Ms Visa Vetter is spreading out report cards at the end of the school year. The classroom is filled with different nations, with your usual straight-A nerds such as Japan, Singapore, and Switzerland sitting in the front row, excited yet anxious to see who came first this year. At the back, the usual stinky group of backbenchers, afraid as always, watches on as the report cards make their way to them. Among them, a secretly ambitious student shakes in his boots. Though to his fellow backbenchers, he expresses no desire for good grades, deep down, just like any other top European passport, he wants to do well—and for just once, to get a taste of a teacher’s good wishes.
However, this wish for a petty Bangladeshi passport, which he didn’t study for but still holds high hopes for, doesn’t come true. He gets a disappointing 38. A humiliation once again.
Singapore, sitting proudly in the front row, gold-star badge on display, the teacher’s pet, raises her hand before her name is even called, “Miss, who got the highest?”
A rhetorical question, of course. Everyone expected that cocky attitude to be met with expected results. But poor Singapore did not get her wish, for this time, it was Ireland who was the class topper. Japan, South Korea, Germany, France, and the whole European gang nod smugly—top rankers as they are, every year, the first positions are filled by these passports. It’s like, without any effort, they get to have everything they want. “Where do they even get the time to study this much?” frustrated Bangladesh asks himself, his spirits no longer wanting to remain a backbencher.
This time around, Bangladesh wants to do well. He sets up a plan. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” a motto he decides to adopt. His first plan of action is to befriend the toppers. Seemingly, this is quite challenging for the Bangladeshi passport—no topper ever wants to be friends with a nerd. The nerds and the jocks hardly make perfect study companions, but there is no other resort for Bangladesh. So, he writes letters to his fellow classmates who have done well. He submits visa-free friendship letters to various classmates (countries), hoping for “open-door policies”. Some reply with a red-stamped REJECTED letter and a note, “Sorry, your security history scares our parents.” A fear all too familiar.
Bangladesh knows the subjects he’s weak in. Return guarantees and bilateral agreements are his toughest subjects. He often comes close to understanding the subject of return guarantees, but “What is there to be done?” Bangladesh wonders. “Is it my fault that my political environment and education systems are not up to par?” He tries hard to improve his studies, especially in developing his internal economy and education system. Yet employability remains a concern for his citizens. “How many times do I have to change the education policy? When will it ever be enough for them?”
Bangladesh knows these issues are of no concern to the nerds, so he doesn’t bother about them too much. This has often been the problem with students like Bangladesh—always ready to accept the reward but too lazy to actually earn one. In desperation, Bangladesh tries another method this time—hoping that his close neighbours might help him. He notices a secret study group being formed with the Asian passports. So, Bangladesh nervously approaches.
Bangladesh, nervously sliding into a seat next to Singapore, said, “Mind if I sit here? I heard the Maldives saved me a spot.”
Singapore smiles politely but firmly utters, “Oh, I have access to 193 countries. You’d kinda… skew the aesthetics of the table.”
Maldives whispering, “Sorry, bro. Even I needed three regional summits and a tourism miracle to get here.”
Bangladesh, with a bit of water lingering at the corner of his eyes, states his case,
“I’m improving! And trying to improve more, albeit slowly!”
The sassy Singapore, just like the typical cool girl with an attitude, breaks Bangladesh’s heart,
“Like, tectonic plates slowly. Come back when you can visit the EU without a 5-page application.”
Seeing no way in, Bangladesh turns to his old family ties, India, for some help. But this time, even she’s not willing.
Bangladesh asks, “Cousin! You’re at rank 80 now, right? Can you put in a word for me at the High Commission Cafeteria?”
India, with an annoyed look, replies, “Listen, I only have access to 56 countries myself. We’re not even invited to the cool NATO lunch table.”
Bangladesh, feeling dejected, “Still! That’s 17 more than me! You must have a trick.”
India, half-jokingly, “Mostly economic leverage and IT exports. Oh, and good PR. You… still have baggage issues. Literally.”
Bangladesh sighs, saying, “Even my luggage gets flagged…”
Truly with no way left, a dejected Bangladesh sits on the steps of the school. Finding him so depressed, Ms Visa Vetter approaches him. She wants to remind Bangladesh of the most important factor, which is not the grades of passports but what’s actually inside you as a nation.
Ms Visa Vetter, crossing her arms, “Here’s the thing, Bangladesh…” She looks at him, slightly annoyed, but with a hint of sarcasm, “Rankings may rise, but doors will remain closed unless your GDP is actually big enough to catch someone’s attention.”
Bangladesh looks up at her with a weary smile. “Guess that’s the real lesson, isn’t it? You can change your grades, but unless you bulk up your economy and stabilise things, you’ll always be carrying that extra baggage.”
And with that, Bangladesh runs back to the classroom, ready to repeat the cycle again next year—only, this time, a little more aware of the game he’s trying to play.