The train journey of Harvey Dent

I felt like I was John Titor, as I sat on this mystifying vehicle, piercing through the space-time continuum.

The eccentric vehicle I am talking about was not a 3 lakh km/second time machine, just a public train in Bangladesh, on Dhaka–Chattogram railway.

I was sitting in first-class. I felt like an elitist, and that went against my socialist beliefs. I liked the second-class tickets more, it gave me more of a bohemian persona. My friends called me broke, I called it the Che Guevera ideology. 

Usually, when I looked through the train window, I would think of something like the theory of relativity. Not that I was great at science or anything; in fact, I used to fail most of my physics tests in school.

Look, everyone's got a gimmick now. I just have multiple. 

After six hours of the long journey, I finally arrived at Chattogram. I could see a few porters around me looking to carry my bags. I detested this culture. It is awful how they are just part of perpetual slavery.

I let them carry my bags anyway. I even negotiated a good deal. I gave them half of what they had initially asked. 

Spoiler alert, I was here to conduct an investigation. Gen Z calls it stalking, but I call it being Sherlock.

What was I investigating? The question should have rather been who I was investigating.

My marriage broker had found me a 'Chatgaiya' girl to tie my knot with. My parents liked her. I, on the other hand, was sceptical. But we all know the saying, beneath their beautiful face laughs a Snapchat filter.

This reality of Bangladeshi girls is daunting. Such hypocrisy, they must learn to embrace themselves as they are. Otherwise, their so-called invigorating feminist power will not prevail!

I was not looking forward to meeting her, I was still not wearing my customised shoes with custom high heels made by my local cobbler. My CV said I was 5 feet 8, but I am barely 5 feet 6. I insisted on this lie regardless, it just made me seem more attractive I guess.

As I smoked a puff from my cigarette, I turned on my Sherlock mode. I need to find out more information, apart from what I found on her Facebook.

In-person data collection is always better. My words might sound like I was good at research, I like to think that too. But my professor found 'extensive' plagiarism in my master's thesis submission. Luckily, they let me get away with it.

I think it had something to do with the fact that most of my professors themselves had plagiarism in their works. I guess there must be something wrong with their Turnitin checker and they knew it well.

It was going to be a hectic day. I found out a lot about this girl's character. I cannot be marrying a girl who had premarital relationships or had a smoking habit, right? 

Oh, and do not worry about her age. I can confirm she was 17. By the time we will tie the knot, she will be 18 hopefully.  All the relationships I had in the past were with girls my age. And to tell you the truth, they were difficult. Try to convince them of something, and they call you out as a manipulator. Such weird framing this liberal echo chamber has gotten!