The Dhaka Driver's soliloquy

To drive or not to drive, that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The snarls and growls of outrageous traffic
Or to take up arms against a sea of horns
And by opposing still them. To group, to unionize,
No more, and by organizing to say we end
The cacophony, and the thousand shrieks and oaths
That drivers are heir to; 'tis a dream
Devoutly to be wished. To associate, to radicalize;
To manifesto; perchance to succeed--ay, there's the rub:
For in that stillness what traffic nightmares may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal noise,
Must give us pause--there's the respect
That makes calamity of silent driving
For who would bear the mad tootin'
The gaynjam, the howkow, the itch in the arse,
The potholed roundabout, the gas cheats,
The dogs in police uniforms, the greased palms,
Who would fake licenses bear, sweat on rexin seats
Beneath a roaring sun in a wheeled tin can
But that the dread of a silent traffic
Forever snarled without bells, whistles and horns,
Without curses, shouts and 'oi shala gaylee'
Puzzles the will and makes us bear the racket
Than fly to a quiet that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is paved over with the pale concrete of thought
And drives of great pitch and moment
With this regard their steering turn awry
And lose the name of Hell on Wheels.

Khademul Islam is the renowned literary editor of The Daily Star, as well as an eminent personality and litterateur.