Just four days after the celebration of International Women’s Day, we have had an incident right here in our megacity which shows that, despite the presence of a variety of social evils plus entrenched prejudices which often seem ineradicable, women in Bangladesh have learned to be assertive.
A young girl of class 10 called Shatabdi, walking back from school, saw the transport minister on the road checking if CNGs were running on metres or not, plus the validity of public transport documents. She stopped and when the media was asking questions to the minister, raised her hand and wanted to ask a question. Allowed to come forward, the girl of class 10 voiced the suffering of many other students like her from Mirpur Shewrapara who faced the predicament of timely transport to and from school every day due to the absence of buses exclusively for women.
The minister listened to her complaint and immediately arranged for a BRTC bus service on the route from early morning the next day. Shatabdi and others found the transport waiting the following day, Sunday, March 13, and while many would want to look at the prompt response from the authority, which, of course, deserves praise, I would want to place before you one girl, a representative of many of her age, who was not hesitant in speaking up when she felt that an anomaly had to be addressed. Curiously, some channels asked the girl later, how she, a person between 14-16 years of age, had the courage to ask a question to a minister, a top government official, in front of whom most people usually remain compliant or deferential.
I think asking her this question was wrong because any minister, despite the right to rush through the road with police escorts, creating an indisputable aura of power and inaccessibility, is actually supposed to serve the people. The public representative is not supposed to be isolated in some ivory tower surrounded by sycophants and security. The question raised about the girl’s confidence shows that, subconsciously, we feel and possibly nurture the belief that an elected public official cannot be approached like any other human being.
For ages, the notion of someone in power has been carefully laced with fear and complete subservience, though it’s common sense, with such a flawed image, no public office role can possibly aim to know and solve issues inconveniencing the masses.
In the mindset of most people, the word “minister” translates to a semi God-like figure descended from Mount Olympus, who will imperiously look right and left, spewing venom on mere mortals.
Maybe that was the case in the past; in today’s world, where public representatives of other countries are seen to stand in queue or comply with rules of their respective countries, that idea of invincibility is untenable.
What is natural is that a girl like Shatabdi should get the chance to voice their grievances in front of a high official because that public representative has been appointed to listen to the people and use his power to solve their problems to the best of his ability.
The masses want very little from those in power: Just deliver the basic services on time and without irregularities. Do this, and the subtle machinations/manipulations within the power structure is of no interest to them.
Social media saluted the young girl for her courage, and one feels there are plenty more like Shatabdi who want to speak out but are unable to because they never get the opportunity.
For this girl, it was fortuitous that the minister was on the road when she was passing by. Of course, Obaidul Quader needs to be applauded for listening to the girl and then taking immediate action. Just a suggestion: From time to time, he may, as part of a plan, stop in front of schools and ask students who use public transport if they are satisfied with the prevailing services or not.
That way, the minister will be commended for taking the one-off encounter with Shatabdi as an experience to widen his “on the road” vigilance. Also, he will be doing a social deed which no one else has done in the past, thus setting an example worth emulating. As for Shatabdi, here we have a girl, or shall we say a person, from a generation that has been taught the greatest lesson of life: Unless you speak up, you won’t get what you want.
At school we read a poem by Kamini Ray which had this line: “Shongshoye songkolpo shoda tole, pache loke kichu bole, korite parina kaaj shoda bhoy, shoda laaj” (In confusion, resolution is weak, the fear of what others will say seems big, duty I cannot complete, hesitation, diffidence make me effete).
When asked by the media, the girl simply said that she had spoken out because of pent-up grievances about transport.
Today, with the whole country applauding Shatabdi for getting a bus for female students of her area, the girl of class 10 sends a profound message, resonating with our efforts to ensure gender parity. She spoke not just for a bus but for establishing her right as a citizen to brush off irrational fear and demand.
