Where Blue Birds Fly, by Homayra Adiba

An empty corner under the sky, all the houses of the city have it. Some nourish it and some abandon it. When I started making photographs on different rooftops all over Dhaka city, I never thought I could collect so much of memories besides the photographs.

The plants on the abandoned bathtub, the giant antenna, the broken Ludo board, graffiti & little trees are all part of our lives in this city.

When I was little, I used to go to the rooftop the most. Back then people were more attached to it. Having grown up in a joint family, I had many cousins. We had our secret place, where we used to meet, where we used to play hide and seek. My uncle would make kites for us to fly, when there were no kites, we would still fly poly bags tying with a thin rope. Most of the time we stayed there playing and counting stars. And sometimes climbing the little guava tree that was planted by my dad.

When there was a power cut, we used to get ecstatic only because we could bunk the studies and go to the rooftop, elders used to put sheets on the floor, we would sing, rhyme and sometimes listen to stories about ghosts and what not. In winter, the rooftop was the place to cook and arrange family picnics. Monsoon was never boring, when me, my mother and sisters could sing and dance under the rain.

The buildings of old part of the city is more close to each other. One could just visit these roofs and climb unknown buildings. The people here spend their spare times at the rooftop in the evening. I ask for water, as I climb five to six rooftops a day. (Needs more elaboration) However, in new Dhaka, I do not have to ask for water, because there are elevators! But even if I had to, I couldn’t, because there are hardly people on rooftops. We need an appointment first to get into the building. In most cases, it’s a ‘no’.

The rooftops are tiled and empty. You get to see buildings of the same size and shape, standing side by side. I have seen the changes, the lives on this rooftops. Every rooftop has its own story, own corner and its traces of life.