I couldn’t believe what I just saw a minute ago. The bus was filled with excitement and laughter, but I was sitting on a chair like a frozen fish. My mouth was fully opened and my eyes didn’t blink. My brain kept pressing the replay button automatically.

It was my first time going on a field trip after my family and I moved to Bangladesh. Also, it was my first time going outside of Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh. I was so excited, but nervous as well deep inside my heart. Adapting to a new environment in a short period was a big deal for me. I always needed about a week to adapt. This was my first, new step towards to another culture without any help from my family. That whole night, I was full of joy and excitement.

Our class met in the school cafeteria before we rode on a bus. The weather was spring-like and warm, and the air wasn’t too smoky, though it was the second week of January. Everything was ready for the trip and it all flowed well until we went outside of Dhaka. After 30 minutes riding on a bus, we got stuck in the middle of the road. There was no other way to get out from the traffic jam. The cars were so close to each other that no one actually could cross the road. Our bus repeated the procedure of moving 50cm forward and then waiting there for 20 minutes. It seemed like it was going to take forever to get out of that place. It started to get warmer and warmer, and finally, people in the bus got roasted like a fried egg on a frying pan. Everyone started to take off their jackets and jumped up and down. I also took off my jacket and threw it to the corner of my seat and looked outside. Not only the roads were full of cars, but also the sidewalks were crowded with people. Rickshaws, which look like a three wheel bicycle with a person pulling it with his hands, were looking for a way to go forward like a meerkat, and as soon as they found a little empty spot, they thrust their legs out as if there were hungry wild animals attacking prey.
Then, I saw something I shouldn’t have. Two boys, one looked about nine, and the other six, were walking through the crowded people. They had no proper clothes and shoes. The only thing they had was a big sack which they held in their hands. On the opposite side, three or four students were walking forward, looking at their phones. When the two boys and the students passed each other, one of the students caught the older boy’s arm. There was a short silence between them. After the silence was broken, people around them started to gather around those boys. I had no idea what was going on, but I could feel something was wrong. I saw fear and terror on the faces of the two boys. The older boy seemed like he would have cried if anyone said something to him. Then, a man with an eerie face came up to the two boys, holding a club in his hand. Suddenly, the man kicked the older boy’s stomach and then started to beat him up with the club.

The last scene I saw was when the man swung the club down. Later, our bus driver explained what had happened. The two boys tried to steal the student’s phones and earphones, but then they got caught, so the people were beating them up. This could be seen as very brutal to some people, but this is the culture of Bangladesh. If a person gets caught in the scene of crime, he gets tied up against a tree, and then people beat him up until he is half dead. There is no one to blame or stop those people who have beaten a thief up, even if that person dies.
Sometimes, I still wonder about those two boys.