Living in a megacity surely means residing amidst the growth and progress in most parts of the world. However, the population in Dhaka experiences both exhaustion and privileges residing in the urban structure of the capital city.
Let's not go far back. We’re in the middle of the holy month of Ramadan. Haven't an enormous number of residents, be it poor or middle class or maybe the upright upper class working people, missed an iftar due to intolerable traffic jams?
And that's just the beginning -- one among the myriad issues we have taken for granted and have been forced to live with.
And for what? Higher living standards, quality education, urban facilities -- the list can go taller with thousands of facilities a human desires.
The government ensures that urban development is taking place and per capita income is increasing, along with the population of course. And we know, while living in an environmental catastrophe every day, that none of those claims are factually false. But once in a blue moon, when a random social media post shows us a less developed Dhaka with a much lesser population, we find ourselves on a nostalgic ride. Like a famous song goes:
"I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone"
However, a megacity grows in two different models in developed and developing countries. Where resources and wealth are the main catalysts behind shaping megacities in the developed world, megacities in developing countries are more likely a result of "poor-country urbanization." They widely remain unplanned and unstructured under immense population pressure.
According to Harvard University economist Edward Glaeser, by 2011, the urbanization rate of less developed countries stood at 47%. Whereas the rate was merely 10% in 1960.
The urban-centric population growth has pushed behind the classic development-based definition of megacities. Cities like Dhaka, Karachi, and Lagos are textbook examples of this phenomenon.
However, let's revisit some recent achievements Dhaka has unlocked. The latest report of the United Nations Environment Program confirms Dhaka is the world's noisiest city. Simply put, many of us wouldn't even recognize our ears are bleeding with 119 decibels noise levels without this global acknowledgement. Hence, higher noise levels are what we take for granted without choice.
There are some more to add that have made the headlines in recent days. Beef price reaching Tk700-750 per kg is one anticipated price hike during Ramadan. Speaking of soybean oil, or “celebrity vegetable” eggplant will be redundant in this regard.
The Centre for Policy Dialogue (CPD) stated the current price situation in the market to be onerous for the middle-income people. It puts the low- and lower-income populations into a more adverse position.
Dhaka's population is increasing every day. Currently, it's the world's sixth most populous city. As of 2022, the metropolitan shelters over 22 million citizens with a density of 23,234 people per square kilometre. It has experienced a 3.39% increase in population since 2021 itself.
Recently, a report caught everyone's attention. It asserted that even a Tk50,000 per month salary is not enough to run a middle-class family in Dhaka.
A middle-class employee with a mid-level job spends his valuable time, energy, and 90% of his salary to pay off the house rent, groceries, transportation, and medicine and other bills. Ironically, the 40th most expensive city in the world is more costly than luxurious Dubai.
If a common person has to think twice before buying overpriced watermelon and beef halim for iftar, then definitely, things have gone wildly opposite to what he expected as a middle-class earner.
But how do we still keep up in this metropolis? Of course, we might breathe, hear, and see less due to nascent pollution. But what happens to our spirit and thrust for ecstasy after this much collateral decay?
In Puran Dhaka mohollas during Ramadan, you'll find some old person singing an even older Urdu hymn with a tin drum to wake people up for sehri. These old men barely know their benevolent service is no longer required in 2022. But as soon as they start chanting, we know it's time to heat the food or prepare the table. Their major utility is shifted by a minor one. But is the old man aware of it?
In the sixth most populous city in the world, most of us are like the old man -- big dreams but contribute a minor part to the greater welfare.
And every morning, we wake up to confront another soul-wrenching experience on the roads, offices, markets, and newspaper front pages. Yet, surprisingly, we don't necessarily need a pinprick to keep us going through the show. We know that it's time to go.
When I see a big line of vehicles stuck in traffic for hours, I often wonder: Could a zombie movie be any more frightening than seeing thousands of people sitting stagnantly?
Mohammad Sifat is a freelance contributor.