Non-fiction
It happens only in Dhaka
Dhaka is a city buzzing with hordes of people busy amidst their daily lives. Whether it is the pressure of household, study, work or kids people seem to be as 'busy as a bee'. But if you were to look deep into any interesting happenings you need not look far. I went on the bus the other day, my car being unavailable, and had the most mind boggling experience. Firstly it started to rain and I got wetter than a drenched crow and I had no umbrella with me. Who expects rain in the middle of winter? Then of course the bus was running late. After what seemed like an eternity the bus finally came. I showed the bus conductor my drenched ticket after which I got on the bus. There was one empty seat in the bus and it was next to a sleazy looking man dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. Somebody ought to have told the man that it was winter and not summer, blazing fiercely with its golden sun. The man started to talk to me although at my drenched state with the bus splashing away among puddles of water, I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone a man who didn't know how to dress according to the weather. But appearances can be deceiving indeed and Dhaka was a city where a man could dress anyway he wished to without being stared at or frowned upon, whereas women have to dress a certain way or risk being stared at. "Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?" the man asked bluntly. I blushed deeply. What kind of a man starts with being inquisitive whether a woman is single or not in a bus, with a complete stranger yet. However, I knew I had to answer the man otherwise he'd keep staring at me with those beady eyes of his. "I'm married". I lied on impulse. In Dhaka a woman travelling alone has to be careful, especially when talking to strange men. You would think once you tell a man you're married he'd back off. No such luck. "Can I have your phone number?" he asked so confidently that I almost believed he could manipulate me into giving him my number. I chose to ignore him and all through the ride. The two-hour ride from Banani to Dhanmondi, due to a traffic jam, was long. The man kept boasting about having a huge garments industry and I remained quiet the whole way ignoring him. But somehow he didn't get the hint. The thought that came to my mind was that for a man with a clothes' factory he sure didn't know how to dress. As I reached my destination, which is Dhanmondi, I was so relieved to get rid of the man that I didn't care that it was still raining and I didn't have an umbrella with me. I got off the bus thinking what an interesting experience one can have with a complete stranger on the bus in Dhaka. I laughed to myself, upon which heads turned, but I didn't care. I walked in the rain and went to my aunt's house in Dhanmondi where I dried off and told my aunt about what happened upon which she laughed and said, "This can only happen in Dhaka city."
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