"Stick Traveler"

Dhaka city's morning is like an unending front line. As soon as the sun rises, thousands of individuals take to the roads in the look of a vocation. Commotion, the booming of horns, and the greatest enemy—traffic jams. Each individual in this city knows that activity jams not as it takes absent time, but moreover life. Shafiq Saheb, fifty-five years old, lives in the Rampura region. He has been working in a government office in Motijheel for the past twenty-three a long time. Each morning, he takes neighborhood transport number 8. His schedule is so particular that indeed the transport conductor and the tea merchant another entryway know his time.

7:

30 am. He arrived at the transport stand as normal. There's a hint of the hot sun. Individuals around him—children, office-going workers, school-going students—are all standing holding up for each transport.

The transport arrived at around 8 o'clock, which can be said to be a little later than normal. The transport was as of now full, however individuals were getting on and off in droves. Shafiq Saheb some way or another overseen to discover a few spaces to stand. As before long as he got on the transport, a commonplace scene came to him—a youthful man yelling at the back, “Brother, go forward, I can't get off!”

A lady yelled, “Don't ladies get on this transport? Deliver me a few space, brother!”

The conductor, who implies 'voice like a king', in his claim schedule, “Pay the passage, brother! Do not go for complimentary chaila!”

The transport gradually began. But after going a small encourage, it halted at the Rajarbagh crossing point. In a brief whereas, it got to be clear that there was a tremendous challenge ahead. Rickshaws, CNG, private cars, trucks—all in all, a chaotic scene.Shafiq Saheb looked out the window. The line of cars appeared to reach the skyline. All of a sudden, the college-aged young lady sitting another to him said on her versatile, “Mom, in case there's lesson nowadays, I won't go. The transport hasn't crossed Malibagh yet!”

A lot of time within the lives of the individuals of this city is wasted in this stick. A few are attempting to rest indeed on this stick, a few are tuning in to music on their versatile phones, a few are reading books. But Shafiq Sahib is incapable of doing anything. There's as it were one thought in his intellect - 'It will be late once again nowadays; the boss will be angry.' An ancient man within the transport abruptly stood up hacking among everybody. He was wearing a white Punjabi and a cap on his head. He said, "This city is wiped out. There utilized to be so many jams. Presently everybody buys cars and gets out on the street."

After his words, there was a quiet stop within the transport. A few shook their heads, a few turned their faces to the window.

All of a sudden, a rescue vehicle siren sounded within the stick. But no one was clearing out the street. The transport driver went a little forward and said, There's a quiet!"

But the driver of the private car in front said in a genuine voice, "Am I moreover standing in a strange way?"

Shafiq Saheb abruptly closed his eyes. His girl had once been in an emergency and had come to the clinic with extraordinary trouble after being stuck in an activity stick like this. The young lady had to be kept in seriously care for a week since she might not get opportune treatment The transport gradually began moving once more. A youthful boy following Shafiq Saheb opened his sack and took out a chocolate and gave it to the small young lady, who was crying in her mother's arms. These little sympathetic minutes made this excruciating travel endurable.

A middle-aged man said, "Brother, on the off chance that this proceeds, after 5 a long time there will be no put to walk. The government ought to arrange and construct the street."

Such discussions, complaints, and talks proceeded.

It was 9:45 am. The transport had come to Motijheel. But it got stuck at a crossing point once more. This time, development work was going on along the street. One path was totally closed due to inadequate work. Shafiq Saheb moaned. His colleague Rakibul Sir continuously says, “Learning time administration in this city implies learning the circus.”

At long last, the transport came to Motijheel at 10: 15. Shafiq Sahib nearly bounced off. The conductor behind him said, “Brother, pay the fare!”

He paid the admission and said, “I trust I can capture the transport a small prior tomorrow.”

As he strolled, he thought— “This city will not alter, we are going have to be alter. We are going need to persevere. Possibly one day something unused will come— metro rail, flyover, standard traffic— but until at that point, we are going need to travel in neighborhood buses.”

The address emerged in his intellect, “Is the stick as it were on the streets? Or in our way of thinking?”

In this way, the everyday story of the city proceeded. Each morning could be a fight of jams, and each individual may be a warrior.