"The Weight of a Degree: A Story of Silent Struggles"

Tanvir’s day begins with a notification from a "Job Seekers" group and a cup of tea that has long gone cold. In his hand, he carries a thick plastic folder containing the milestones of his life—certificates from SSC to Master’s, all marked with "GPA-5." Yet, these laminated papers feel like dead weight today; in a market dominated by "experience" and "references," his academic excellence feels invisible. Today, he attended another interview at a corporate firm. Sitting in the chilled air of the AC room, Tanvir’s mind wandered back to his village. His father had spent his entire retirement fund on Tanvir’s education. Now, at the end of every month, when his father calls and gently asks, "Any news, son?", Tanvir feels a sharp pang in his chest. During the interview, he was asked, "What are your salary expectations?" Tanvir smiled faintly and replied, "Sir, just enough to live with dignity in this city." But the response was the same familiar phrase he had heard a dozen times before: "We will let you know." To Tanvir, "We will let you know" has become a curse—a polite way of being shown the door. Walking down the crowded streets of Dhaka, he saw thousands of young men like him, folders tucked under their arms, rushing from one office to another. This is the career reality in Bangladesh: where ten thousand candidates fight for ten vacant seats. As evening fell, Tanvir sat on a park bench, pondering a bitter question: Is education merely a tool for a job? Or are we all becoming "educated zombies" in a broken system? Despite the tears welling up, he forced a smile. He had another interview tomorrow. In the life of an unemployed youth in Bangladesh, giving up is a luxury he simply cannot afford.