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     Volume 4 Issue 73 | December 2, 2005 |


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Dhaka Diary

Look before you spit!
WHILE mingling and dodging through the swarming roads of Dhaka, it is not very unusual to catch sights of human saliva whizzing in all directions. But last week I encountered something very dramatic. As usual, I was seated in an intercity bus gazing outside the window, returning home after a day of hard work. While our bus waited for the green signal at Mohakhali all of a sudden I caught sight of scarlet colored string of saliva (the residue left after chewing a betel leaf) zooming across the air and landing on a cheek of a middle-aged woman who was crossing the road. The unfortunate woman looked around in utter shock and dismay and at once spotted the culprit. After that, on top of her voice, she poured out all the slang she had in stock and left nothing to harass the man. To add to the man's misfortune she was joined by a number of bystanders who played their part in the hullabaloo. The scene finally evaporated after the traffic mobilized. I pondered that if we are a bit more cautious of our deeds and surroundings, this type of upsetting situation can be avoided.
Karim A. Sajwani
AIUB

The fortune-teller
THERE is a little boy who lives right below our house. He is very fond of me since I give him chocolates and little toys from time to time. The other day the little boy was very hyper and was climbing the cars parked in the garage downstairs and jumping around. "You'll get hurt!" I warned him. Just then he fell from where ever he was jumping on and got hurt "You'll get hurt too!" he replied. I didn't take any notice of his childish wishful thinking and got on with my work. I stepped out in a while and was on my way to my destination. Right then, my vehicle hit a 'Turn Left' signboard real hard. I was seriously injured and my head was bleeding. It wasn't until later when I thought about the little boy's predictions earlier in the afternoon
Jafrin Jahed Jiti
VNC

The real story
IT happened a week ago when I was spending my weekend at my grandma's house in Azimpur. It was 1 a.m. at night when my grandma suddenly became seriously sick. For the past few years she had been suffering from diabetics and high blood pressure. A number of doctors live in Azimpur. We called a doctor who happened to be a neighbour of my grandma. The phone went on ringing but there was none to answer it. So I rushed to the doctor's house. But the same thing happened - when I rang the doorbell, no one opened the door. After a about five minutes, the door was opened by the doctor's wife, who seemed to be very disturbed. I tried to apologize and explain to her the situation. Instead of listening to me she started yelling at me and shut the door. The next 30 minutes were spent going from door to door looking for a doctor resulting to nothing, except a yell and a slam of the door. In the mean time, the condition of my grandma worsened. So my uncle and I took a rickshaw and took her to the nearest public clinic, where we could not find any doctor in charge. It seemed that the doctor was also enjoying his weekend at home. Finally we took her to DMCH, and after some efforts, got her admitted there. My grandma However, recovered, though the doctor there informed us that the situation could have been worst if we had delayed.
Before this event I used to believe that medical profession was a noble one and doctors really cared for the people, sacrificing their own pleasures and comforts. But after what happened that night, I wonder do those doctors really care for people or do they care only for money!
Sadat Shams
Maple Leaf Int. School

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