Why is everything so spick and span on this road, Daddy?
Dad : Somebody khoob important is going to pass by.
Son : Why can't someone important pass through all the roads
Dad : We don't have so many important persons.
Son : Why are we then having so many VIP roads?
Dad : So that rickshaw pullers can look for alternate jobs.
Son : It must be costing a lot of money, this cosmetic do?
Dad : We have an entire ministry to look into that.
Son : What tree?
Dad : It's a large tree that the minister holds upright and
the others try to shake down all the flowers and leaves.
Son : That's mean.
Dad : That's ministry.
Son : What about the fruits?
Dad : They die as flowers.
Son : That's infanticide.
Dad : More like government side, if you ask me.
Son : Why can't all the roads be like this all the year round?
Dad : Then no one will notice the difference.
Son : What's wrong with everything being nice and also same?
Dad : The nice don't like that very much.
Son : Why all the beautiful gates, daddy and so colourful?
Dad : So that their drivers know which route to follow.
Son : Surely they can afford smart drivers.
Dad : No, son, the smart ones have gone to Dubai
Son : They could ask a traffic sergeant!
Dad : You know how our sergeants are. They don't know left
from right and might show the opposite direction.
Son : But he will lose his job. Will serve him right, it will.
Dad : No! He will first be closed.
Son : What's that?
Dad : Aaaa… it's the past tense of 'close'; like play
and played, rain and rained.
Son : Are they really close to the important persons?
Dad : Otherwise, how could he get the job?
Son : By studying, Daddy! You told me that so many times.
Dad : They did not. Err… could not, more like they had
no money to go to school. So they get low-paid jobs.
Son : It must be hard on them.
Dad : Not really! If you don't know the right way, just show
the wrong way.
Son : Daddy!
Dad : Actually, all passing drivers who are more educated
than them feel guilty and donate Taka 2.
Son : Awww! Why not Taka 5?
Dad : Bigger notes need bigger palms, darling.
Son : Suppose some driver does not pay?
Dad : Then he will be made sorry.
Son : Look, daddy, a sorry driver.
Dad : What do you mean?
Son : He jumped the red light, and the illiterate, low-paid
sergeant stopped him.
Dad : That's odd.
Son : What?
Dad : The red light working.
Son : All of them work, Daddy. They are now digital.
Dad : What's that?
Son : Well by predetermined logic that controls an electronic
timer, the lights change from red to green and red again without
seeing who is on which road. In fact, it has no way of knowing.
Dad : That's wonderful, just the thing this country needs.
We could use such a system in our banks…
Son : Banks…
Dad : Yes, to decide who deserves the loan. We could use it
in developments works…
Son : But, daddy, you said no one works in this country.
Dad : …to allot funds to the constituencies irrespective
of who is the MP.
Son : Empy? Do they sell burgers?
Dad : Set up this magical machine in schools and colleges
to select teachers.
Son : You could not stop my math teacher with a red light.
Dad : Control load shedding with the digital wizard, so that
night after night only the villagers do not suffer.
Son : We were supposed to go visit our village this winter.
Dad : We will…
Son : You are saying that for the last three winters.
Dad : We will… revolutionise Bangladesh…
Son : By going to the village?
Dad : Stop, it's red. Go green go. Oops, it's amber again.
Son : Mommeeee…
man who gets angry at the right things and with the right
people, and in the right way and at the right time and for
the right length of time, is commended.' Aristotle
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