Rahim dreams of becoming an army general, but he's only a tempo helper, 12 years old. He's a good-looking precocious Biharl boy dressed in a high-collartxl full gray shirt, black pants and black boots to match. When 1 ran Into him at the BRTC bus-stand at Muhammadpur with my barrage of questions, he was more than willing to be "Interviewed". In fact, he had his own volley of questions which he fired at me, launching several questions at once, and getting ready with the next salvo, "Are you married? Why not? Will I get paid for this Interview? Why ever not? I'm giving you my time, am I not?", till I ended up wondering who was getting Interviewed, him or me!

What did he do as a helper. I asked him. Planty, said he. Our aspiring army general rides on the back-step of the tempo, zooming his way through the busy streets of the city. He collects the fares, and calls out the names of the various stops In route. He threatens passing cars and rickshaws with "khabardar' as the tempo goes careening at breath-taking speed from Muhammadpur to Farmgate and all the way to Gabtoll and back. He cleans up the tempo when he comes back to Muhammadpur for the last time at night.

As he chattered away, I looked at this daredevil with his thick mop of black hair, sharp eyes and sharper brains, and wondered. He was anything but the poor orphan boy slaving for a living, lost In a world of twinkling stars. But in fact he was an orphan. His father, a cashier at a bank, died eight years back. No

problem. He earns anything between 20-40 bucks a day, depending on the number of passengers he manages to coax into his tempo. Rahim lives with his mother and phupu (aunt) all the family he has — at Nurjahan road in Muhammadpur. Both the women work at a garments factory, and they pay Tk 800 for the house they live in. They eat rice and vegetables. and sometimes even manage flsh or meat.

He's on his usual duties from 7am to 8pm every day except Friday. And what does he do on Fridays? He sleeps till 10 in the morning. then goes cycling with his friends. "Do you go to the cinema?" I asked him. "No", he said promptly, and 1 wondered if he was lying. "Did you ever go to school?", I said. 'Till Class IV", he said.

"What are the risks in your line of work?", I said. He thought this one over. After a philo sophical pause he rattled off again. There could always be an accident or crash. Or I could fall off the back-step one day. It's possible. Once a passenger actually threw me off the running tempo. 1 smashed his glasses. If I were bigger. I'd have broken his bones. He wouldn't give me the actual fare. I've to coax, entice and sometimes even good the passengers Into my tempo. Sometimes I even threaten them: "there's no gari (vehicle) for the next half hour — they don't know what's good for them, the fools."

"If you can't become a general, then what?", I said. Til become a tempo driver. Tempo helpers get the first chance", he shot back, before zooming away on his bike.