The
Black Taxi
A
few days ago I was travelling by a rickshaw from Mirpur Road
to Dhanmondi. As usual there was never--ending traffic on the
road. All the drivers, including my rickshaw puller, were moving
along the left side of the road obeying the traffic rule. Suddenly
from nowhere, a black taxi travelling at a dangerous speed started
and zipping past all of us from the wrong side of the road.
It was as if there was nothing on the driver's mind except to
get ahead. On his frenzy he almost hit an elderly lady. Everyone
looked on with horror and loudly cursed at the taxi driver.
I think God heard all our prayers because suddenly the car's
engine stopped and the taxi screeched to halt. The driver used
countless techniques to start the car but that 'black pile of
junk' refused to start. The driver's predicament made everyone
smile; even the traffic policemen were amused. No one bothered
to give a helping hand to the cab driver. As I was going past
the taxi on my rickshaw the only thought that crossed my mind
was the story about “The quick rabbit and the slow tortoise”.
Ameer
'A'
Levels , Maple Leaf International
Better
Safe than Sorry
Some
sights never cease to amaze me. Whenever I see a father carrying
his child on a motorbike, I am astonished to see that the father
is wearing a helmet but not the child. Has the father forgotten
why one wears a helmet in the first place? Surely small-sized
helmets are available in this city? I also see children in front
seats in cars without their seatbelts fastened. Their parents
sit in the back chatting away without a care in the world. Sometimes,
the child may stick his hand or head out of the window but very
few parents forbid their children to do so. I know that people
may think that I am being overly concerned, but when it comes
to safety, one can never be too careful.
Nausheen
Rahman, Dhaka
Rajshahi
Diary
An
Everyday Tale
One
day, I was chatting at an assembly of idle people at the foot
of RU Shaheed Minar. A nine-year-old peanut seller came towards
us and asked us earnestly to buy some nuts. The boy looked smart
and possessed a poignant face. He had an excellent expression
that finally convinced us to grope for our wallets. He was also
using some English words, which really impressed us. I could
not help asking him about his income. He told me that he earned
about Tk.50 to Tk.100 every day, selling peanuts. He used to
go to school before and he had completed class three. The awe-inspiring
fact was that he, for three consecutive years, had stood first
in his class. His father who used to drive a hand-barrow was
now unable to provide the expenses for his education. He had
an elder brother who does not look after their parents after
he got married. Therefore, the boy had to take up this profession,
leaving his bright future far behind him. All his dream have
been compensated to simply earn a living to manage each day.
Juad,
Mader Bux Hall, University of Rajshahi