Mr. Milton’s Handkerchief

Kamrul Alam :

I planned to make a trip to Chattagram few months ago and probably the day was Friday. Accordingly, I boarded the ‘Mahanagar Godhuli’ train at Kamalapur station, bound for Chittagong. The train was scheduled to depart in two minutes, but the seats next to and in front of me was still empty. Suddenly, a gentleman, his wife, and their child rushed into my compartment, followed by a porter carrying luggage. It seemed that they were returning from abroad. The gentleman, visibly out of breath, entered the compartment. His entire body was drenched in sweat. After taking a deep breath, he asked me about the availability of seats and pulling out his handkerchief, wiped down the seats for himself, his wife, and their child. He then wiped his face with the handkerchief and seemed to sigh in relief. He was also telling that the weather of this country did not suit his baby and he is suffering from running nose. He cleaned it with his nice handkerchief.
The gentleman was quite sociable and quickly struck up a conversation with me. He started talking about the political issues in Bangladesh and other development issues in social sector as he was out of the country for few years. He introduced himself as Mr. Milton, a government employee in London, returning to his homeland after a long time. I was enjoying the company of this extravert person.
At one point, Mr. Milton went to the train’s toilet and returned a few moments later, looking displeased. He muttered, “What a disgusting state. No soap, no tissue. Our country is so backward. You won’t understand unless you’ve been abroad.” As he spoke, continued to wipe his hands with his handkerchief. He also used it to clean his child’s face.
By this time, we had reached Akhaura station. The platform was bustling with vendors shouting, “Peanuts! Peanuts! Guava! Guava!” I was impressed with the nice guavas and decided to buy. So, I bought a few and washed them with bottled water I had with me. Mr. Milton’s child started crying for one of the guavas. Seeing this, I gave the child a soft guava to eat. Before the child could put it in his mouth, Mr. Milton shouted, “Don’t eat, my son! It’s dirty!” He grabbed the child’s hand and took the guava away, wiping it with his favourite handkerchief.
The conversation continued, and before I knew it, we had passed through Feni station. Mr. Milton bought some spicy puffed rice (muri) in a packet but took out these from the packet and poured thoseinto his handkerchief. He said, “I have a handkerchief, no problem.” He then offered me some of the puffed rice, but I declined. I couldn’t bring myself to accept food from a handkerchief that had been used for so many purposes.
I thought about the various uses of the handkerchief and wondered about the ignorance of a highly educated man living in London. I also pondered how to improve such a situation. We need to do something to raise awareness on proper hand washing, which is one of the main causes of different water borne diseases. If we can go for mass campaign on proper hand washing, this will significantly contribute in reducing incidence of diarrhoeal diseases, child mortality and also reaching SDG target.

(Note: This is a real story. But the real name of the person here is not mentioned).