DHAKA, Sept 6, 2026 (BSS) - Along some of Dhaka's busiest roads, amid the noise of traffic and the rush of everyday life, a quiet ritual unfolds each day, with familiar faces gathering by the roadside at particular times to await a fleeting glimpse of Prime Minister Tarique Rahman.

Come rain or shine, even deep into the night, they step away from their work and take their familiar places, standing patiently by the road for the passing car of the Prime Minister, hoping to catch his eye for just a few seconds.

They do not expect the car to stop. There is no meeting, no conversation and no formal exchange. For them, a glimpse is enough.

Prime Minister's Deputy Press Secretary Atikur Rahman Ruman said the Prime Minister has gradually come to recognise some of these familiar faces along his route, often responding with a wave or a smile as his motorcade passes.

For those waiting by the roadside, the moment lasts only seconds. Yet, repeated day after day, those seconds have grown into a quiet bond between the people and the Prime Minister, said Ruman.

As Ruman Recounts:

One of the most poignant stories belongs to an elderly man from Pabna who once worked as a security guard at a Jamuna Bank ATM booth beside the Prime Minister's route near Moghbazar.

Every morning, he would stand outside the booth holding a sheaf of paddy waiting for the Prime Minister's car. He would wave at him, take a quick glimpse and then have his breakfast before beginning work.

The ATM booth is now permanently closed. The job is gone, too. But the ritual remains.

The elderly man still comes to the same place every day wearing his old security-guard uniform and carrying a sheaf of paddy in his hand. He waits for the motorcade as he once did.

Then, for a few seconds, the car appears. A wave. A glance. A smile. And it is enough to send him on his way with a sense of contentment.

Near Dubai Market in Banani, two rickshaw pullers have also become familiar faces along the Prime Minister's route. Even amid the pressure of making a living, they regularly pause their work to wait for the motorcade.

As the vehicles approach, anticipation lights up their faces. For a moment, the bustle of the city seems to fade, replaced by the excitement of seeing a familiar person they have come to admire.

There are other such faces near Banani Kacha Bazar - flower and fruit sellers, roadside vendors and hawkers who interrupt their daily routines for that brief encounter.

Some stand quietly. Some wave enthusiastically. Others simply watch the passing car without taking their eyes off it.

On Kamal Ataturk Avenue, one man is known to wait late into the night for the Prime Minister's return home. His name may not be known to those around him, but his face has become familiar through repetition.

When the motorcade approaches, the vehicle slows. The Prime Minister sometimes turns on the interior light and raises his hand, acknowledging the man waiting in the darkness.

 

The same happens late at night around Gulshan-2.

Restaurant and hotel workers who finish their shifts along the main road and adjoining lanes often wait for the Prime Minister's car. As it approaches, the interior light comes on, illuminating the face inside.

The familiar faces brighten. Some waves. Some simply stare for a moment. The Prime Minister waves back.

The entire exchange takes only moments. The car does not stop. There is no conversation and no opportunity for introductions.

Yet, repeated day after day, those moments have acquired a meaning of their own.

At first, the waiting was entirely one-sided. People knew the route and came to the roadside hoping for a glimpse of the Prime Minister. They waited during breaks from work or adjusted their routines simply to be there when his car passed.

Over time, something changed. The Prime Minister began recognising the places - and the people.

As his car approaches certain spots, he now appears to look for the familiar faces that have made waiting for him part of their daily lives. It is a relationship without ceremony.

There is no stage, no speech, no applause and no carefully arranged meeting. There is only a roadside, a moving car, a raised hand and a few seconds of recognition.

A few feet of distance. A few seconds of eye contact. And, somehow, a bond that has lasted far longer.