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     Volume 4 Issue 50 | June 10, 2005 |

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Dhaka Diary

Going bride shopping?
As everyone is aware of, the tradition of arranged marriages and matchmaking continue even now in the subcontinent. As per the ritual, a suitable boy was found for me, exchanging bio-datas from both sides accordingly. We met at Eastern Plaza with chaperons and spoke to each other. Since the meeting went off well, it was a positive sign and a wedding date was tentatively finalised. We then met a few more times, without chaperons this time, and tried to get to know each other. At one of our meetings, I let him know that I plan to do my Masters very soon and also discussed various other plans I had chalked out for myself. However, that very day, he had decided to call off the wedding. When I demanded a reason, one of his relatives reported back that it seems I was not the perfect match for him and that my behaviour, looks or personality did not appeal to him enough for me to be a part of his life. A piece of advice for all you parents looking out for possible life partners for your daughters, respectable men and eligible bachelors, who look for perfect women to marry on the basis of God knows what. Women are not toys, so please don't go around shopping for them. You can easily conjure up a 'dream girl' and imagine the 'perfect wife', but that does not give you any right to hurt a woman. Maybe our parents and the men of this society should learn to respect women more and actually see them as a little more than suitable home appliance products and baby production devices.
Yet Another Victim

Humanity on the street
While coming out of a shop at New Elephant Road, I noticed a little boy who was possibly suffering from a deadly disease and was physically disabled. His backbone was bent and he would probably never be able to stand and walk properly ever again. Besides all that, he was also suffering from malnutrition. The people walking about around him were clearly sympathising with his condition and giving him money. The boy was also crying since he hadn't had anything to eat in a long time. Suddenly, a middle-aged man got down from a car and approached the little boy. He seemed to be well-off and was expensively dressed. The man sat on his toes in front of the boy, held his hand and asked what kind of physical problem he was facing. It was definitely a sight to see this well-dressed man holding hands and talking to an urchin. After a conversation, the man bought him a T-shirt and gave a good amount of money. Again saying some words of love with a smile, the man got back into his car and drove away. It was definitely a sight to cherish.
Shoaib.M.Siddiqui Dhaka City College

How low can you fly?
As we reached the Mohakhali fly-over, I knew that a race was at hand. It was not a question of leading now; it was a question of pride. As we came to the descending part, my driver took a long look at the other driver. He was greeted with the same dirty look. It was now or never, the moment of truth. Here, only speed ruled. He made a cracking sound with his shoulder and then was off. I never knew that there was so much power packed into these vehicles. I looked over the driver's shoulder and noticed that we were moving at 5 km/h. Impossible, I told myself. We must be doing at least 60 or even 70. The drive, as if to make me feel comfortable, told me that the pin was broken and there was no way to tell the actual speed. "Andaz ase bhai, kono chinta nai!" (Don't worry bro, everything is under control) was the reply. Within minutes, we had reached the finish line, the red signal at Chairman Bari. As my driver proudly brought his CNG vehicle to a stop, he glanced to his left at the other CNG driver and gave him a chin up, reconfirming his accolade. The other driver looked away and as the light turned green, our roads parted. All this simply because the other driver overtook my vehicle in front of the Cantonment signal. What fun these drivers get in these little drag races, I have yet to understand!
IHK, Gulshan 2


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