Partha Prathim Sadhu, Bangladesh
Devoid of Gentlemen

There is a strange silence everywhere. I think to myself, this is not my city. This is not the city I have been living in for such a long time. I can no longer hear the oppressive and commanding voices of “gentlemen”. There is no discussion about getting an MBA amongst “ultra modern” girls, no school-going boy having a smoke, not even a young executive talking about life insurance or the state of the IT sector, about delicious food or a recent foreign tour.

This is Dhaka city in the dead of night. An occasional heavily-loaded lorry seems to shake the whole city. Workers are glittering with sweat as they stand under sodium lights. A mere shift in light, from day to night, divides people in the city. And somehow it has been decided that while the wealthy sleep, someone else will spend the whole night taking care of their wealth. Some will carry goods for the profit-makers. Some will prepare for the consumer class to be able to fulfill their commonplace desires in the morning. And some street girls will take responsibility for removing the fatigue of these very night workers.

This city is not the city I have known, but I find comfort in it. And I find comfort in it because it becomes a city of ‘needs’ and not ‘wants’. It is fresh, and alive and vibrant; but most of all, it is devoid of those I despise most – it is devoid of gentlemen.