The Garbage Truck: A City Morning Through a Child’s Eyes (Poem)
At a glance
- The poem is told by a one-and-a-half-year-old who watches the garbage truck from the window every morning.
- When his father leaves for the office, his day becomes a long wait spent playing with his mother.
- A small picture of city life, a rented home, busy parents and a child’s love.
An English rendering of the Bangla poem "ময়লার গাড়ি" by Sultan Muhammad Rashed, written on 10 August 2025 and kept here as a memory. The original Bangla is on the Bangla page.
In the morning everyone sleeps,
but I wake up early,
I stand right here every day
and watch that garbage truck.
I am about a year and a half old,
and outside I see a different world;
while everyone lies silent in their sleep,
I run to hear the sound of that truck.
Every morning at the same time the garbage truck comes,
I watch it, and what else can I do?
The truck has gone, and they are still deep asleep,
I call Mamma, I call Pappa — what else can I do?
You still won’t get up, so I sulk a little;
anyway, I have to accept it — this is not our own home.
I was born here, but it is not my ancestral home;
however much money you have, people call you a tenant!
At last Mamma and Pappa are wide awake,
yet even awake, their busyness never ends.
Pappa sits with his laptop in an office meeting,
Mamma’s hands are busy cutting vegetables.
I go to one, then the other — I run about,
what else can I do right now?
I don’t like seeing all this, my heart feels heavy,
so I hurry to see if Uncle is in the next room.
A little later I see Pappa in a T-shirt, about to leave,
and without a moment’s delay I run and hug his legs —
“Where are you going, Baba, leaving me alone?
Without you my whole day feels so empty.”
In the end, with a cuddle, when you really must go,
I am helpless; I just watch and say “Ta-ta, bye-bye.”
Mummy hugs me then and tries again and again to stop my tears,
but it’s you I need, Baba, so I cry again and again.
Long after work, when Pappa comes back home,
as soon as I hear the doorbell I ask, “Mamma, is Baba here?”
Then the door opens and I see my Baba,
and I run off backwards as fast as I can!
Baba runs after me and catches me,
kisses me with love and holds me tight to his chest.
Then a little time passes wonderfully,
playing with Uncle and Baba, there is no end to the joy!
Then that terrible moment arrives,
one by one Pappa and Uncle all leave for the office.
I wait and wonder — when will Pappa come back?
Now my whole day passes playing with Mummy.
Afternoon turns to evening; Pappa will come some time in the night,
maybe I’ll see Pappa again the next fine morning.
When morning comes again, I will watch the garbage truck,
what else can I do now!
So I stand right here every day
and watch that, that, that garbage truck.
✍️ Sultan Muhammad Rashed
10 August 2025