The incident that happened earlier this year, when news of the death of a mother who was found several days after she passed away and none of her children took any notice of this matter, made us quietly realise how the busy life of Dhaka is making us lonely.
Every time I leave my grandparents’ house, I feel guilty because I know that once we all leave, this house will feel empty again. My grandparents will be all alone in this huge house until the next vacation.
It is our elders who need us by their side more than anyone else. However, the lack of time and the cruelty of busy life seem to make the exact opposite happen. Nowadays, everyone seems to be busy with their life. Spending time with family or friends ends up in missed deadlines. Cities did manage to integrate the roads but unfortunately forgot to integrate our lives. Buildings are rising and so are the boundaries between people’s lives.
Starting from the student living in a medical hostel with dreams of cracking MBBS, to the father working in the garments industry to send enough money back home, many people have to live alone in Dhaka to pursue their dreams.
You realise how much you miss the huge bowl of muri makha and fritters made by your sister or the fragrance from that huge tray of teacups that your mother brings each time the house is full of guests. Now, instead of that, it is just you, seeking catharsis from the lone eagle flying high in the sky while you sip on instant coffee sachets and wonder about how your boss will fire you after being late again.
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Photo: Jawwad Sami Neogi
The most brutal form of loneliness is perhaps for the military trainees, for whom, a weekly 15-minute call with family often ends with the question, “Baba, when are you coming home?”
The question, however, is sometimes left unanswered forever.
For those in Dhaka who live alone on footpaths and beside canals, who do not even have a home to begin with, and some of whom do not even know their families or their own identities, loneliness is simply an understatement.
There is yet another kind of loneliness in Dhaka, the kind experienced by the people who, even after being surrounded by people, have that emptiness inside their heart that aches. Everyone sees you but no one really knows you fully.
Maybe a city that is always on the go, a city that never waits for anyone, was not meant for the people whose petals on flower bouquets faded while waiting for the right person, who waited for the right moment until the coffee got cold. Dhaka will give you everything it promises, but at the cost of it all, make you distant from the very people you wanted to make happy and proud in the first place.
