A day in the life of a CNG auto rickshaw
0700 HOURS
I'm awake apparently. Master checks me and sighs, probably wondering when he will have enough money to fix my faulty engine. The loop his life goes through is simple: earn, feed, and hope the traffic sergeant won't check his papers when I suddenly halt in the middle of the street and refuse to start. However, I'm not angry that he won't fix me. The fact that he's educating his fifteen year-old daughter instead of marrying her off is the reason I start functioning again despite my wheezing engine.
0800 HOURS
We are on the street now, and the weather is convenient for me to function at my best. A woman with a kid ushers for Master to stop, and I impatiently wait as they bargain over the fare, finally settling on something 50 Taka less. Since the road is clear, it takes me less than twenty minutes to reach the school. The woman indifferently pays the fare, which still seemed a little too much for me considering how quickly we reached our destination. But who am I to argue with my Master? He seems pleased that the day has started well, and it gives him a false sense of assurance that the rest of the day is going to be good as well. We take two more uneventful trips with slightly high fares. At least he will have some extra money to fix my engine.
1000 HOURS
A young woman bargains with Master regarding the trip fare to her destination. She does not bargain much, however, as she seems eager to escape the impenitent onlookers who are taking in her outfit and probably thinking, "How dare a woman wear that on the streets?" As soon as she gets in, relief seems to flood into her. She makes a few phone calls to probably her parents and her colleagues, assuring that she has got a CNG and was on the way. After we drop her off, I really start hoping the other CNG she will hire to go home won't take her somewhere she's not supposed to go.
1200 HOURS
I go through the usual drudgery the whole time, except for the short moment when Master kills off my engine and goes off to pee in an open sewer. One of my questions regarding Dhaka is why there aren't enough public bathrooms and awareness about peeing in the open. Don't they know it harms the environment? But then again, I look at my exhaust pipe contributing an unholy amount of carbon into the atmosphere and wheeze.
1500 HOURS
The traffic congestion gets worse, and so does the heat. My engine suddenly stops cooperating in the middle of the bustling road. No matter how hard Master tries, I can't start anymore. The passengers throw in a few harsh words, handing Master a quarter of the initial fare and storms off. Master tries a few more times. When he finally realises that I won't be working anymore unless he fixes the faulty gear, I take one last breath before muttering, "I don't feel so good."
Zarin Rayhana likes to spend her time by pondering over alternative theories about the universe instead of studying for school. Send her your theories at facebook.com/zarinrayhana.n
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