac|ed to someone of their age rangm (exceptions are always there!) and women of your age range are more likely to be married in our society The romantic within is a wonderful part of us- the dreamer, idealistic and creative part of us. It is important to get in touch with your inner romantic part and also to have it in balance. Love is the best emotion humans can ever experience. If you are searching for that ecstasy probably it is worth spending some time and energy after that.

However, life is not just a dress rehearsal (we have only one life to live unless you believe in resurrection!) and if you go on casting wrong person for the wrong role, it will be a sure recipe for disaster. It doesn't mean that you have to dump your romantic part or disown it, just reorganise yourself to succeed. "Tap dancers"- are the people who prefer superficial relationship over intimate ones and deceive themselves by rationalising their unique situation (can't find an appropriate partner!).

It is easier to deny the undmrlying fear than to face it. Social stigma do not allow men to accept their weakness (e.g. "men do not cry") and eventually they have to come up with a mask or facade just to avoid that social pressure and inner conflict. This leads them to a dysfunctional behaviour, which is a kind of self-sabotagm too. I can't resist sharing a xersonal experience here with yo}. When I used to work at drug aldiction treatment centre at Dhaka, one of my client's mother was begging her heroin addicted son to substitute his addiction with women.

When I first heard it my jaw dropped in {urprise though it didn't take me long to realise this social attitude is how deeply rooted. It is really important to be in touch with your inner romantic part to develop a loving boundary that would protect you from dysfunctional relationship with unavailable people. So, hang on with your best part and reorganise youzself to make healthier choices.

Seminar on Primary Trauma Care held

On the day of the grenade attack on Awami League leader Sheikh Hasina, the wounded, those who came to help them and the doctors in hospital emergency room realised how the knowledge on primary trauma care and disaster management is severely lacking in Bangladesh. To shed some light on the issue and provide primary medical training, a seminar was held in BSMMU (PG) from November 27 to 29.

A team of four experts from Primary Trauma Care Foundation conducted the training session participated by doctors and medical students. World Federation of Societies of Anaesthesia sponsored the programme.

"Developing countries have very little infrastructural support to offer proper trauma care in a crisis situation. We are here to train some doctors who will later carry on with awareness programme," cited Christian Medical Collage Hospital fellow Professor Rebecca Jacob. She suggested that people in the government and municipality needs to be alert in the area of safety issues.

The ideas of better roads, safe areas for pedestrians, safe zones for cyclists, and the use of seatbelts should be introduced to general people, opined the experts. Experts have recognised the need for improving resources as another important aspect.

"A change in the attitude and thought and training for medical, paramedical, and the lay people of Bangladesh is needed to reduce the casualties," Jacob added. The training session was also attended by Dr Caroline Grange from UK, Dr Ranjith Ellawallah from Sri Lanka and from Pakistan Dr Mahmud Aurangzeb.

In the training sessions the four members of the team showcased case scenarios, and how to handle the injured properly. Main objective was to help deliver proper trauma care using whatever resources available in Bangladesh and how to utilise it at its best.

"After any mishap transporting an injured is a major problem in Bangladesh. Usually the bystanders take the injured for proper care in the hospitals. Out of a lack of awareness they carry the injured in an awkward manner. If the police officer near by, ambulance drivers, or the general people receive some training on primary trauma care it will mean saving some lives, says Dr Lutful Aziz, Bangladesh co-ordinator of the training programme.

"We need media support to carry on with the awareness programme," he added.

By Shahnaz Parveen

BY THE WAY

More weight loss solutions

Did you know that eating in dim light increases the amount of food intake? Eating in bright light inhibits your appetite. If you want to burn fat effectively, then eliminate wheat and flour based products for the time being. And yes, that definitely includes rice and bread. Being a "mache bhaate bangali" it might seem too hard but you can at least give it a try. One final word of advice: don't overdo fruit. Eat two a day maximum, only the low-sugar ones and high-fibre variety. Apples, pears, and plums are all good choices. Bananas are not. For now, fruit should be eaten alone or with something light like nuts or a little cheese.

 

UNDER A DIFFERENT SKY

Left behind but not forgotten

You stood in a shy corner overshadowed by laughter, chatter and amidst the odour of make-up and perfume. Exulting the odour of the foreign fragrances and cosmetics our Mothers aited for us, the-obedient-school-girls to walk out from our classes married to a bag full of homework after school. They always came early, the Mothers, looking dashing and with a bag load of stories to compare, contrast and compete with each other. We the school girls walked out with minds full of lessons and teen-thoughts, our tired bodies followed our Mothers' lively and jubilant ones, you stood and watched and never came forward.

It was during the days when my Mother didn't come to pick me up after school, the days she didn't want to join the parade of chitter-chatter and made-up features when I spoke to you. Or did I ever? I can't remember.

Those days I would cross through all the other mothers and school-mates to hop into our tiny green Volkswagen. And before I hopped in, I would stop and walk the few steps towards you.

You, always looked the same, your white Punjabi washed pallid to every thread your khaki pants running on their last legs, your grey beard nicely trimmed, and your eyes always looking away to hide those few strands of tears which I would always mistakenly put my eyes on. Your spine bended a notch deeper every time I would di{cover another s|ored tear in yo}r old and too-seen eyes. Your watery eyes were no match for your stern face, the face that told a thousand sad stories, all ending with betrayal or berea~ement, and the stories that brought you in front of me in your mid-60s, hiding between the girl-school's grey gate and yellow walls, to beg but not knowing how to.

You looked disgusted by the beggars who cried and sang their way into a few Taka. Almost as if they took their profession with pride, rolling in dirt, acting perfectly pathetic for pity and sympathy. They made you cringe even more, and I know you cursed yourself for being one them, not by appearance but by need. Even after watching them day-in-day-out you never really learnt to open your palms to beg, you always kept your hands locked making sure they don't come forward pleading, asking for mercy.

I crossed you by hundreds of times before I discovered you. I wonder if I was the only one who did. I will never know. After ignoring your presence hundred-some-times busy with my girlie glee one day finally I found you, like the way someone discovers a new mole in their body or a half-grown tree in their backyard planted by an unknown someone at an unknown time. I didn't approach you, why would I, I thought at first you were someone's grandfather, or an old unmarried uncle, I thought you had come to fetch your niece or granddaughter from school. But no little school girls looked your way, you stood therm bent and full of self-hatred for standing where you did. However you also couldn't leave, you were the struggle between poverty and self-respect, the war that never ended but wounded you repeatedly.

It must have been the few strands of simplicity and precise intuition which I still carried around then that made me realise who you were; or did I just happen to see one of your hidden tear and recognise the few-days-old-hunger on your face which made you look needier |han the rolling beggars on the {treet.

The next day I had given you 20 taka, and the day after 20 taka more. It wasn't much, but I thought it would buy you a plate of rice if nothing el{e. We both did |hese exchange so carefully, making sure no one saw me giving you the small supports and saw you giving me your face full of appreciation. And I believe no one did. You walked away with the few taka I could then afford to spare and I drove off feeling lighter, the way a pampered, ind}lged girl feels after contributing in some humanitarian way.

It continued for a year and some. You and I were in a bond of secrecy, I wantel to know more about your life, here you ate and if you had a home, but I never dared to ask, there was something steely and sacred about us, I knew I shouldn't say anything to break our trend.

I was leaving for a vacation to USA, I didn't know the vacation would turnout to be a permanent exile, if I knew I would have told you, I would have asked you for an address or at least a name. All I did was give you some extra-cash, you looked awed taking a note of 500 taka but the next moment you adjusted yourself to look oblivious.

Did you look for me when days and months went by but I with my big book bag never landed in front of you with an assurance of continuity? How disappointed where you when you realised I would never come back? Were you again discovered by a pair of curious-teen-eyes? And if so after how many months and how many tears? Do you still remember my nameless expressive silent face…I still remember yours.

By Iffat Nawaz