The Story of Md. Neamul Islam

My name is Md. Neamul Islam. Like many young professionals in Bangladesh, I moved to Dhaka with dreams to grow, to thrive, to shape a career. But unlike the capital city that never sleeps, my roots lie in Khulna, a quieter, greener, and far more breathable city where life flows at a gentler pace. 

I spent my university years in Khulna. Those were the days of open skies, light traffic, and evenings that arrived without the blaring of horns or the sting of smoke in the air. Back then, I didn’t know how much I would miss those little things a silent street, a tree-lined road, or simply walking without the anxiety of time slipping away in a traffic jam.

Moving to Dhaka was, of course, a necessity. It offered professional exposure and possibilities that cities like Khulna can’t yet match. But the cost of these opportunities is heavy. Here, I often find myself caught in endless traffics, surrounded by suffocating air and relentless noise. The crowds press in from every direction, the roads seem permanently clogged, and the sky above the city remains a dull grey, even at noon.

Yet, more than the pollution or traffic, it’s the emotional distance that unsettles me the most. In Khulna, I used to feel connected to people, to nature, to a rhythm of life that made sense. In Dhaka, despite all its busyness and people, life feels strangely isolating. I live away from my family, and in a city where the concrete has pushed out the trees, and ambition often overshadows peace, I find myself yearning for home.

There’s a quiet promise I’ve made to myself: someday, when I can, I will return to Khulna. I will go back to the serene evenings, the familiar faces, and perhaps build a life rooted in both purpose and peace. But for now, I carry on in this concrete sprawl, holding on to hope that Dhaka can be better if only we manage it better.

I believe the chaos we experience in Dhaka isn’t inevitable, it’s a result of mismanagement. With proper urban planning, stronger local governance, better waste management, greener public spaces, and efficient transportation systems, life here can be more livable. We don’t need to choose between opportunity and well-being, we can, and must, demand both.

Until that change comes, I will do my part, through my work, through advocacy, and through dreaming of a Dhaka where trees are planted as often as buildings rise. A city where we build not just towers, but communities. A city where someone like me doesn’t have to choose between a career and peace of mind.

For now, I live between two cities: one in reality, the other in memory and hope.