Dhaka means the world to me. Most of my professional life has been here and a large chunk of my personal life is intrinsically linked with Dhaka. I am never tired of the city. Yes, there are obstacles. Yes, there are resource shortages. Yes, there are insane traffic snarls. But there is one thing which is never in short supply — great people!

On a Friday afternoon, you sit there in one of the most comfortable chairs you have ever sat on. Your eyes are closed as you relax after a long week of school or work, with the only noise in the background being a 30-year-old Bollywood film and the relentless snip-snip-snap, almost like ASMR.

Some say that living in Dhaka is not easy and for those who have lived here for years, nothing is easy. In fact, living in this city makes it easier to tolerate any other inconvenience with a hair-flip. Someone spat inches away from your feet? Tolerate. It landed on you? Wipe and move on. The world might have a fancy word like noise pollution for needlessly honking cars but we know it for what it really is — soothing white noise that one could even fall asleep to. Which happens often, during the long respites the city graciously bestows on us to and from work every day without fail. We lovingly call them traffic jams.

The man was lying flat on the road, bleeding profusely. He raised his right hand and waved weakly for help. His motorbike was lying two feet away near the road divider only 50 yards off Hotel Radisson.

Children often find it difficult to make their summer vacations productive and end up spending the whole day glued to their gadgets. As this time Ramadan and vacation have coincided it has become doubly difficult to make time for the children.

On my way from Moghbazar to Farmgate this afternoon, when I was stuck in a jam packed Panthapath road opposite to Bashundhara City shopping mall, I suddenly heard them saying those dirty words.