When the going gets tough
Everybody in Dhaka has a solution for its traffic problem. After all, everyone is a part of the problem and is responsible for it. My private car occupies roughly 40 sq. ft. to ferry me from one place to another. I tend to ignore the fact that at least 20 people can be crammed into a same-sized vehicle. Do I feel guilty about it? Of course I do. Do those 40 people hold grudges against my privileged status? Of course they do. I have the luxury of conditioning the air inside my car, while they are forced to share the body-heat of each other. I feel fortunate. But should I thank the divine providence for such comfort? How can I thank divinity for my privileges that I enjoy at the expense of others? Should they be thankful for their misery too? Besides, what are my privileges compared to the ones who abuse them?
Yes, you have guessed it right. I am referring to the type that has no remorse in blocking thoroughfares for hours in the name of security, going against the flow of the road just because they can erect flag-stands or sound out mad alarms, or parking at their whims while playing Tom and Jerry (or even Tweety bird) with the law enforcing agency!
Dhaka is a city that is generating hatred. Dhaka is a city that is fast splitting into two polarised camps. The binaries rule: Us vs. Them. Even within these binary categories, there is a lot of mini-'me's. It's all about 'me', I want to go fast, I want to go first. I want to survive, I want to bypass. I want to take over, I want to overtake. So I will say what I must say. But before that let me make a list the topics that I won't say because, as urban legends have it, some of these issues are taboo, and it is better to care for one's life.
I won't go into the tales of losing man-hours in gridlock, of the trauma of dying patients in ambulances, of examinees running late for exams or of job seekers missing their appointments. I won't go into the issues of traffic management, potholes, waterlog, rail-crossings, illegal markets and materials occupying footpaths and roads, jay-walkers and pedestrians on the road, mixture of slow and fast vehicles, lack of bus bays and so on. I won't talk about the increase in fare because of jam, the burning of fuel and the air pollution. I won't talk about the honking and the verbal aplenty that add to the city's noise levels.
I won't question the presence of a cantonment, an industrial area and an international airport inside the city. I won't dare raise eyebrows over the way the uniformed men are occupying vast stretches of land in the middle of the city that is disrupting the connectivity between Airport Road and Mirpur Road, or Sat Masjid Road and Old Dhaka. The flight route of their golf birdie can halve the loads of traffic flow in the two main arteries, but who am I to talk about it!
I will not talk about the narrowing down of certain roads such as the Elenbari-Bijoy Sarani link road because of some vested effort to save some government residential quarters. I will not talk about the slow progress of construction works. I will not talk about the presence of inter-city bus terminals inside the city. I will not talk about covered van and trucks plying in the city during peak hours. I will not talk about unfit cars and buses that stop functioning in the middle of the road, causing a huge chain reaction. I will not talk about the lack of civic sense in buses picking up and dropping off passengers in the middle of the streets. I will not talk about starting a fight over a kiss of the bumpers, sending a wave of shock through the Dhaka spine. I will not talk about the slow trains that keep on bringing the city to a standstill. I will not talk about the low percentage of road areas and the high volume of vehicles. I will not talk about the expensive traffic signals that go on and off without any influence on the traffic whatsoever. I will not talk about the corrupt police officers who are more interested in raising money perhaps to over-compensate the bribe they spent to get their posting in a city where the proverbial money flies.
I will not talk about any of these. I will simply say one thing: the nerves of the people are on edge. But then again I am not a psycho-geographer to elaborate it. Besides, those who have assumed the responsibilities of running the show have their reliable agencies to feel the people's vibe. So who am I/are we to talk about it? As unwilling participants in the daily drama where we are stranded in the streets for hours, we can only hope that the producers and the directors of the drama will script a proper ending that will purge the climactic tension that we are acting out on a daily basis.
The writer is Advisor, Department of English and Humanities, University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh (ULAB)
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