Looking for answers: Two Scandinavian women search for their roots in Bangladesh

She was sitting in a hotel lounge in Khulna when I first saw her. Her face and her dark, curly hair made her seem familiar; like someone I run into often, on the streets. As we smiled at each other, I tried to say something in Bangla, before I quickly remembered that she speaks only Danish. 

Dressed in a lavender salwar-kameez, Asha Wellis looked as Bangali to me as my aunt or my sister, or perhaps someone from the extended family. And I was not wrong, because this Danish woman was adopted from Bangladesh in 1976 when she was only a toddler.

In 1975, she was living at the Nirmal Hriday Shishu Bhaban, an orphanage in Shonadanga. From there, she was sent to Dhaka and eventually to her adoptive parents in Denmark. 

Earlier this month, when she and her husband Mogens Falk went to the Missionaries of Charity office in Old Dhaka's Islampur, they found additional information on her origins. The findings left them emotional, and deeply intrigued. 

"Found in the street by Dolly Mondol, Railway road station, Dolkhola, Khulna"- this small piece of information was written in blue ink, on a yellowing paper. 

For 50 years, Asha did not know anything, and now, finally, she had a name. Maybe Dolly Mondal was her mother, or a relative - she did not know. It gave her great 'asha'- which means hope in Bangla. 

'You must know your roots' 

For Asha, coming all the way to Bangladesh was not just about finding her roots. She wanted to feel that she really belonged somewhere, something she struggled with while growing up.

"I knew I did not look like my parents, or my brother, or my friend; I could see it in the mirror. I grew up in a small town where I did not see any brown people. Now, of course, things have changed," she said.  

She felt she did not fit anywhere. There was some bullying in school with students calling her a 'chocolate girl' or 'coffee bean' because of her skin colour. Her father was the school principal, making things much worse for a young Asha. 

One day, at the age of 23, while she was living in Copenhagen, she saw a picture of a Bangladeshi girl in a magazine. "I wanted to know how she felt after coming from Bangladesh and then growing up in Denmark. I desperately wanted to talk to her." 

And they did have a talk, although it happened almost six years later. "We talked so much, we had so many similarities!"  

Asha is an established social welfare worker in Denmark. She has two children from her previous marriage who are very supportive of her decision to track down her roots. They want their mother to be happy. 

This is not her first visit to Bangladesh. She came here in 2004, but it was for a Danish television channel documentary and she did not get much time to explore anything on her own. 

This time, she was accompanied by Mogens, who gave her the extra courage she needed for such an emotional journey. 

Mogens is in his 70s, with blue eyes that twinkle with excitement as he talks about his wife, and how they met, and how they planned their trip to Bangladesh. They met while walking their dogs, and he remembers how Asha hugged him after knowing that his wife had passed away. 

"And since then we have been walking our dogs together!"  

"We were in London at an ABBA concert, we thought of talking to the Bangladesh Ambassador, and we did. [And things took off from there]. I always told Asha that you must know who you are, you must know your roots," he said.  

'I kept the name Feroja, honouring my birth mother'

I recently accompanied Asha and Mogens to Khulna during their search for her family. The results were, unfortunately, not as we had hoped. 

But before this, I never realised that the name of a parent, or a birthplace, even the name of a hospital – all of which we take for granted – actually make up a large part of who we really are. 

However, finding Asha happened by chance. I was corresponding with Elisabeth, or Ella Feroja Fjalsett, over Facebook for quite a while. She had a similar story to Asha's. She was also looking forward to finding her family - if there were any left - in Dhaka. 

In 1975, she was given up for adoption from Dhaka to Norway. She was four months old at that time. She knew the names of her parents - Feroja Begum and Bashir Sardar (he is written as 'deceased' on the paper titled 'Transfer of Guardianship of Abandoned Child for Adoption' by the Department of Social Welfare). 

According to this paper, Elisabeth's real name was Moushumi. 

"I kept the name Feroja, honouring my birth mother. I found it in a letter 10 years ago in my adoptive parents' house. When I was 18, I wanted to change my name to Moushumi but I was told that this name would make it harder for me to get a job. Now as an adult, I think I will begin to use this name again," she told me.

She showed me a picture of a small note, where some lines are typed in English and Norwegian. It mentions her father was dead but her mother was not. The reason for adoption was "Unable to maintain."

Both Elisabeth and Asha are looking for answers, or any piece of information they can hold on to for the rest of their lives. Other than a few papers, some old pictures and their passports, they do not have much from their origins in Bangladesh.

'I was living in one part of the world, yet I was from another'

In Dhaka, when Asha and Mogens discovered the name Dolly Mondol in Missionaries of Charity, they knew they had to search for more in Khulna.   

On their second day in Khulna, at the Nirmal Hriday Shishu Bhaban in Shonadanga, Khulna city, they could not find much. There was a retired nurse, or governess, that they met at her house later, but sadly, she could not remember Asha. 

I joined them on the third day when we visited the Old Railway Station and its surrounding areas in search of Dolly Mondal, or her family.

It was a hot day and for Asha and Mogens, it felt even hotter. 

The whole area looked as it was – old and abandoned. Fallen leaves covered the cement floor. Dust was everywhere. 

But there was a modern addition on one corner, a bank ATM, indicating that the place was not completely abandoned. A few people were sitting on the stairs that once led to the main entrance of the platform. A few men and women, and children. 

Asha pointed out that one of the babies looked exactly like her. And he did. She asked the mother about his age, and it turned out it was almost the same as Asha when she was left at the station.

This coincidence moved us all, as we remained quiet for the next few minutes. Asha was visibly emotional as she tried hard to hold back tears. "Why did the small child have to be my age? He reminds me so strongly of myself at that age!" she said. 

We looked around for hours, asking people about Dolly. Was there a railway official who went by that name? Was there a Mondal para nearby? Was there anyone old enough to remember anything? 

After a while, a local businessman and ex-student leader by the name of Sheikh Fajlul Kabir joined us along with his family. He had a good network and hoped to find something. 

With his help, we went to the Shetlabari Temple (Mondal is usually a Hindu title) in Dolkhola. We spoke to the most senior community leaders but no one was able to say anything concrete. 

We then went to the Bagmara Temple to talk to the authorities and perhaps find some lead on Dolly Mondal. 

As the day went on, our frustration grew. Every time Asha spotted an elderly lady, she asked me to go speak to her. And I could see it on her face that she was perhaps thinking that this lady could be her mother.  

However, everyone we met that day promised to help Asha. But they needed time. After all, it has been 50 years and many Hindu families have migrated to elsewhere in the country, or to India. No one remembered a Dolly Mondal.

I wanted to console Asha as I could see how sad she was. Mogens was the more optimistic one among the two. He believes that they will find more with time; they just have to be patient. 

Asha's adoptive parents were not particularly happy about her coming to Bangladesh in 2004; they still are not, now that she's here. But Asha was always tormented by emotions, "I was living in one part of the world, yet I was from another part of the world." 

Mogens wanted this trip to Bangladesh to happen, perhaps even more than Asha, because he understands how important it is for her. He also wanted to see his wife's country. 

She may have had a good life in Denmark but the loneliness never went away. According to her, her adoptive parents gave her everything in a materialistic sense, but she longed for love and closure. 

It seemed like she may have had difficulties in sharing her feelings with her adoptive family.  

She was tired of hiding what she really felt inside. "You know, sometimes I was told not to show my frustration in front of my children because they have their roots in Denmark, whereas I did not."

Mogens mentioned that she was often told to be grateful for being raised in Denmark, and having a life here. "But why should she feel grateful? I think they should feel grateful for having a wonderful daughter like her." 

It was not easy for them to arrange everything before coming to Bangladesh. They needed a lot of money as well. "We had to save up a lot for a long time to be able to afford this trip," said Asha. 

'I hope my mother did not willingly give me up' 

Talking to Elisabeth felt like talking to a friend. She radiates warmth and openness. On our first meeting, she asked me "Do I look Bangali enough?" and I assured her that she did.

When she was pregnant with her first child, the doctors asked her if there was any disease in her family, and she did not know what to say. "I did not know anything about my family. I thought, did my mother look like me? By the way, my oldest son is very Bangali-looking."  

She showed me his pictures, he was a handsome young man with a head full of black hair. 

Elisabeth spoke fondly of her father who is now 88 years old. Her mother passed away six years ago. "My parents loved me so much. My mother was a wonderful person."

In fact, it was after her mother's death that something began to stir inside Elisabeth. "I had to find where I was from. I wanted some answers. I hope my mother did not willingly give me up, I do not know really. I wanted to know if something happened to her." 

Her adoptive parents told her everything when she was growing up. "They told me someone found me on a stair in Dhaka. My mother told me that they wanted to adopt children from Bangladesh because they look so beautiful. They wanted two, but ended up with just me."

This was her second trip to Bangladesh, she also came here in 2013. 

But this time, as soon as she set foot in Bangladesh, she felt different and more attached to the country. She could feel it. "But do not get me wrong, I adore my family in Norway. I met my husband, Henrik Fjalsett, when I was 18 and he was 20. I have four children and a grandchild."

However, she always wanted to know if there was more to her identity than only being Feroja and Bashir's daughter. She said she read a lot about the missing children from Bangladesh. "I sometimes wondered if I am one of them."  

After some searching, she found that she did not come from the Missionaries of Charity or Terres Des Hommes (TDH) as she had previously thought. However, she got hold of some additional information, which changed everything for her. 

As Elisabeth shared with me on WhatsApp, she comes from Padmar Char, Shibchar, Faridpur. Her mother was only 13 years old when she had her, according to information she gathered after meeting some government and NGO officials.

"Even if I do not find much, my heart will be at peace. When I was walking down the streets I felt this is my birth country and I am grateful for being here. I like the smell, the heat; I see so many people who look just like me." she shared with me during the interview.

A few days after our meeting, I came across a news on a television channel that on 28 March, Elisabeth finally found her mother in Shibchar along with a relative from her father's side who was still alive. As I went through the video, I saw how she was hugging her mother tightly; it seemed she never wanted to let go of her. 

It was true that her mother, Feroja Begum, did not want to give her up but she was just a teenager and her husband had passed away five months before Elisabeth was born. She did not have a father and did not know what to do.

A neighbour told her to give up baby Elisabeth for adoption at the Shishu Sadan run by the Welfare Ministry in Dhaka, and she did.