House arrest

Back in Dhaka though this is not the same city I left some weeks ago. 

I arrived to a depressed, wounded place.

Dhaka is still bleeding after the July 1. terror attack where 20 people were killed in a most brutal way.  The attack was targeted at foreigners and secular Bangladeshis. Consequently, the security measures here are really, really strict now.

This is a klondyke for barbed wire sellers, surveillance equipment business and security companies. Dhaka is full of green police uniforms, patrol cars and even police boats.

The city cannot be safer than this  but still all foreigners are grounded. Many embassies and foreign companies have made spouses and children leave Bangladesh.

At the moment there are two places where one is allowed to go: work and home. And the transfer between these destinations has to be done by car, preferably with dark tinted windows. Irrespective how ridiculously short the distance is.

So, at free time the options are to stay at home, be at home or alternatively remain at home. 

In our case the house arrest has so far been easy since we moved to a new apartment and settling down always takes some time. 

But in the long run I will probably be an expert on strange tv-shows, bad films and marginal sports broadcasts.

More seriously, the situation is not good. 

People are afraid and suspicious. Since the attack was carried out by young men, even Bangladeshis panic whenever a group of youngsters with backpacks enters a cafe or a store.

But life goes on and my house arrest is really a minor thing compared to the hard life so many people here lead. People endanger their lives every day for very little money. These young men install air condition units to a new building. No security measures here.