Another Gasuddin story.
When I first interviewed Gasuddin, I nearly didn’t hire him. He was a small, whippy looking man with jet black, straight hair and the pencil thin mustache of an old time villain. You know, the kind that tied young girls to railroad tracks. There was something a little bizarre about mustaches in Bangladesh; our houseman had a Hitler mustache that always made us feel a little uncomfortable.
Anyway, at the time of the interview Gasuddin was employed driving one of those decades old, Greyhound-like buses on the Dhaka-Chittagong route, over 130 miles of incredibly bad roads. The bus left at sun-up and made it into Chittagong a little after dark, if lucky. Gasuddin would have a quick meal, sleep for a few hours, load up the bus with passengers and in the wee hours of the morning, return to Dhaka. He had driven this route for…
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