In the age of great philosophical questions, one more perplexing question haunts the citizens of Bangladesh: “To buy, or not to buy onions?”
If only Shakespeare had the foresight to ponder the onion crisis, perhaps we could have mustered some philosophical solace while our wallets shrank faster than the quality of government promises.
Like some tragic hero out of a Charles Dickens novel, the Bangladeshi consumer trudges through the streets of Dhaka, trying to make sense of a world where the prices of essential goods defy the laws of reason. Eggs, those once-humble oval wonders, are now priced as if they were freshly laid by golden hens, under the meticulous watch of King Midas himself.
Yet, the government assures us that everything is under control, much like Captain Ahab insisted that hunting the white whale was all part of a well-thought-out plan.
“Inflation is temporary,” they say. But like the curse that doomed Oedipus, this inflation shows no sign of departing, despite every fiscal and monetary ritual they’ve performed. Perhaps they missed the part where Oedipus had to gouge out his eyes before the plague ended. Here, the gouging is being done at the market stalls -- one pocket at a time.
Act I: The rise of the syndicate
The term “syndicate” is thrown around with the same nonchalance as “corruption” was during the reign of past governments. It’s almost comforting, in a Stockholm syndrome kind of way, to know that while the actors have changed, the script remains the same.
Much like Orwell’s Animal Farm, where the pigs became indistinguishable from the humans they replaced, the syndicates of yore have simply been replaced by new ones. The only thing they’ve managed to perfect is the art of keeping our breakfast tables devoid of eggs without feeling the slightest bit of shame.
Consider the tale of eggs -- a story that would have baffled even Kafka. Overnight, the price of a dozen eggs plummeted by Tk 20, thanks to the mere whiff of an impending government decision to allow imports. It’s as though these corporate overlords operate not in the real world but in a Borges-inspired labyrinth of illusions, manipulating supply and demand like tricksters straight out of “The Garden of Forking Paths.”
What’s next? Will our kitchen staples be rationed like contraband, sold in shadowy back alleys under the dim light of a single flickering bulb? Wait -- I think I saw that happening at Karwan Bazar just last week.
Act II: The interim government’s magical thinking
If Alice in Wonderland has taught us anything, it’s that when logic fails, a bit of magic might be just what the doctor ordered.
Our interim government has certainly tried a bit of that -- lowering import duties here, summoning task forces there -- hoping that waving a wand would transform the marketplace into a land of plenty.
“Eat me,” says the inflation monster, growing larger with every failed attempt at controlling the prices of essentials. The poor consumer, shrinking ever smaller, stares up at this behemoth and wonders whether anything will ever be affordable again.
The price of rice, for example, has skyrocketed despite assurances that the country is swimming in surplus. It seems we’ve entered an alternate reality where more production equals less availability. What’s next? A bumper harvest of potatoes leading to a famine?
If Dante were alive today, he’d add a tenth circle to his inferno: One where consumers are eternally scammed by syndicates, and indifferent policymakers are condemned to roam markets filled with overpriced goods they can’t afford.
Even Prof Yunus, our interim chief, mentioned that tackling inflation was high on his to-do list. Between all his well-meaning microfinance theories, maybe he forgot that macroeconomics is a far messier beast -- one that doesn’t respond well to good intentions alone.
As we await fiscal miracles, we’re left with TS Eliot’s line: “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.” Or in this case, with the faint rustle of an empty wallet.
It seems we’ve entered an alternate reality where more production equals less availability
Act III: The never-ending queue of excuses
But how can we ignore all the natural calamities? Floods, heavy rains, and crop failures have been trotted out like the tragic backstory of every soap opera villain. You see, it’s not the fault of the market or the government -- it’s the cruel, unforgiving weather!
Of course, that doesn’t explain why onions continue to cost an arm and a leg even though, according to the Department of Agricultural Extension, we produce more than we need. Clearly, someone’s been reading A Song of Ice and Fire and decided to play the long game of winter vegetables, keeping prices as high as the Iron Throne’s stakes.
And then there’s the spectre of the previous government, still blamed for everything from high prices to clogged drains. The Awami League’s legacy looms over the present.
Sure, their years in power were marked by price hikes, but surely this government -- a phoenix rising from the ashes of a student-led revolt -- could have done better than to turn the ashes into even higher grocery bills?
But no, the syndicates are still out there, as menacing and omnipresent as Macbeth’s witches, stirring their cauldrons and cackling at our misfortunes. “Double, double, toil and trouble,” they chant, while we wait for prices to drop. Spoiler: They won’t.
Epilogue. When hunger is your new best friend
The great economist John Maynard Keynes once said, “In the long run, we are all dead.” Perhaps he was thinking of a world where inflation, like death itself, is inevitable and inescapable.
While the current government struggles, the people of Bangladesh are left wondering if there will ever be a “normal” that doesn’t involve skipping meals to make ends meet.
Until then, we’ll continue to navigate this bizarre, Kafkaesque world where grocery shopping feels more like a dystopian survival game. The only question is: Will we ever get a happy ending? Or are we doomed to live out the rest of our days as tragic characters in the never-ending farce that is the Bangladeshi market economy?
HM Nazmul Alam, Lecturer, Department of English and Modern Languages, International University of Business, Agriculture and Technology.
