"What is vision?" he keeps going. "Well, vision is when you can see things five or ten years ahead of time, and start planning for it." "Do you have vision?" He just won't quit! "No" I say. "Then why do you expect others to have vision?"

I try to give him a quick and vague answer by saying: "well I'm not a government advisor, I don't ride in a government car, and I don't enjoy all the government perks. I'm just an ordinary citizen who doesn't like to eat dinner in the dark. So, it's OK if I don't have any vision, but people who are in charge should have it."

Our power isn't back yet, so my son and I decide to take a walk in a nearby park. On our we get distracted by loud honking at the traffic light where we were waiting. The traffic light is still red, there are at least five cars ahead of us that are not moving, but the driver behind us is taking part in a honking contest.

He is driving an oversized, shiny, SUV and honking louder to show off his muscle or to draw attention. These big SUV's should be banned in Dhaka, but let's save that topic for another discussion. I knew that a question would be coming any minute, and it did. "Why are all these people honking for no reason?"

I was getting a headache from the noise around us, so my answer was brief : "We need a driver awareness or education program." "We don't have money, so we can't do it, right?" he asks again. "Wrong," I say. I tried to explain to him that by imposing fines and fees (and,of course, by collecting them) we could generate enough revenue to have a driver education program.

Be tough on the drivers who honk unnecessarily, slap them with a fine, and empower our policemen to take action no matter who the driver is. Send a copy of the violation to the Department of Motor Vehicles (or whatever we call it in Dhaka), so that the car owner is forced to pay when he tries to renew his registration.

Increase the number of policemen in noise pollution critical areas, and make driver education classes mandatory for all drivers. Maybe in the first year we won't reach our revenue target, but once we figure out all the implementation issues and work at it consistently, collection will go up, and part of the generated revenue can be used for a driver education program.

For example, when a driver goes to renew his or her license, there will be a two-hour mandatory training class consisting of a short lecture and a video presentation. Some voluntary steps can also help, even though I'm a big believer in economic incentives. The car owners can help the government by being tough on their drivers.

Tell your driver that the next time he gets a ticket (if there is a ticket!) the amount will be taken out of his salary. Next time he honks at a mother who is trying to put her children in her car near a school, tell your driver that you won't tolerate such behaviour.

OK, I admit I'm not proposing anything new. Our officials are well aware of the problems because they deal with these issues everyday. In fact, if they read my column they would say: "Tell me something I don't know." If that is so, then how come nothing is being done?

The point I'm trying to make is that we don't have the passion and the willingness to fix things. We have enough brainpower in this country. Just look at the number of seminars and conferences taking place in Dhaka everyday. As a policymaker, if you think you have run out of ideas and need some fresh ones, why don't you invite half a dozen experts, form a committee, get the recommendations, and get on with it?

I know the response will be, "it's easier to write a column than to implement these policies." But why bring up the same excuse, which has become a cliché? Implementation takes courage and hard work; our people in charge are just not ready for hard work -- plain and simple.

We finally reach our destination -- a nearby city park. We start to walk and notice how badly managed the park is. In some parts of the park, there is no grass, and there are obvious signs of soil erosion. There is a nice pond in the park, but the water has turned green and looks polluted.

My son quickly points out that the park isn't well maintained. He asked: "why don't they take care of it? Is it money?" By now he knows what the answer will be, and I give him the answer he was waiting to hear -- it's not the question of money. All we need is a few bags of grass seed and a couple of people to take care of it.

Before traveling abroad I had always thought that Bangladesh was the most beautiful country in the world when it comes to nature. I was brainwashed by our poets who went overboard when they wrote about our green countryside, our rivers and our forests. Patriotism is nice, but an occasional dose of reality, or a wake-up call, is not that bad either.

Take a look at other countries, see how they protect their environment and take care of their natural resources. As I travel around Dhaka, I wonder how we could take care of things with a few bags of grass seed, a few scoops of mulch on flowerbeds, or a few inexpensive plants here and there.

All it will take is a few great managers and supervisors who really care about our city, and who will show their employees how to do the job. This is what we need more than money -- a few fearless leaders who can take risks and who do not know how to compromise -- in every layer of our society.

They don't say "sir" after every word their boss says, they know how to roll up their sleeves and come up with solutions, instead of blaming the system. They always question things, won't take no for an answer, and always have a "can do" attitude.

And when the resistance to change becomes really strong, and they can't do their job, they resign without thinking about their paycheck or the nice government car. Because they know that even though they are quitting, they've stirred things up so much that they will never be the same.

It's getting dark in the park and I ask my son to wrap things up so that we can go home. "Is the power back up? Would I be able to do my home work?" he asks. I assured him that most likely the power is back and he will be able to do his work.

But what about the hundreds and thousands of families across Dhaka, who should have access to electricity everyday so that they can enjoy an evening meal under lights, or help their children with homework? Thank God I'm not in charge, because I won't be able to sleep at night with that kind of responsibility.

Dr. Manzoor Elahi Chowdhury is an Associate Professor of Economics & Management at Independent University Bangladesh (IUB).