Death Of Dinesh Das, A Third Or Fourth World Journalist

Again there is another death on a Dhaka street. The latest victim is Dinesh Das, a Third or Fourth World journalist. And, it is almost the same tale of a Third or Fourth World city, its traffic management system, and of a part of a society with its indifference, brutality and callousness.

The accident-account is the same old story: an indifferent bigger vehicle’s wheels crushed a smaller one, the smaller vehicle rider was the unfortunate guy, a wrong time and a wrong place for the lone rider, brutal high speed and hapless slow speed, and an ill-managed traffic system in an illogical city. What’s the output of the irrational equation? Last journey of a life.

The story turns unbearable as one gathers information from press: the journalist was without job, without money, without the capacity to enroll his small daughter in school, was failing to pay monthly house rent. The brutal facts are bared before a citizenry: a brutal system – you have to work and work, you have to run and run in a nasty rat race simply for keeping your nose afloat, you have to pass each and every day throughout your life of uncertainty, you have to be faithful to the system, you have to serve the system, and there will be brutal wheels waiting and running for you to crush, to send your spouse to the same circle without any escape route. And, then, all after this “kind” arrangement of the system, you, a journalist, you a teacher, you all have to be diligent to work, be faithful to duty designed by meager salary, be incorrupt, and be the mirror of honesty. And, your knowledge will allow you to be aware of the intricacies of plundering tricks, but your knowledge of alertness will tell you not to tell the tricky plundering truths. Nice punishment sticks are in the wings if you deviate, if you fail to serve faithfully, if you turn rude, if you nourish audacity deep in your bosom. What happens if you turn a renegade to the system? You will be punished, punished with uncertainty, unemployment, grinding poverty, will be pressed to the dust.

In the case of Dinesh, arguments and counter-arguments can be devised and thrown around. To some, he was rude, unscrupulous, disobedient. Thread bare analysis of his character will provide arguments for his character assassination. To many, he was a kind-hearted, honest professional, uncompromising, faithful to humanity, profession and family, a person keeping head high. Different perspectives provide comparative arguments. An individual is a product of the individual’s time and space, a product of social reality. This piece is neither to denounce Dinesh nor to eulogize the dead. Friends and colleagues of Dinesh will carry on the task. Whatever he was, that does not allow anyone to take away his life, does not permit anyone to push his family to den of uncertain days.

This piece is simply to once again tell the vulnerability of life in this city. How fragile life is in this city! How many journalists, students, poor pedestrians have paid with their lives in this city dominated by wheels? A few days back, Nikhil Bhadra encountered a brute fact in this indifferent city. The journalist lost his leg in the city street. Rest of his life? Who knows?

What happens to the families of these victims? Does the society that tries its best to expand informal sector have devised any arrangement for the victims and their families other than begging mercy and help? An inglorious path for mere survival! The social division of labor ensures smooth revolving of wheels of the society, ensures pressed life every day, presents gloomy days throughout life for millions. It ensures this guy shall be a peddler, that fellow will be a journalist, that person will be a policeman, this man shall be a teacher, that woman will be a nurse. Then it demands dutifulness and honesty of millions. Dinesh was only one of those faceless millions. Nikhil is another. Other journalist pressed under wheels months back was another. No social security, no established medical facilities for these victims! Yes, there are mercy and benevolence.

But, doesn’t the society manage bigger affairs and events with bigger money? Doesn’t the society organize bigger arrangements? Yes, there are all those but social security of Dinesh, a jobless journalist who had to rely on the last savings of his wife, only Taka one hundred and fifty or about two dollars diligently saved over months in an earthen pot, in the last day of his life.

Does the society lack that money resource that can ensure social security of journalists, of other working people? The level of surplus labor produced in the society and appropriated and robbed are evident in private celebrations, luxuries, vehicles in the capital city and villas now coming up around. Does logic tell that all after all these huge surplus labor produced working people have to languish in uncertain life, a crushed journalist’s wife has to face uncertain future waiting for mercy and benevolence? Should there be lack of resource to organize a safer traffic management system in the capital city and all over the country? And, for how long shall this state of business move on? Journalists, somebody identifies them as kalam saineek, soldiers of truth armed with pen, now aggrieved and tormented with the painful death of Dinesh Das shall search answers to the questions, the questions of livable, safer city, of a safer traffic management system, social security, and of a decent, dignified life for all journalists, for all working people.