TRIALS OF A DO-GOODER

Apiti Snoboni has moved back to Dhaka after 4 years of studying in the United States, because she believes in our development sector and wants to devote her life to helping the poor, empowering the powerless etc. Unfortunately, she has failed to convince her friends that under all her Prada clothes and D&G perfumes lies the heart of a humanitarian who can identify strongly with her tattered sari wearing, overworked bua.

She has obtained a job through her father's best friend at a local NGO -Khudharthoder Khawan, which is located in a poor, remote part of the city called Dhanmondi (she is super proud of this!). She has also purchased a new "inexpensive" wardrobe (all 365 kameezes are from boutiques on Gulshan Avenue) and has decided to go to work via public transportation. No, no not a CNG- a BUS, where she can become one with her underprivileged soul mates. 

She waits at the Kakoli bus stop on her first day of work covering her head conservatively, with her dupatta. A few feet behind her stands her devoted chauffer (at her father's insistence), determined to follow her to work. After having mistaken several buses for her own (her Bangla isn't the best after all those years abroad), her bus arrives, and to her extreme confusion the mile long line of people waiting for it try to get inside all at once! She is rudely pushed and shoved aside as people climb in and she wonders how there is space enough for everyone! Her chauffer finally elbows people to help her in and she suddenly finds herself sandwiched between two lungi clad passengers who she is sure, have never heard of deodorant. 

She looks expectantly around at the young men sitting, waiting to be offered one of their seats, but chivalry, it seems, has died in this battle field. Suddenly she feels an anonymous pinch on her side as she is jerked around during the bumpy never-ending ride. Nevermind, she will be dignified and will set an example for them all, she thinks, as people scream at her to move, from all directions.

As the bus driver swings around a corner like he's driving a sports car, a woman next to Apiti, to her horror, leans over to the window and starts vomiting. Shockingly, everyone seems quite nonchalant about this- -her brain screams "Remain calm, DON'T PANIC!" Her resolution, however, is tested beyond all limits as the men sandwiching her discard phlegmy spit millimetres away from her new kolapuris (disgusting!).  

By now her polite façade has crumbled as she aggressively pushes into a newly vacated seat yelling loudly at a chubby lady who is also trying to knee her way in. After two and half excruciating hours, she finally arrives at her destination her make-up running and hair matted --the bus is not air-conditioned though it sports a sign that says it is. Almost in tears now, she is informed by her chauffer that she needs to jump out as the bus nears her stop. "If it stops, too many people will try to get in," he informs her as though this is a perfectly acceptable explanation. As she lands on all fours, she sheds her sweat soaked dupatta along with her desire to become the ultimate do-gooder, and grabs the next air-conditioned taxi to the nearest spa.