Saheb was not hurt because he was used to such false promises as they existed in large numbers in his empty world. She had said this as a joke and had never intended to open a school, so she felt ashamed of herself. She felt ashamed at making a false promise. The writer replied that it takes a lot of time to build a school. Saheb says that he would join the writer’s school and after a few days, he runs up to her to ask whether her school is ready. But promises like mine abound in every corner of his bleak world. “It takes longer to build a school,” I say, embarrassed at having made a promise that was not meant. A few days later I see him running up to me. The writer asks him jokingly that if she opened a school would he attend it. He also assures her that he will go to school when one is built near his house. He replies that there are no schools in the area where he lives. She realizes that her advice is meaningless for the poor boy. The writer suggests that he should go to school. Saheb replies to the writer that he has nothing else to do other than rag picking. Glibly – speaking or spoken in a confident way, but without careful thought or honesty “If I start a school, will you come?” I ask, half-joking. “Go to school,” I say glibly, realizing immediately how hollow the advice must sound.
“I have nothing else to do,” he mutters, looking away. One day the writer questions Saheb and asks him the reason for shuffling through the garbage.
The boy searches for such precious things in the garbage dumps. for the children and food, clothing, shelter as means of survival for their parents. Gold here refers to something precious which was not available in their hometown. The writer again says, “looking for gold in the big city”. So, they left home and shifted to the cities in search of ‘gold’. His mother had told him that there were many storms that destroyed their homes and fields. They had left it many years ago and he does not remember it anymore. His home in Dhaka was in the middle of lush green fields. The writer says that he searches for ‘gold’ ironically because although the garbage dump is full of useless, thrown away things, still he shuffles it so minutely as if he will get something as precious as ‘gold’ from it. That’s why they left, looking for gold in the big city where he now lives.Įvery morning, the writer sees a young ragpicker boy who visits the garbage dump near her house and searches for ‘gold’ in it. There were many storms that swept away their fields and homes, his mother tells him. Set amidst the green fields of Dhaka, his home is not even a distant memory. “Why do you do this?” I ask Saheb whom I encounter every morning scrounging for gold in the garbage dumps of my neighborhood.
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