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     Volume 5 Issue 104 | July 21, 2006 |

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Dhaka Diary

The Shoe Thief
This happened a few weeks back on a hot Friday afternoon. As I was coming out of the mosque after saying my Jumma prayers, I noticed a crowd of people brutally assaulting a street urchin. The boy was not more than 7-years-old, and was bleeding. When I went closer to investigate, I found out that the boy was being punished for stealing a pair of shoes from the entrance of the mosque! Despite protests from the elders, the crowd continued to ruthlessly beat up the boy. I couldn't stand there and witness the gruesome scene, so I walked away. As I was returning home, I began to wonder, “How can we call ourselves humans?” Because we get cheated and duped each and every day by the system, and we don't even open our mouths to complain. Then who gives us the permission to take out our frustration on a poor shoe-thief?
Redwan Islam Orittro
Maple Leaf Int. School

Etiquette matters
Last week, I went to Aarong in Gulshan with my mom. I chose a skirt and a top, which I needed to try in the fitting room. I was waiting in front of the door, since the room was occupied. After a while, a foreign lady came and stood next to me waiting in front of the fitting room next to the one I was standing in front of. My mother was in a hurry and asked me to get in one of the rooms and make a move as soon as possible. Right then, the door of the room in front of which the lady was waiting opened. Since she figured that we were in a hurry she asked if we would like to go first, but my mother declined and was quite embarrassed. We always have the habit of just grabbing chances that come by even at the cost of others around. I think we should be more considerate.
Jafrin Jahed Jiti

Diary from Chittagong
The other day I took a rickshaw to Chittagong Medical College. The day was excellent with a breeze blowing. I started to sing on my own. Suddenly, I saw that the rickshaw puller was looking behind him frequently. I stopped singing thinking that my song might be disturbing him. But he was still doing so. Than I figured that maybe he was deaf and looking behind to avoid accidents. As I reached college and was about to pay him, he started to speak all at once. He was breathing deeply and sweating profusely. “Baba,” he said. “You resemble my son who is in London and studying for MRCP (a dream degree for a doctor) but there is no communication for about three years. Your face and coming to CMC have dug out his buried memories in my mind.” Saying this he burst into tears with vigorous coughing. I was shocked and could not understand what to say. I left after paying.



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