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Road safety and a nation’s betrayal of its youth
PHOTO: STAR
As I write this, the weight of a recent tragedy bears heavily on my heart. Just months ago, I received a call that shattered my world: my brother-in-law, vibrant and full of life, had been killed in a road accident. The image of his disfigured face, the knowledge that he suffered for those final 10 minutes on the Bekutia Bridge, haunts me still. What was meant to be a symbol of progress—the eighth Bangladesh-China Friendship Bridge—instead became the site of unspeakable loss for two families.
This personal anguish is far from unique. In the wake of yet another devastating report on road accidents in Bangladesh, we are forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: our nation has failed its young people. The statistics released by the Road Safety Foundation are not just alarming; they are a damning indictment of our collective inaction and apathy. Since 2019, a staggering 5,619 students have lost their lives on our roads. Let that number sink in. These aren’t mere statistics; they represent crushed dreams, devastated families, and a generation’s potential cut tragically short.
The breakdown of these deaths is equally chilling: around 2,783 (49.52 percent) were either bikers or their passengers, at least 2,641 (47 percent) were children aged 5-17, around 1,534 (27.30 percent) were pedestrians killed by hit-and-run drivers, and 833 students died crossing train tracks in just five and a half years. Each of these numbers represents a life needlessly lost, a family forever altered.
I’m transported back to 2018, to the days of the Road Safety Movement. As an undergraduate, I stood alongside my peers, demanding change. The memory of being chased by armed “helmet gangs” still sends a chill down my spine. I can still taste the acrid sting of tear gas, and see the bruised and bloodied faces of friends and seniors. My younger sister, trapped with classmates in a violent confrontation in Dhanmondi, narrowly escaped harm. Those days left an indelible mark, a trauma that feels as fresh today as it did then.
We thought we had sparked real change. The deaths of Dia Khanam Mim and Abdul Karim Rajib galvanised the nation. We saw a new Road Transport Act, 17 directives from the Prime Minister’s Office, and even a high-powered task force led by the home minister. Yet here we are, six years later, and the carnage continues unabated.
The tragedy in Mirsharai serves as a stark reminder of how little has changed. Eleven years ago, on July 11, 2011, as many as 45 lives—including 42 students—were snuffed out in a single, horrific accident. We vowed “never again,” yet the body count continues to rise. In the first six months of this year alone, 611 students have already perished on our roads.
How many more children must die before we see meaningful action? How many more families must be torn apart? The development projects our government touts ring hollow when our youth are being mowed down at such an alarming rate. Besides, the regular occurrence of such accidents is inching closer to desensitising us, our hearts turning blunt to these tragedies. We cannot allow this to be our new normal.
The Road Safety Foundation’s recommendations offer a starting point: launch comprehensive road safety campaigns in every educational institution; crack down on unsafe vehicles and reckless driving; and address the seven major causes they have identified, including faulty infrastructure and lack of knowledge about safe road use. But we need more than recommendations. We need action. We need enforcement. We need a fundamental shift in how we approach road safety as a society.
To readers who have lost loved ones to road accidents: I see you. I grieve with you. Your pain is not forgotten, and your loss will not be in vain if we can demand better from those in power, while also trying to be a part of the change we wish to see.
Ensuring the safety of the citizens should be non-negotiable. Road safety isn’t just about statistics or policy. It’s about the fundamental right of every person to travel without fear and to return home safely to their loved ones. It’s about building a society where a simple commute doesn’t carry the risk of becoming another heartbreaking headline.
We owe it to those we have lost, to those who still bear the physical and emotional scars of past movements, and to future generations to demand better. How long can the government move forward while holding onto empty promises and half measures? We need visible, meaningful action; our lives, and the lives of our loved ones, depend on it.