Autobiography of a peddler..

Autobiography of a peddler...

I am a peddler. There must be a name given by parents. But no one calls me by that name now. Call and peddler. The house, the holding, the land were all mine one day. But today the devastating Padmanadi has swallowed everything. After my house sank in the Padma, I came to Dhaka city with a stomach ache and became a peddler. You will see me in alleys, slums, residential areas, paved roads, sidewalks of Dhaka city. I am Azmat Ali, I have become an essential character of Dhaka city - peddler. At first I used to sell vegetables. On the last night, I used to go to the wholesale vegetable market in Kawranbazar and buy two different types of vegetables. I used to hang two khachis on either side and walk on my shoulders and call out - ‘Hey, I need red spinach, kalmishak, sweet pumpkin, potato, patal ... no - Ben. 'On hearing my call, the housewives would rush to my side. He used to look around and bargain. If you like, two and a half grams, half a kilo, one kilo

I used to buy vegetables or a handful of jute or two rupees worth of green chillies. Traveling from one neighborhood to another, from one slum to another, in residential areas, I would have finished selling all the vegetables in my khachi by noon. Selling - Buying was not bad but profit was low. I didn't read the goods all the time. Without it, the raw material would be more affected. So I gave up after trading vegetables for two years. Monir's father from our slum said, it is better to study in the cloth business. Understood - once I went down to the clothing business. Bedsheets, pillow covers, blouse fabrics, scarves, cellar-shirt pieces, etc. I used to carry a huge bundle of various clothes on my shoulders and call out to Bajkhai around my neck while walking. There are bedsheets, pillow covers, three pieces, blouse fabrics .... 'My daughter-in-law, Kisheri-young woman used to surround me. Then he would move his hand and ask various questions about the color, print and quality of the cloth. I would answer their questions with a smile. This business cannot be done if you are annoyed. The business of selling clothes by ferry was not bad. But I could not bear to carry such a big burden on my shoulders for a long time. Now I ferry all sorts of things. I live in Mirpur slum. My wife works from home. She has a two-year-old son. Lives with mother. I spend all day selling things from street to street, from street to street. My small capital independent business. I have to take care of people's daily necessities. My business is about the needs of the people. I have pots and pans, utensils, utensils, cosmetics, head oil, assorted toys, hair ribbons, clips, nail polish, shoe ink, toothbrushes, teapots and everything else.

At the front of the street, next to the house, the wife, children, teenagers and young women of the house come out as soon as they shout. They choose things with their own eyes. Then bargain. I understand the customer's mind and say the price. If you like, people buy things with more than two rupees. He knows the necessities of life better than men. Easily buys the thing of choice from me. Spend the day on the street. Mirpur, Kalyanpur, Shamli, Mahammadpur, Mohakhali, Nakhalpara, Farmgate - how many roads in Raedepure, wet in the rain, hungry - thirsty I walk. Is there a way to walk through the streets of Dhaka city? People are giggling. Apart from that, in our opinion, it is becoming very difficult for the peddlers to do business in different places. I can go around ten doors all day and sell things in one place. In addition, the profit is very small. I can't sell things at high prices according to the market. Our profit is decreasing day by day. But the price of rice, pulses, oil and salt is increasing day by day. So now it is difficult to save us. In my opinion, the life of a peddler in Dhaka city has become very difficult. I live in neglect and poverty. Someone called me a peddler, someone looked at me with hatred, someone called me a street person and pushed me away. Path is my life, basket full of goods is my livelihood. One day my life will be exhausted on the way to the ferry. The old broken bottle - according to Betel, maybe one day I will fall in the dust of the road.