Mahtab Uddin Ahmed

Every now and then, Bangladesh produces a rare policy miracle: an authority listens before the public loses its voice. Bangladesh Bank’s latest Bangla QR circulars deserve appreciation for correcting the course.

In Bangladesh, praise is treated like public money: everyone agrees it should circulate, but nobody wants to release it. Tell a colleague he did well, and someone will demand an audit. Compliment a bridge and another citizen will ask which political party issued your membership card. We are generous with criticism, stingy with gratitude and quick to suspicion.

Applying for a job can feel like seeking admission to a royal household. Candidates submit a CV, cover letter, certificates, photograph, present salary, expected salary and perhaps proof of good behaviour in a previous life.

Two neighbours went to a village elder with a dispute. After hearing the first man, the elder said, “You are right”.

We Bangladeshis love being unique, usually in the wrong direction. We speak of governance “of the people, by the people, for the people”, then regulate as if service providers prepared the draft, proofread it, and blessed it for their spiritual welfare.

Office attendance is not merely a management practice; it is almost a cultural festival.

My office is slowly becoming a corporate emergency ward. CEOs walk in not with ECG reports, but with bruised egos, unsigned exit letters and bonuses that have developed a terminal illness.

Alignment is often achieved the way we achieve traffic discipline: everyone honks, nobody moves, and yet each driver is fully confident that the jam is caused by someone else.