Dhaka Diary

Taxi Code
A friend and I were on our way to work from university one fine day and by the sweet intervention of fate, managed to secure a yellow cab, which actually had a working A/C.
So, there we were comfortable within the cool interior of the car with a taxi driver who was very talkative and had more than a passing resemblance to a very famous political leader. Stuck at a signal in front of the PM's Office, another car pulled up beside us. The unfortunate driver of the vehicle did not have an A/C and was sweating profusely.
It so happened that our cabbie knew the driver in question. Reluctant to pull the window down the two proceeded to start a conversation using elaborate hand gestures. This went on for more than a minute after which time our cabbie seemed content with the answer to the question he was asking. Curious to know what had been said, I questioned him. Apparently our cabbie had asked the chauffeur what had happened to his A/C who had replied that it was not working and the compressor was stored in the backseat of the car.
Doubtless, it left us amazed and it was there that we coined the term 'taxi-code.' Maybe all cabbies are required to be able to 'speak' that in order to keep their jobs.
Quazi Zulquarnain Islam Gulshan

An Everyday Lesson
While coming out of the Central Library, I saw a girl weeping and infuriated. When I asked her what had happened--she said that her bag had been stolen from the library grounds. It seems that this was not the first time that this had happened. After a little bit of an investigation on my part, I found out that a few of my friends had also become victims of similar 'crimes' in the library.
Being a student of the best university in the country, it's a shame to say that one of our very own fellow students is the culprit. I wonder what exactly we are gaining from this reputed institution. In my opinion, not only is the standard of education going down, but so are the moral values of the students who have always been considered the intergral part of any growing nation in a developing country.
Ashutosh Das University of Dhaka

A Place to Read
About a month back, I was on my way to Khilkhet to ICAB, Karwan Bazaar on a Volvo bus. To go through the several traffic jams that take place in Dhaka City, I usually carry a book or a magazine to read while travelling. That particular day, I was flipping through a magazine when a group of young boys and girls started to scream and laugh out loud. I asked them politely, to keep their conversations a little down. I realised my mistake only when the youngsters started to speak louder and squeal even more. "Couldn't find a better place to read, huh?" I heard one of them mocking.
I could not help but relate to them my opinion as well. You never need a proper place to read actually. It seems that the US soldiers actually read inside their tanks, while going to the warfront in Iraq. This did silence them a little bit, though not for very long.
Md. Jabed Amin (Juwel) ICAB

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