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Dear Prof Yunus,
   I read the abridged version of your address, entitled ‘If I could be the chairman of the Anti-corruption commission’, through the courtesy of an English language daily. I am attributing the content of your address a ‘Dream’, not a Utopia. At the outset, I must apologize for not sharing your happiness and, according to your own claim, the happiness of the citizens of the country at the formation of the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC). We have seen many such commissions, one even headed by Justice Sultan Hossain Khan himself, over the years. However, the report of any such commission never saw the light of day. It is a widely conceived perception that the core of our corruption is situated at the nucleus of the government, regardless of the party in power. Does one have to be a graduate of the Kennedy School of Government to apprehend that a government, in its good sense, would create a commission to expose itself and punish itself for its own mischief? Nevertheless, I am giving you the complete benefit of doubt that the ACC was formed with a noble intention to annihilate corruption and you would be given the absolute authority to choose your own human resources, including its secretary, and you would have the full authority to draw your required financial resources from the national exchequer.
   Your whole wish-list is based on a scenario that sounds very much foreign to Bangladesh. While reading through it, I thought for a while you must be dreaming of yourself as working in Helsinki or Singapore, a much closer destination from geo-cultural considerations. It seems you are very much indifferent (not ignorant) to the unique position Bangladesh holds among the community of un(failed) states. If you have the statistics under your hold, you will discover that the lawmakers of Bangladesh spend the highest amount of money, only next to the US, to get elected to parliament, while a lawmaker in Finland (the least corrupt nation according to TI) or Singapore (the least corrupt country in Asia) spends, on an average, a meagre ten thousand dollars to get elected to serve the nation as a lawmaker. Is there any country on the globe, which itself claims to be a democracy, where a person convicted for corruption and found guilty of aiding an extra-constitutional usurpation of state power through unconstitutional dissolution of parliament appointed as the minister for the important portfolio such as law and parliamentary affairs itself? This is a country where the partisan zeal is so naked that a law professor, who supposedly teaches law, writes columns supporting killing by so-called ‘crossfire’, a flagrant disregard for the rule of law. This is the country where we find a dearth of judges to try even the self-confessed killers of a man whose voice, in your own words, ‘was strong enough to quell the sophisticated fire power of the Pakistanis’. The people of this country are so much forgivable (may be forgetful) that even the alleged war criminals are voted to run the helm of state affairs within a short span of thirty years. The list will never be an exhaustive one.
   In your model dream you have made a very flawed assumption. Yes, every citizen supports the ACC as long as he himself is outside the loop. Our people seldom cherish the concept of self-criticism. The most horrendous truth is that corruption is not a social stigma in our society. The dignity and power of an individual is decided by the amount of money he holds. If an individual has the money, he can acquire dignity and power; people hardly care how the money was earned. A former dictator, who was overthrown from power through a mass movement and was subsequently convicted of corruption of multiple counts, a rare occurrence in our system, is still a very worthy person and both the government and the opposition are trying hard to court him. Recent inhuman and utterly uncivilized acts of the government involving his wife only show how much the government values his presence in its fold. In any other society, where even the faintest civility exists, he would be a man in oblivion.
   In your dream plan you want to bring people back to the fold of honesty through reward, an imaginative proposition indeed! In no other society the proverb, ‘chora na shone dharmer kahini’ (black will take no other hue) is more appropriately applicable than in our beloved Bangladesh. So that recourse of yours would be doomed only to elude ridicule. Between two persons working in the same job, the one with honesty (naturally poor) is considered a worthless ‘idiot’ even by his close family members, let alone by the rest of society. I am scared to death with your idea of forming a ‘Sufferers Association’; you expect its members to come to ACC with evidence. Did you not know of the fate poor Nuruzzaman had to endure by bringing a simple allegation of bribery demand against the son of a minister? As a citizen, let alone an illustrious one, I did not come across any words of sympathy or protest from you to rescue Nuruzzaman from the cruel arms of the state machinery. It was no other than Irene Khan, the chief of Amnesty International, who had to issue statement of condemnation in favour of the poor sufferer. How many of your citizens, who you believe are your ‘human resources’, came out with any words of sympathy or empathy, let alone coming down to the street to protest against the torture? Do you still remember the name of a now obscure man who as secretary to the PM issued merely a memo ordering an investigation into an allegation of irregularities, in which among others, the PM’s son was allegedly involved? Did you or any other member of the so-called civil society come out supporting his noble initiative or provide him with any moral support in his effort to rescue himself from the wrath of the government? As a highly informed person about affairs around the globe, you surely remember how Mark Thatcher’s business deal was investigated without any fear or fervour by British government officials when his mother, the Iron Lady, was the all powerful PM of the British Isles?
   The most notable and encouraging exception is our fourth estate, the media. They have kept our hopes alive by publishing stories compared to which Tehelka.com sounds like a Robin Hood story. Albeit these are only the tip of the iceberg of corruption that has engulfed our nation. In the process Bangladesh has become the most dangerous place for journalists to work in the last three years. But what difference does it make to any one, Professor Yunus? After the publication of the stories of corruption of a senior minister involving crores of taka, a parliamentary committee, comprising the members of his own party, was formed to investigate the allegation. However, people of the country have never known the fate of that committee or its findings, if there are any. As if that was enough, only last year the same minister donated thirty crores worth of state property to an NGO headed by his wife and publicly defended his ‘generous’ action in the face of severe criticism from many quarters. Only the other day, an opposition MP was enticed to join the main component of the ruling alliance in return for a payment of his invoice amounting to a staggering fourteen crores, which the government owed him. If such a story were to be published in the news media of any other democracy, what would be the fate of the government, Professor Yunus? In Singapore, a finance minister of the then PM Lee Kwan Yew’s cabinet committed suicide when some financial irregularities involving the minister appeared in the news media.
   I fully identify myself with your determination when you say, ‘I would terrorise those areas so ferociously that people would have to think twice before getting engaged in corruption’ or ‘my big job will be creating fear in the minds of the corrupt people, not for the time being but permanently’. How would you do that, Prof Yunus? You have only jaws, but not the teeth. Your mandate is limited to investigation and framing charges; you have no power to prosecute anyone. You must admit that an impartial (independence is a frightening authority without impartiality) judiciary is the minimum pre-requisite to dispense proper justice, since it could be hardly overemphasized that the unflinching execution of law is the most effective deterrent against potential defiance of it. Over the years the anti corruption bureau has framed charges against hundreds of individuals, but the people of the country have seen not many convictions. Many of the cases have been withdrawn by executive order while the rest of them have been outright quashed by the higher court, apparently due to the absence of merit, in the judgement of the judges, in the charges. With the highly politicized judiciary on your side, you may be able to obtain, at best, a conviction of a poor loan defaulter from some remote village of the country. Unfortunately, the age-old saying that ‘justice delayed is justice denied’ is not more vividly applicable to any other place than Bangladesh. On the contrary, during the long years of rule by Oxford-educated Lee Kwan Yew or during the current premiership of his worthy son Harvard-educated Lee Hsien Loong, it would be to rare to discover even a single case in the archive which has been quashed by the court of law in Singapore. If we were fortunate to have executive and judicial organs that could emulate those of Singapore even to a little extent, you would have good reasons to feel ‘jealous of Justice Sultan Hossain Khan’.
   Notwithstanding everything, if you would still go ahead to materialize your plan and persist with your mission to investigate the corruption of the rich and powerful, I apprehend two dreadful situations waiting for you. In the more palatable of the two, you may meet the fate of no better than the President of the Republic, once a faithful party loyalist, whose only fault was to obey the constitution of the Republic. In the other scenario, God forbid, you could be the victim of some lethal grenade attack, a very common phenomenon in today’s Bangladesh. If that misfortune happens, leaders around the globe, including the UN chief, would send messages of condolence and condemnation to the PM and would demand an independent enquiry, even by the FBI. If there is a judicial enquiry, we would know from the leaked information in the media that some unknown foreign power was involved; the power which got envious of the respect that Professor Yunus brought in the international arena for Bangladesh.
   For Heaven’s sake, we do not want that dreadful tragedy to happen, Professor Yunus.
   Dr Mozammel H Khan is the Convenor of the Canadian Committee for Human Rights and Democracy in Bangladesh. He writes from Toronto, Canada

For expatriates, coming back to the country is always a special event and even the most die-hard foreign lover cannot but get a little moist eyed when he/she comes to Bangladesh for a holiday. In fact, when people like us who stay abroad come back after a long time, the negative sides of the country are never noticed. The desire to be in Bangladesh is so intense that we ignore the dilapidated roads, the mismanagement and try to focus on the positive sides - the flyover, the development, the flashy cars, the up-market urban youth and of course RAB. When RAB came into the scene I was in New York, working my hours and earning money to send back home but even in that hectic schedule the introduction of a new force did not evade my attention. ‘At last there will proper law and order,’ I thought, and my belief was compounded when I heard later on that the behaviour of this force towards the general people was exceptionally civil. Sadly, coming back to the country, the image that I had has suffered a severe and an irreparable dent.
   The other night (12th of May, midnight) I along with a friend of mine came out for a relaxed rickshaw ride when we were apprehended by members of RAB near Science Laboratory. Willing to co-operate we came down from the three-wheeler and I am sorry to say the brusque behaviour of one of the uniformed men shocked me. ‘Only 420’s go out at this hour,’ he said and when I told him that we had come out for a cup of tea and a ride he summarily dismissed me saying, ‘Who takes tea at this hour,?Go back home.’ My friend wearing shorts wasn’t spared either and the man in uniform pointed at his legs and said, ‘Does our culture permit this kind of attire?’ Naturally we were a bit taken aback by his behaviour but thought it prudent to keep quiet.
   Of course we were outraged and as we couldn’t call anyone (unfortunately we are not related to any minister or high official) we thought it best to express our grievance through these columns.
   My first question is, have we got a curfew in the city after midnight? If the answer is no then, why should our movements be dictated and restricted by the law? The point may be that as the roads are not safe people are discouraged to move about after midnight. But if that is the case then in what manner should the members of law warn the citizens, especially expatriates, who if I am not mistaken send back crisp dollar notes back home. Should they use word like ‘420’? And then, why should the roads be unsafe? What are the members of the force doing? Aren’t they supposed to deter crime so that we may feel safe?
   The second point is, I am a citizen of a democratic country ( at least that is what I believe) and if I choose then I can go out of my house any time I want to unless a state of emergency has been declared – if that is right then why did the member of RAB order me to go back?
   Thirdly, what culture was he talking about? I have noticed young people wearing shorts in the shopping malls and in other places but I didn’t see any law enforcer trying to stop that referring to the so called ‘desecration of our culture.’ In Gulshan there are clubs where people wear far more revealing clothes but why don’t we see the authority cracking down on them? In local films, women dance revealing their cleavage and navel, is that included in our culture? I don’t think so, but that doesn’t stop anyone from stopping the production of films?
   My question is: why have the authorities introduced RAB? To help the people or to alienate them? But if this is the kind of behaviour we get then how can we expect to relate to them as friends of the people? The police have already tarnished their image through corruption and malpractice and people in general have developed an affinity towards RAB due to its efficiency. But it stands to reason that incidents like the one we experienced will definitely bring down the special force.
   My experience may be an isolated one but it has left me with an ambivalent attitude towards law and order. Honestly speaking, the feeling with which I came from New York has now evaporated. I am compelled to say that we expatriates work abroad and send back money not to come back to be treated like criminals. A little courtesy wouldn’t have prompted me to write this letter and I am sorry to say that I and my friend were subjected to the kind of behaviour which we have never encountered in the United States. Hopefully, the government will look into this and teach the law enforcers that along with the uniform there is the imperative duty to make citizens feel secure and respected. Courtesy doesn’t cost, you know!

One reason the future of New Delhi as the premier Southasian urban centre is assured is its underground mass transit system.
   Underground commuting makes a city efficient and multidexterous and that is where New Delhi is headed in the decades to come. Years hence, credit will be given to those who today are planning the Delhi Metro which is already a three-line network of 65 km.
   Calcutta's underground started a decade ago and was the first of its kind in the region. This is a matter of great pride for Bengalis but it has been limited to one north-south 16.5 km track from Dumdum to Tollygunge. Meanwhile, on the ground up above, the famous Calcutta tram system is in a decrepit state and the less said about the Kolkota buses the better.
   The other cities of Southasia are not even thinking of, or are years away from, a true mass transit network. Take Kathmandu, a capital that does not even have a public transport system in place, much less plans for mass transit. There is laissez faire between superannuated buses on cartel-run routes, Mercedes Benz discard minibuses of overland European travellers of the 1970s, and Korean 'micro' vans which have proved useful in tackling narrow winding roads. The electric trolley bus service, gifted 30 years ago by the Chinese is today near death.
   The only positive thing that has happened in the transport scene in Kathmandu is the indigenous development of Safa Tempos, battery-powered three wheelers which carry up to 12 passengers. As would be expected with any local success story, the Safa is now being eyed with distaste by the authorities because it is said to slow down other traffic. This reminds one of Dhaka, where riksa pullers have started facing some heat. The nearly half million (hard to believe, but that is what they say!) riksas in Dhaka make up what might be called its mass transit system. But when demands of urban efficiency and urban elitism coincide, the uptown bhodralok from Baridhara, Gulshan, Bonani will need to get downtown double quick and the riksas get in the way.
   While the other metros of Southasia suffer from bad planning which comes, firstly, from bad funding, the modernisation of New Delhi's transportation is being funded by a IRs 5 billion infusion from the central government for undergrounds trains and aboveground flyovers. There are to be not one, nor two, but dozens of new flyovers, plus landscaping!
   A limited access dual carriageway already connects Noida with Delhi and another is making rapid progress towards Gurgaon, that ground-water guzzling hi-tech stretch spreading onward to Haryana.
   And one only has to look at the variety of cars on the roads to see how the middle and upper classes are making good on Delhi's good fortune. Though the Indian president and prime minister and ministers are still stuck with the senile Ambassador sedans, newer, bigger, faster Daewoos, Toyotas and Tatas are taking to the roads. The old Suzuki aka Maruti 800 ('Mehran' in Pakistan) is slowly migrating to the hinterland on resale.
   The Delhi Transport Corporation has a fleet of 2,500 buses, all running on CNG as per the orders of the Supreme Court. The taxis all are fuled by CNG, the three-wheeler scooty remains the standard for mid-distances and the riksa remains the backbone for travel in Old Delhi and the satellite towns and jhuggies. The state government has tried to introduce a new riksa design, made of tubular steel, but it has only caught on in the Nizamuddin and Karol Bagh localities, where they are subsidised. Elsewhere, the tried and tested slanted-seat accordion-hood model is still preferred because (as I realised during a riksa circumnavigation of Humayun's Tomb) the new design is awfully uncomfortable on the posterior. Also, said the riksawalla, the resale value is low.
   It is 45 degrees in the shade in Delhi as I write this in Kathmandu's cool. For the sake of the pampered, perspiring Dilliwallah, it would not be a bad idea if the Supreme Court of India could also order that public buses be air-conditioned!