Dhaka is Dead; Long Live Dhaka! The first revelations of this year’s spring
By Asrar Chowdhury
Unpublished
Feb 2009
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Today was a special day for the people of Dhaka. It was the first day of spring- Pahela Phalgun as we all know the day as. Within and throughout Dhaka the girls painted the colours of spring with their yellow and red saris. The whole of Dhaka woke up to festivities. A re-birth, a re-incarnation of a city, of a culture, of history.
Unfortunately, I spent the whole day working. My only consolation was to look at one of the rare patches of green trees in Dhaka in the Science Laboratory Campus that’s visible from my bedroom. By late afternoon I finished writing what I set out to in the morning. I was happy with myself. I had a wedding programme to attend in the evening. I was well ahead of schedule.
Our driver went on leave. This gave me an excuse to get from my house to Dhanmondi Road 7 on foot. I was looking forward to the evening stroll—an excuse to see Dhaka City from the other side of the coin. The moment I stepped out of my house, I saw a familiar scene—cars waiting in the jam of New Elephant Road. This didn’t distract me because I was walking. I knew I’d find some loophole that the cars won’t or can’t find.
In stead of crossing the road, I decided to walk on the side of New Elephant Road opposite to Science Laboratory. I normally don’t do this because that’s the side of New Elephant Road that has one of the most densely populated and dynamically moving pedestrians in the world. This observation neglects the ‘unidentified flying objects’ of the Dhaka streets. Since today was a day to enjoy the Dhaka walkers, I got out of my house and took a left turn. It was the normal scene of New Elephant Road on any day. You bump into every second person in the road; the rickshaws are coming from the opposite side on an otherwise one way road; the vendors have occupied the entire pedestrian’s footpath. The only way one can ‘really’ walk to the Science Laboratory Crossing is relying on one’s instincts and being careful at every moment that something isn’t going to hit you from the front, from behind and finally from the left and the right. YES! It’s a 3D animated experience first hand.
When I finally got to the cross roads, I was happy to see I was on the side of the flowing traffic. My instincts told me not to take the over-bridge, but to walk with the cars. As I was doing so, a man in his motorcycle zipped passed me from behind. I have to give the gentleman full credit for finding the space between myself and him and not touching me. That was one escape. While crossing the cross roads with the Police Box in my sight, a little van almost collided with me. No bonus points for guessing correct. The van was coming from a side it wasn’t supposed to. The traffic police didn’t even notice!
Finally I got to Road 1, Dhanmondi. The next target was to cross the road and touch Road 2, Dhanmondi. In other words the next target was to cross City College. I’ve walked this place many times in the past, but today I just couldn’t find one little space to walk. The absence of street lights made it impossible to fathom what was in front of me. When I finally reached the end of Road 1, I was happy to see the beauty of chaos—a total traffic failure. There was no way you could tell which car to blame. All the cars were jammed. To my left, the part of the road that leads to Rifles’ Square, the entire road was empty. I didn’t have the time to enjoy the technicalities. I took this as my chance to cross the road. Each vehicle was still. I had a dream crossing.
YES, I finally made it to Road 2. I crossed the City College Gate and was proceeding towards Alliance Francaise, Road 3, Dhanmondi. The owners of Happy Arcade have followed the municipal rules by leaving adequate space from their boundary and also constructing an underground car park. They followed the rules of land. But then. What about the happy shoppers of Happy Arcade? Five cars parked in front of the shopping complex. Two of them trying to get into the traffic to get on to Mirpur Road. Each one is blowing their horns to divert people in front of them, who don’t have the slightest idea on what to do.
As I was crossing the road to get to Road 3, the green lights went on. I should have realised green in Dhaka doesn’t mean the cars start to move. But the change from red to green via yellow means the every car will press their horns to try to waken up the traffic police. It was only then that I understood why we need traffic lights and a traffic police at the same time. Otherwise it would have been pandemonium like the crossing from Road 1 to Road 2. So, now I was crossing Road 3 and Alliance Francaise. The Chobi Mela V was going on. The French Building was decorated with lighting. I crossed the block of Road 3 and now was about to cross the road again to hop on to Road 4, Dhanmondi.
Road 4, Dhanmondi is the part of Mirpur Road that overlooks LabAid. Opposite to LabAid is a popular bus stand. I was amazed. Everybody was disciplined. They stood in their allotted places in the queues, but there was no room on the footpath for pedestrians. I took to the main road. Even then I couldn’t walk. Believe me, there couldn’t have been less than 1,000 people waiting for a bus. Could I blame them for occupying the road? Why and how can I? I crossed the queues and then crossed Lavender and finally Priyo and Almas. This time the situation was unbearable. Three rows of cars blocking 30 percent of Mirpur Road, and cars blocking each square inch of available space on the footpath in front of Priyo-Almas. When I did cross the road to hop onto Road 6, Dhanmondi, I sensed another hurdle- King’s Bakery, and Yousuf Confectionary.
As a teenager I remember walking from our house to visit friends and family near Dhanmondi Lake and Kalabagan. I even remember walking to Taj Mahal Road as a past time to visit a friend whom I haven’t seen now for more than two decades. But this is simply krazy. YES, this is the Dhaka that we all love. This is the Dhaka we all feel proud of. Even this morning I was grumbling about Pahela Phalgun. The spring winds may have arrived. That may be good news for those who want to go and visit the melas in Dhaka. We fail to realise that with the spring comes news that summer is knocking at the door. YES, the wonderful summer of Dhaka coupled with the jams and ‘lawlessness’ in the streets.
Finally, I entered Road 7, Dhanmondi. It seemed as if the journey was about to end. I found the community centre I headed out for. I didn’t recognise anybody and nobody recognised me. I cross-checked with one person to see if I had come to the right place. I did come to the right place. I reached the venue only to find out I had come to the programme three days too early! After sitting for 10/12 minutes, I thought of leaving. YES, all the way back home and on foot again.
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Only this morning I was reading a note Maqsood Bhai (Mac Haque) wrote and tagged me on in Facebook. He mentioned that Facebook has become or is becoming an integral part of our lives. For once at least, I’m happy Facebook is here. I had something to look forward to. Get back home. Write about your experience and upload it on Facebook for planet Earth to see!
Some of us live a dream of Dhaka. Dhaka is Dhaka come what may. I think that’s a myth. The historical Dhaka is locked up in the pages of historians in wonderful narrations by Poet Shamsur Rahman in his Smritir Shohor or dug out by the historian Muntasir Mamun in one of his rare gems for people to ponder ‘what was’ and ‘what is’. What these narrations have never addressed is ‘what could be’?
After today’s experience, all I can say is I’ve seen the writing on the wall. And it’s no joke. If this is the way Dhaka is proceeding, I don’t think we’ll have to wait for global warming and the rising seas to get the better of us. The people of Dhaka will have the better of themselves. Rename this City. At once! Call it any name that comes to mind. But please, please don’t call it Dhaka. Dhaka is Dead; Long Live Dhaka!
Pahela Phalgun Shubhechchha!
Asrar Chowdhury (Ronnie)
13/14.Feb.09
Pahela Phalgun
Dhaka
asrarchowdhury 