Supergirl takes on Dhaka buses — and it ends exactly as you'd expect

Supergirl joined forces with the maniacal bounty hunter Lobo, defeated Krem of the Yellow Hills — the odious pirate who kidnaps women as breeding stock — and helped avenge the feisty alien teenager Ruthye Marye Knoll. She survived interstellar battles, ruthless mercenaries, and the kind of universe-ending chaos that usually requires dramatic orchestral music. Then, she made what would later be recognised as the greatest tactical error of her career.

Keen to explore what scientists might classify as one of Earth’s more challenging habitats, Supergirl landed in Dhaka, folded up her cape, and decided to experience the city the way millions do every day: by taking local buses.

Tap Here to Add The Daily Star As A Trusted Source

The trouble began before she even boarded the bus, which looked less like a vehicle and more like a veteran of multiple wars — its paint peeling like old bandages, windows rattling in protest, and dents arranged in a pattern that suggested it had survived both traffic and artillery.

Then she had to figure out which bus actually went where. Three conductors yelled three different destinations, each with the conviction of a man who had personally designed the city's transport network.

"Farmgate! Farmgate!"

"Banani! Banani!"

"Gulshan! Mohakhali!”

Supergirl possessed super hearing. Unfortunately, all it did was allow her to hear everyone shouting simultaneously.

The conductor took one look inside and cheerfully declared, "Ekto chapen."

This phrase roughly translates to, "Please ignore the known laws of physics."

Kryptonians possess extraordinary strength, but even Supergirl struggled to discover where exactly she was expected to "chapen" (move). There was no empty floor, no visible aisle and certainly no personal space. She briefly considered phasing through matter before remembering that wasn't actually one of her powers.

As she steadied herself, she noticed the famous reserved seats for women.

Finding one vacant, however, proved about as likely as spotting a unicorn in Motijheel.

Most were occupied by perfectly healthy young men who had suddenly developed an extraordinary medical condition known as Selective Public Transport Blindness. Symptoms include an inability to notice elderly passengers, pregnant women, or the large sign hanging directly above one's head.

The reserved seats themselves deserved special recognition. Someone, somewhere had apparently decided the most appropriate place for women, children, and elderly passengers was directly above the engine. The arrangement allowed commuters to enjoy a complimentary steam bath while vibrating gently like a mobile phone set to silent mode.

Climate-controlled seating, Dhaka style.

Just as Supergirl prepared to stand, the bus helper looked at the crowd gathered at the door and shouted, "Ai mohila uthais na!"

Image

For one hopeful second, she assumed he was making room for women.

How thoughtful.

Then she realised he meant the opposite.

His concern was not that women deserved safer travel. His concern was that there was not enough room for them to stand without inconveniencing everyone else. In one magnificent display of performative chivalry, the solution was simply to leave them behind while another five men folded themselves into spaces previously occupied by oxygen.

Somewhere in the distance, equality quietly requested another extension.

The journey continued. Or rather, it crawled.

Traffic moved at roughly the same pace as continental drift.

Supergirl could have lifted the entire bus over the congestion and delivered everyone to their destinations before the traffic light changed. Instead, she watched something far more remarkable unfold.

Every woman on board seemed to operate with instincts that no superhero possessed.

One held her bag firmly against her chest. Another positioned herself carefully near the exit without making eye contact.

A university student silently calculated how many stops remained before she needed to begin the delicate choreography of getting off a bus that had no intention of stopping completely.

It was not fear exactly, but rather a premeditated preparation.

The sort that comes from repeating the same journey every day.

Then came another lesson.

Someone standing behind Supergirl decided that the shrinking space inside the bus permitted him to test the limits of personal boundaries.

She turned.

He looked away with remarkable dedication, suddenly fascinated by the advertisements outside.

Nobody said anything. Nobody seemed surprised.

Back on Krypton, villains usually announced themselves with dramatic speeches and elaborate costumes. Here, villains arrived quietly.

Supergirl found that far more disturbing than any alien invasion, and eventually, the conductor announced the stop.

He shouted the destination while the bus slowed from dangerously fast to only moderately dangerous. Passengers began getting off before the wheels had fully stopped.

Supergirl followed but landed gracefully, of course.

That evening, Supergirl returned to flying. Later, her cousin Superman asked what the toughest mission of her career had been. She didn't mention space pirates or intergalactic wars. "Ride to Farmgate," she sighed. "Rush hour."

Some cities need superheroes. Dhaka city, however, does not need someone who can fly. It needs a transport system that lets everyone else travel without feeling like they are in a Shakib Khan action film.