Rahiman Begum, a middle-aged woman, was walking down the crowded New Elephant Road in the city, looking anxious. She was stealing glances at the makeshift stalls and restaurants near the crossing at Science Laboratory, hoping to buy Iftar on her shoestring budget. Seasonal vendors on both sides of the road are selling savoury snacks for a traditional Iftar at a reasonable rate of Tk. 20–25.
But no one seems interested in selling their stuff to Rahiman, a former garments worker, who has to support her son and elderly mother on the meagre income she gets as a maid. She is unable to make ends meet. But still, Rahiman, a doting mother and responsible daughter, is there on the street, looking from one shop to another, looking to buy Iftar for her family after a hard day's work.
Suddenly, she notices a banner, spread across the top of a restaurant, proclaiming easy offers for packed Iftars. But she almost runs away from the spot after learning that the place sells two types of Iftar boxes: one for Tk. 150 and another for Tk. 200. The price difference is because of the presence of a chicken tikka or grilled chicken piece and a naan roti in the second type of box.
A little away, another restaurant is providing a gala offer: a buffet, including tasty snacks and halim, for unlimited consumption—at Tk. 300 per person. But all these are beyond Rahiman's wildest fantasy, as she cannot afford even half a plate of such food items.
On her way back, she chances upon an eatery that has been serving food to countless others living on the fringes of the city. She buys three piajus, a kind of stuffed mashed daal frittered in oil, for Tk. 15, and chhola (fried grams) for Tk. 5. The eatery is located in Zigatola.
At Rayerbazar, a famous chef, Bacchu Baburchi, is offering the same items. However, they are a little expensive than those sold by street vendors. His items include halim. Mutton halims are selling for Tk. 400–800 and chicken halims for Tk. 500–700, depending on the quality of chicken.
The chef says he is one of the few who have the expertise of preparing such rich iftars. "There is no dearth of consumers for halims and Iftar boxes. Since four in the afternoon, people from Dhanmondi and far corners of Gulshan start to crowd in front of my restaurant on the Rayerbazar Sher-e-Bangla Road," he adds.
The smell of such delicious dishes, however, makes no impression on Rahiman. She slowly turns away from the crowd. Her weary steps trudge to the street where in a dimly lit house, two pairs of eyes eagerly await the polythene-wrapped packets in her hand.
She has to return before sunset, when all Muslims break their fast at the prayer call, with whatever they can afford.