How Dhaka always shows a way!

Often, while stuck at a traffic signal in Dhaka, all it takes is a glance left or right to notice a narrow alley slipping away, quietly mocking the chaos around you.

Whether you're in a car, rickshaw, bike, or CNG, these alleys somehow manage to fit it all -- buses, unfortunately, are out of luck. The main roads crawl, signal lights blink in vain, and gridlocks stretch like eternity itself. Yet, right there, between buildings and shops, these improvised lanes with no dividers, no traffic police, and no rules promise something the main roads can't: movement!

We all know how Dhaka traffic tests patience. Sometimes, it tests the soul. The signal-heavy, dutifully patrolled main roads pretend to obey every rule and yet, manage to disappoint everyone at once. Time slows, intersections freeze, and you could stare at the same billboard for half an hour, wondering how far "just five more minutes" can really stretch.

And then there are the alleys. The entirely accidental veins of the city where logic and rules are optional. These are often the roads no urban planner intentionally planned, no one designed; they simply just happened. Narrow, improvised lanes that snake through buildings and grocery shops, where every turn feels like a guess and every vehicle moves on pure instinct. No traffic police, no dividers, no signals — just people negotiating space and sanity in equal measure. These are the "chipa golis" (narrow alleys) that save us, again and again.

Take, for example, Mohakhali to Farmgate. There's that little-known rickshaw trail through Shaheenbagh and Nakhalpara that gets you to your destination before your friend on the main road even makes it past Bijoy Sarani Mor. It's dusty, loud, and uncomfortably tight — and thanks to the never-ending construction, your vehicle might shake hard enough to rearrange your bones — but hey, it's still effective enough to beat the inertia of the main way!

The same trick works from Farmgate to Dhanmondi. While Manik Mia Avenue crawls inch by inch, those in the know glide through Indira Road, cut into Shukrabad, and pop out at Kalabagan bus stand without crossing a single traffic light. It's not exactly smooth, but it works!

But everything in Dhaka comes with a price, not in tolls, but somehow in temperament! You must learn the fine art of shouting. "Who parked here?" "Why are all the rickshaws coming one way?" "Move the car! Let the bikes slide!" This, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call community-driven traffic management. Not exactly anger, more like strident negotiation. A collective roar that somehow restores order — or at least the illusion of it.

Even from Jigatola to Mohammadpur, when Satmasjid Road turns into a parking lot of despair, there's always the inner Sher-e-Bangla Road, a narrow, gritty shortcut that will drop you right in front of Allah Karim Mosque after shaking your stomach up to your brain!

Then, of course, even Dhaka's shortcuts have bad days. There are times when everyone suddenly remembers the same "secret route," a truck driver mistakes a lane for a highway, or three rickshaws meet head-on in a space meant for one. That's when the city decides to teach us humility. There's no escape then — no heroic shortcuts, no clever diversions. Just a shared resignation and a silent acceptance that the city has outsmarted us again. The alleys that once promised salvation can suddenly turn into claustrophobic mazes of rickshaws, cars, and more frustration! Those are the days when not even Google Maps shakes to reroute you. Dhaka wins on those days!

But most of the other days, Dhaka lets you win!

Because that's Dhaka for you: a city that might drive you mad, shake you silly, and make you shout at strangers… but somehow, it always lets you find a way! The shortcut way!