Int’l committee renames Stockholm syndrome as “Dhaka syndrome”

After careful observation of the behavioural dilemma that persists among natives of Dhaka and their love for this city, authorities finally decided to rename the psychological condition Stockholm syndrome as the more accurate "Dhaka syndrome".

In a press briefing held earlier today, the International Akika Committee's spokesperson reflected, "After nine chaotic hours of work every day, as Dhaka drains all the energy out of its inhabitants, it leaves a minuscule amount for its hopeless romantics to write TL;DR paragraphs on social media about their love for Dhaka. As our way of honouring its hostages'… my apologies, its residents' love for Dhaka, we have decided to rename the overused psychological term."

This development has sparked conversation all over the capital.

"This urban jungle has a place for everyone. A disease-ridden and detrimental place, but a place nonetheless," said Shadman, an avid Dhaka sympathiser.

"Last year, a picture of a sewer cleaner neck-deep inside a filthy manhole in Dhaka went viral. Where others saw the struggle of the proletariat and the dire consequences of poverty, I saw a beautiful city giving this poor man a chance to feed his family once a day and provide them with a malnourished future," he added.

"During monsoon, as you drive from Dhaka North to Dhaka South, it feels like travelling through time from the 21st century to the 18th," Shadman reminisced. "While Gulshan people get a free car wash, Jatrabari residents get buses and boats riding the same waves."

Theories suggest Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink" and B. J. Thomas's classic "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" were both written as odes to Jatrabari during monsoon.

"Dhaka is a goldmine of opportunities," said the City Federation. "That's why we keep digging the roads all year long."

Arko, a Facebook art group pioneer, shared his favourite Dhaka memory, saying, "Last year, after a month of scorching heat, it was finally the night of kalbaishakhi. After the dust settled, I stood on the 14th floor balcony of my tiny apartment, gazing at the beautiful chaos. I noticed the sparkling blue polythene houses of the homeless on the footpath, wrecked by the storm. In the still of the night, from the demolished ruins that were once a home, a skinny kid came out with his baby sister in his arms. I captured that beautiful moment with my camera, posted it on Facebook and appreciated how wholesome the moment was."

"Considering a capitalist dystopian tragedy to be wholesome is as 'Dhaka' as it gets," explained Arko's therapist Dr Sigma Fraud. "Following a restricted childhood, insufferable academic lives and toxic marriages, Dhaka's inhabitants are accustomed to abuse. So, the next time you claim to love a city that smells like urine two months following Qurbani Eid and human faeces the rest ten, know that you probably have a fixation with abuse and should get yourself medically checked."

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