The Long Shadow of Death

Shayla Akhtar was on her way to university. She was sitting in the back corner of a plying Mahindra vehicle, gripping an iron rod tightly with her hand. But could her grip withstand the force of a police van crashing into them? It could not. She was thrown onto the asphalt road. She underwent surgery at Chattogram Medical College. Thirteen days later, she was sent to CRP in Dhaka. But by then, fate had already played its cruel game. From her waist down to her feet, everything was paralyzed, numb. No normal signals from her body reach her brain anymore.

On another gloomy afternoon, Inspector Abdus Sobhan set out on his motorcycle. He was heading to investigate a crime. On the way, an unknown monstrous of a vehicle hit him, crushed him, and sped away. Like Shayla, Sobhan is now confined to a wheelchair. His days pass alone, staring out the window.

Neither of these two accidents claimed a life, but they turned living people into living corpses. They robbed them of the noise of being alive. They pushed their families into an endless, bottomless pit of darkness.

People injured in road accidents represent an invisible chapter in our society. When someone dies, it makes headlines in bold letters. But what about those who are condemned to a lifetime of disability? There is a complete absence of policy-level attention from the state on this issue.

The crisis is not just about money; there is a profound lack of institutional compassion. An integrated social framework to stand by these paralyzed, helpless people has not been built in the country. Whatever little exists on paper is crushed under the grinding wheel of bureaucratic complexity. Added to this are our fragile social safety net and society's extreme indifference.

Even in our politics, the focus is mostly on death. Political deaths receive attention in various ways. But the cry of survival after an accident, the deep despair — that remains hidden.

Death in an accident is not just the loss of one person; it is actually the beginning of a lifetime of hardship for an entire family. Before the haze of grief lifts, the stove goes cold. Income stops in an instant. The food, clothing, and shelter of the surviving family members become uncertain. It is not just grief; it is an "economic shock." A family's savings, dreams, and future all shatter at once. The family sinks into long-term debt and social humiliation.

Every year, three to four hundred thousand people are injured in accidents in this country. That number is 20 to 50 times higher than the death toll. The struggle to survive after being injured is much deeper and longer. This lifelong limitation on movement does not end easily. The World Health Organization states that in low- and middle-income countries, economic losses due to road accidents account for about 2–3 percent of GDP. Bangladesh is no exception.
This paralysis is a reality even harsher than death. When earning capacity is lost, self-esteem diminishes, while mental stress and depression increase. This has now become a major public health problem. In our country, most families survive on a single earner's income. When an accident strikes, assets must be sold. The final destination ends up below the poverty line.

In this country, the word "rehabilitation" for accident victims exists only on paper. Emergency treatment may be available, but what happens after that? Long-term physiotherapy, mental health counseling, or employment opportunities — all are nonexistent.

The government does have compensation rules, but the process is like a maze. Ordinary people are not even aware of it. There is a provision to provide 500,000 taka to the families of the deceased and 300,000 taka to the seriously injured. But in reality, how many actually receive it? The application deadline has been extended from 30 to 90 days, but poor people in rural areas cannot even gather the necessary paperwork. As a result, the vast majority cannot even apply.

Our social safety net budget has exceeded billions of taka. But there is no place in it for injured people. Allegations have surfaced that portions of these funds are being withheld through various tactics by some administrators and sycophants.

Meanwhile, there is no change among the drivers. Even after training, they drive recklessly. With tired bodies and sleepy eyes, they roll their wheels mile after mile. Just as one trip ends, there is pressure to start another. Their eyes are filled with dreams of extra earnings. This greed for extra money increases speed and raises the risk of death. We have failed to make drivers understand that this oppression of their own bodies is wrong. We have not been able to give them the assurance that the state will take responsibility for their old age.

Due to a shortage of skilled drivers, inexperienced individuals are taking the wheel. On the other hand, obtaining a driving license has become as difficult as catching the moon. Hundreds of thousands of applications are kept pending, creating an artificial crisis in hopes of additional income. Passengers' fates hang by a thread. Buses set off on long-distance journeys with patched-up, worn-out tires. Rearview mirrors do not show the vehicles behind; they only show uncertainty and the fear of accidents.

It is not only drivers who commit irregularities; irregularities are embedded in file after file. For a fitness certificate that raises questions, there is allegedly a fixed bribe rate. The more problems a vehicle has, the higher the bribe amount. Even in vehicle sales and purchases, there are flaws. Ownership changes hands, but registration is not updated.

Those who deliberately create complications in obtaining driving licenses, those whose backing puts unfit vehicles on the road, those who prevent proper rest arrangements for drivers — they must be brought under punishment. Otherwise, this bloody festival on the roads will never stop.

Author: Deputy Editor, Agamir Somoy.