Empty pots, endless lines: Tales from the OMS queue

Hosne Ara, a 62-year-old woman from Rupnagar, stood anxiously in the queue at Mirpur-6 market, waiting for the OMS (Open Market Sale) truck. She had arrived at 7 am, worried she might miss it if she came later. By nearly 11 am, the truck was still nowhere to be seen—an unusual delay, as it typically arrives between 10 and 10:15 am.

The OMS program offers essential commodities at subsidised rates: rice at Tk30 per kg and flour at Tk24 per kg. Buyers can purchase up to 5 kg, costing Tk280 in total, including the bag—less than half the market price. Another package containing oil, sugar, and salt costs over Tk550. For families like Hosne Ara's, this makes a significant difference.

OMS trucks come to this spot on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays every week. Each of these days, at least 400 people purchase subsidised commodities from the truck here. The queues for men and women are separate, and generally, the women's queue is longer.

Hosne Ara heard about another truck stationed in front of National School but couldn't afford the additional Tk40 rickshaw fare to get there. She had only Tk280 in hand, Tk170 of which she had borrowed.

There is no rice or flour left at her home. Limited income makes it difficult to make ends meet for a family of five.

"My husband has been stuck at home with a broken leg for four days. My eldest son drives an auto-rickshaw, but he is a drug addict. My daughter studies at a madrasa, and my youngest son is an apprentice at a grocery shop," she said.

Sitting beside Hosne Ara, Sukhi Begum carried an equally heavy burden of despair.

Sukhi's journey has been one of resilience and hardship. Originally from Char Fasson, she lost her father at a young age. Married off early, she had two daughters, but her husband eventually abandoned her. With two small children to care for, Sukhi made her way to Dhaka in search of a better life.

In the city, she survived by working as a domestic help. When her daughters grew up, she arranged their marriages early, hoping for a better future for them. Tragically, their lives took the same turn as hers, they too were abandoned by their husbands and now work as domestic help to make ends meet.

Sitting a few feet away from them was Mansura Rina, 70. She rested for half an hour on the footpath beside the school wall before slowly getting up. She is from Barguna, where her husband and sons live. She lives alone in Dhaka now.

There is no rice or flour left at Hosne Ara's home. Limited income makes it difficult to make ends meet for a family of five. "My husband has been stuck at home with a broken leg for four days. My eldest son drives an auto-rickshaw, but he is a drug addict. My daughter studies at a madrasa, and my youngest son is an apprentice at a grocery shop," she said.

Rina had come to Dhaka with her husband during the Ershad regime. "I used to apply face cream and powder regularly and went to Sony Cinema Hall with my husband two to three times a month. I worked for wealthy families, while my husband worked as a bricklayer," she said.

But now, her husband's kidneys are failing, while Rina suffers from asthma and cataracts in her right eye. She plans to leave Dhaka soon as she can no longer work. A wealthy individual has promised to bear her medical expenses, so she is staying in Dhaka for now and getting by on OMS commodities.

Now let's turn to Roushan Ara's story, 36 years old and a resident of Mirpur-7. When she first came to Dhaka from Pirojpur and took a job at a garment factory where she met her husband.

They have two children, both of whom attend school. Her husband works as a cutting master in the garment factory, but his salary is low, with no overtime. Some days, he works till 10pm, but he starts his shift at 8am. They live together with her father-in-law, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and one brother-in-law.

"There are eight people in my household. It feels good to live together. There are small arguments, but no one holds a grudge for long. My mother-in-law is a great cook. Once someone tastes her food, they never forget it. My sister-in-law tutors my children. As much as I can, I do all household chores. My father-in-law is a day labourer and my brother-in-law hasn't started working yet," she said.

But financial struggles weigh down on her happiness. That is why, whenever she can make time — usually twice a month — she stands in the OMS queues. Over the years, she has become familiar with the people there, conversations with whom help her pass the long wait in the queues.

Sakhina Begum, another woman standing in the queue, recounted her struggles. "My husband loved me. Though we were not wealthy, our marriage was a happy one. When we were blessed with a baby girl, our household was filled with more joy and peace. But then my husband tragically died in a road accident shortly thereafter."

Grief consumed Sakhina for days, but she had no choice but to carry on for her young daughter. Determined to provide for her, she ran a tea stall for several years. As time passed, her daughter grew up and got married, giving Sakhina hope for a brighter future.

But life dealt another cruel blow. One day, her son-in-law married someone else, forcing her daughter to return home.

Now, Sakhina spends her days begging to make ends meet. Her daughter, still heartbroken, lives in constant emotional pain and depends on the small amount of money her mother earns.

It took Sakhina two weeks to save Tk280, with which she hoped to buy commodities from the OMS truck. However, she remained anxious, wondering if she would get the rice because she was standing at the end of the line.

Conversations with people in the queues revealed several reasons why women dominate the OMS lines. Many men feel embarrassed to stand in the queues, while others send the women in their households, often unwillingly. Women, on the other hand, take on this responsibility willingly, driven by their deep sense of duty to their families. In some cases, there are no male members in the household, leaving the task solely to the women.

With skyrocketing prices, OMS and TCB trucks have become a lifeline for struggling families. However, even here, challenges are plenty.

First, one must queue right after the Fajr prayer. Second, there is often pushing and shoving in the queues, which some people cannot endure for long. Third, there's a syndicate of 10-12 people who buy goods from the trucks and resell them in the market. Lastly, the dealer or their representatives often show favouritism, providing goods to certain people only.

Firoz Alam, a representative of an OMS truck near the National Bangla School in Mirpur, said, "We received no instructions about breaking the syndicate. This is an open market. Anyone can stand in the queue, and I am obligated to provide.

"I've heard that they have been taking rice and flour consecutively for the past three days. Their presence is preventing others from having a chance to stand in queue. Some people who arrive early are even leaving empty-handed. We are helpless because the authorities have not given us any instructions on this matter. If they did, we could take action," he added.

Hosne Ara does not understand why flour remains left while rice runs out quickly. The reason is that the truck brings 3,500 kg of flour but only 2,000 kg of rice.

Rice is our staple food, so why is there more flour available than rice? Firoz Alam had an explanation: "The government isn't to blame. It's the customers themselves. Many say things like, 'We have diabetes, so flour is better for us.' When the government heard this, they simply responded, 'As you wish.'"

"But not every household has diabetic patients," Alam argued. "Most families have young members who prefer rice. People usually eat bread for one meal at most, not all the time."

When asked about the profits dealers make from the OMS program, Alam said, "We earn around Tk2,000 to Tk2,500 per truck each day. We also run trucks in a few areas of Mohammadpur, and each truck has at least four workers. Considering the effort and the number of people involved, it's not much. You could call it a humanitarian effort from our side."