I spent the last two days seeing videos of students swimming to the exam centres while memes on social media placed our dear education minister on a helicopter, or a boat while unflattering memes flowed like the sewage did on Dhaka streets.

However, I also did see videos of students and, more shockingly, guardians (moms) complaining that no question seemed to come “common” for their child.

These contrasting contents deepened the existing dichotomy even further. On one hand, I empathise with the girl telling Education Minister Milon to drink the sewage-filled black elixir, while on the other, I feel a deep hatred towards the bigoted mothers and examinees who were complaining about questions not being a carbon copy of what they expected.

It appears that these two feelings boiled up together to become an unappealing soup today, and at the time of writing, HSC students of Bangladesh (not really, only Dhaka) are blocking the streets, making all of our lives more difficult than it needs to be.

Calling themselves “Farm-er-Murgis” in response to an unsolicited comment made by the Education Minister himself.

Murgi, in this context, is an apt term. The humble animal meets most of our protein needs, is abundant in number, and we mould it to be what we require the murgi to be.

Sometimes to only lay eggs, sometimes to only be slaughtered; premiums among them are the “deshi” ones, who, although small, pack a punch in terms of flavour, and the most common of which, the broiler, is used to meet the needs, but neglected highly.

No matter how you utilise the humble murgi, the fact is the murder rate of said species is 100% (unless some die of diseases before the eventual slaughter).

The complex life of the murgi perfectly resembles the life of a Bangladeshi board examinee. He is expected to be a demandable commodity, expected to complete a syllabus within two years, which he realistically does in one and a half. He is expected to specialise in a particular subject, yet he is not given (mostly) qualified teachers to lecture outside of the divine test papers.

And even after overcoming all this, he shall become another foot soldier in the dreaded admission battle where, statistically, most of them will eventually die off and others’ careers will hang in the balance.

A pitiful life which I barely survived, so I don’t envy the ones going through it now.

However, one must realise that the murgi, though awaiting a colossal destruction, is still a bit privileged, for he does not have to forage for food and water, or escape the paws of the proverbial predator. He (especially the Dhaka murgi) is sheltered, quite comfortably, under a temperature-controlled coop, being fed fast food and rice and rapidly generating fat in its nether regions.

And historically (for the last 15 to 20 years) the murgi could rely on substandard questions being repeated in the form of test papers, and the past five to six years have been especially delightful as short syllabuses and autopasses have created a sense of entitlement.

The shock came when suddenly this government enforced a stricter policy and the exam questions were not being “up to the mark.” Meaning, suddenly ensuring quality and making the murgi’s life inconvenient posed a grave threat.

The murgi is justified in calling out this sudden shift in standards, as sudden justice is not justice at all. Believe me, at a time when I sat for my SSC and HSCs, questions were being leaked, coaching centres were rampant suggestion-givers, and test papers were literally board question prophecies.

However, the murgi should (must) realise that change has to come from somewhere. Yes, the weather didn’t help, but sympathy should not be expected to be reserved for the Dhanmondi and Mirpur children; reality is quite harsh for the murgi.

And trying to construct alternate universes may work in Marvel movies, but Bangladesh is that unassuming DC universe that quite never and will never ever deliver.

The murgi shall always remain a delicious staple in the divine kitchen of obscurity.