A few days ago, I had the pleasure to roam around the city well past my bedtime, and even though this might be all too normal for some out there, it was still something that is out of the ordinary for me, so undoubtedly, I enjoyed it tremendously.
Dhaka, the city of chaos, has a whole new sight to it after midnight. The roads that are always packed and bustling with crowd turns into barren wastelands when people go to sleep, and the only witness to this otherworldly scene are those who roam the nights on the regular. Even though the city itself is said to be a city that never sleeps, which is true in certain places like the old Dhaka, but still, in some places, the city does sleep, and getting to roam around those streets was an experience I would not be forgetting any time soon.
It’s almost a mystifying feeling, looking out of your car window, watching as the streets you are familiar with pass by in a blur as a slight drizzle of rain blur up the glasses You'd feel that any moment the sky might break out into a thunderous storm and wash everything away in seconds, but the moment never comes, so you watch the streets feeling a sort of emptiness you’ve never felt before, wondering just what is missing outside of your window, trying hard to not think about what’s missing inside your mind.
Nights have always left a sense of loneliness in me. It’s a time when I think most of us are left alone with our thoughts, and when you find yourself in situations that act like a catalyst to all the feelings you try best to shove under your bed, it is unsettling, in a bittersweet way. And when you are presented with situations like this in months like November, well, you best bet that it would be something unavoidable.
But like the complete masochist that I am, I thoroughly enjoyed “the-midlife-crisis-going-on-at-twenty-four” I faced that night, breathing in the uncertainty and helplessness these things bring like a pro.
Okay, enough about me, back to the midnight city I was talking about.
Now, what attracted me the most from the barren city that night was the cars. You could only see a handful of them here and there, and, they would zoom past you before you could blink on the empty roads. But among them, there would be some cars that would drive slow and steady, and when you get stopped by the red lights, you would be provided with a little bit of a glimpse of the people inside those vehicles.
As I have an over-imaginative mind, just one look at them had me building up stories inside my head, making me squirm with yearning and…. well, I don't know how to explain the feeling, honestly. It’s almost like the feeling you get seeing a movie. You know full well what you are seeing is not real and can never be yours, but you still feel a bittersweet sort of ’what-if’ play out inside your head, thinking about how the people in the movie might live their lives, thinking if those lives are better than yours.
It’s not jealousy you feel, no. You hardly know these people. But seeing them hold their hands in their car, or someone sleeping soundly while the other kept their steady hands on the wheel makes you wonder all the same; if they are happy like you. If they are sad like you. If they also bear the burden of constant self-doubt and helplessness as you do.
I think what makes me do all this is because of the contrasting way we humans live from each other. It’s a mellow kind of desperation within me I guess, to find out if this contrast is only on the outside or not. It’s an act of seeking assurance, that in the end I’m not the only one who sits inside cars and looks out into the lives of people, thinking if they feel the same way as I do. That with me staring into a car's window, there is always someone out there staring back at mine, wondering about the same things, while rushing towards the unknown.