It was 2013 in Dhaka. Dhanmondi 27. A rogue motor-biker, helmet-less and indignant, nearly mows me down on a sidewalk. His glare accuses me of “existing” -- a pedestrian obstructing his asphalt kingdom.
“As if you don’t do it,” he hisses, invoking Bangladesh’s unwritten social contract: Everyone’s guilty, so no one’s guilty.
The encounter crystallizes Dhaka’s governance ethos -- a zero-sum moral free-for-all where blame is currency, and accountability evaporates like monsoon rain.
I retreat, my Royal Enfield dreams deferred, pondering: Is this city a failed state… or a masterclass in anarchic equilibrium?
Governance as traffic jam
Dhaka’s traffic isn’t just gridlock; it’s a live-action allegory of governance. The judicial system, civil administration, and citizens mirror the chaos of Mirpur Road:
- Judiciary: A traffic light stuck on red, ignored by all
- Police: Underpaid baton-wielders negotiating bribes instead of lanes
- Citizens: Pedestrians-turned-guerrillas, jaywalking through loopholes
The 2024 “Monsoon Revolution” promised order but merely swapped drivers in the same jalopy. Nobel laureates and coup plotters alike navigate this labyrinth, where progress means surviving the day without a fender bender.
Here’s a question: What does a Dhaka traffic light symbolize?
Answer: The illusion of choice.
In a city where red means “accelerate” and green means “pray,” governance mirrors this paradox. The judiciary’s 3.7 million case backlog echoes the Tk227 crore ($28.4M) lost monthly to gridlock.
Citizens opt for shalish (traditional mediation), bypassing courts like rickshaws swerving past SUVs.
As Marx observed in Capital: “The ruling ideas are the ideas of the ruling class.”
Here, the ruling idea is jugaad -- duct-taped pragmatism.
When a donor-funded NGO proposes “sustainable carbon-neutral traffic solutions,” Dhaka laughs. Sustainability is surviving today’s commute.
Scenes from the chaos
- Mad Max: Fury Road (2015): Swap sand for potholes, war rigs for CNG autos. Immortan Joe? He’s the traffic cop auctioning lane permits.
- The Dark Knight (2008): “You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.” Dhaka’s mayors, stripped of power like Annisul Huq, resign to trimming hedges while hawkers colonize sidewalks.
- Waiting for Godot (Stage Adaptation): Pozzo (IMF consultant) whips Lucky (local bureaucrat) into drafting reforms. They wait for a “governance consultant” who never arrives.
Donor agency hacks at high tea
Setting: A sterile Geneva boardroom. PowerPoint titled “Bangladesh: Corrupted but Cute.”
Claire (USAID): “Their traffic congestion costs $11.4b annually! We’ll fund a metro rail” (with conditionalities).
Lars (EU): “Nein. First, we must democratize democracy. Also, mango trees offend our ESG metrics.”
Rajiv (World Bank): “Let’s monetize the chaos! Dhaka Traffic Bonds -- AAA rating, guaranteed by rickshaw collateral.”
They clink porcelain cups, oblivious to the motorbiker outside flipping them off.
Dhaka’s governance thrives not despite its contradictions but because of them
Playlist to systemic collapse
- Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere: Dhaka’s unofficial anthem. “We’re on a road to nowhere… let’s ride the Royal Enfield!”
- Beastie Boys - Sabotage: For every traffic cop taking a bribe. “I’m yellin’ like a kettle, why you gotta hafta violate?”
- Ravi Shankar - Dhun: Dadra & Kafi: Sitar strains drowned out by bus horns. “Art survives entropy”… barely.
- U2 - Where the Streets Have No Name: A soaring anthem about escaping urban anonymity, mirroring Dhaka’s labyrinthine streets and the quest for meaning in chaos.
- Beck - Loser: A slacker anthem with absurdist lyrics (Soy un perdedor / I’m a loser, baby) that captures the dark humour of navigating futility -- perfect for Dhaka’s traffic jams.
- Habib Wahid - Dhaka Nights: A Bangladeshi electronic track blending synth beats with local folk motifs, embodying the city’s restless, neon-lit energy.
- Ashes - Dhanmondi in the Rain: A Bangladeshi indie-rock parody of Dhaka’s monsoon madness, blending sarcastic lyrics with jangly guitars.
The Enfield epiphany
My Royal Enfield dream gathers dust, a metaphor for governance paralysis. To ride it would require “moral absolution”-- a luxury Dhaka denies.
Yet, as B K Jahangir wrote: “The delta’s children thrive in flux.” Perhaps the answer isn’t order but mastered chaos: A nation built on rickshaw lanes and re-setting Wi-Fi routers several times a day, where survival is the ultimate reform.
The cannibal city’s creed
“You stab my back, I’ll slash your tires. But let’s split a cup of cha afterward.”
Dhaka’s governance thrives not despite its contradictions but because of them. As the motorbiker taught me: In a city where everyone’s guilty, the only crime is expecting justice.
Further reading
- Human Rights and Governance: Bangladesh (ALRC, 2013) -- A autopsy of institutional rot
- State of Cities 2016: Traffic Congestion in Dhaka City (BRAC, 2016) -- Why hawkers > highways
- Animal Farm (Orwell) and Lord of the Flies (Golding) -- Required reading for Dhaka’s power brokers.
Last Sip: “Dhaka doesn’t need saviours. It needs better stunt doubles.”
Zakir Kibria is a writer and nicotine fugitive. Once successfully smuggled a lighter through three continents. Entrepreneur | Chronicler of Entropy | Cognitive Dissident. Chasing next caffeine fix, immersive auditory haze, free falls. Collector of glances. “Some desires defy gravity.” Email: [email protected].
