The Exhaustion of a Long Journey

Hello dear friends,
I hope you all are doing well and spending a beautiful life with your loved ones. I wish you all happiness and peace.

There are certain days in life that remain etched in our memory forever. These days are not filled with joy, but with grief, sorrow, and unbearable exhaustion. Yesterday was one of those days for me—my beloved grandfather passed away. Right after the Asr prayer, he breathed his last. I was still at my office when I received the shocking phone call. It was around Maghrib when the news reached me, and my whole body went numb. Without wasting another moment, I rushed out of the office to join his funeral prayer.

My grandfather’s house is in Bosugao village, Tongi upazila, Gazipur district. After struggling through multiple modes of transportation—bus, train, and auto-rickshaw—I finally reached there at 10:10 pm. But cruel fate struck—I arrived just ten minutes late. The funeral prayer had already taken place at 10:00 pm. Before I got there, the burial was nearly complete. Since it had started drizzling earlier, everyone feared heavy rain might cause trouble during the burial, so they hurried to complete it. I was only able to place the last handfuls of soil on his grave and recite a prayer. In that moment, my chest felt unbearably heavy—I couldn’t see for the last time the man who carried countless memories of my childhood.

By the time all the rituals were over, it was already 1:00 am. It was too late to return that night, so I stayed back at my grandfather’s house. The next morning, since I had office, I set out at 6:00 am for Narayanganj. But this began another round of suffering. As soon as I stepped out, I realized there were no vehicles available. After waiting a long while, I managed to hop on the back of a “leguna” and made it to Tongi. From there, I took a bus to the Airport Railway Station, where I again had to wait for almost 30 minutes. Finally, I boarded the Turag commuter train and reached Kamalapur.

But my journey was far from over. At Kamalapur, I stood waiting again—this time for a Labbaik or Lovely bus, which usually goes through Signboard towards Narayanganj. Luck failed me once more. After nearly an hour of waiting, not a single bus appeared. Left with no choice, I boarded an “Onabil” bus and got down at Signboard. From there, I switched to a Bandhan bus to Shibu Market, and finally an auto-rickshaw brought me to my office. By then, the clock struck 10:45 am.

Can you imagine? It took me four and a half hours just to travel from Tongi to Narayanganj! Every day, thousands of people travel across Dhaka and its surrounding areas, and the weak transport system makes their lives miserable. Endless traffic jams, vehicle shortages, irregular train and bus services—together these create an unbearable struggle that people silently endure every single day.

My personal experience reflects the lives of many. Whenever someone in the village falls ill or passes away, it becomes nearly impossible for those of us living in the city to reach on time. Added to that is the pain of traffic and travel. The sorrow of not being able to see a loved one for the last time leaves a permanent scar on the heart, while the long and exhausting journey leaves the body drained.

Sitting at my office today, I can’t help but wonder—if our transport system was a little better, perhaps I could have joined my grandfather’s funeral prayer on time. Not just me, but thousands of people could avoid such regret and despair if they had reliable transportation.

My grandfather is gone, and he will never return. But his memories will remain alive forever. The regret of not being able to see him one last time will haunt me always. Still, that rainy night, the crowd of people in the village lanes, the funeral prayers, and the long exhausting journey the next morning—all of it together will remain a painful yet unforgettable chapter of my life.