No one wants to live in isolation. We all long for someone who waits for us, calls again when we do not answer the phone, or knocks on our door with concern after it has remained closed for days. Since the dawn of human civilisation, people have survived by living together. They gathered around the fire not only for warmth but also to share their fears, hopes, stories, and experiences. Human history is, above all, a history of companionship. Yet modern urban life seems to have broken that ancient circle. Today, despite living among millions, people are lonelier than ever before.
In June alone, several individuals were found dead in as many apartments across Dhaka. While they might have belonged to different social levels, different age groups, and led drastically different lives, their destiny seemed strikingly similar: their demise went unnoticed by people for days. Such quiet disappearance is perhaps the most striking headline of our era. We should not just be treating these events as personal misfortunes, but recognise them for what they really are – indicators of the state of crisis of urban societies.
We travel shoulder to shoulder in overcrowded metro trains, yet rarely notice the exhaustion in the face beside us. We have thousands of friends on social media, yet often no one to knock on our door when we fall ill. We exchange countless messages every day, but one sincere question- “How are you, really?”– has become increasingly rare.
Karl Marx believed the modern economic system alienated individuals from their work and ultimately, from each other. His ideas centred on the working industrial masses, but the forms of alienation today have morphed: from factories, into our offices, workplaces, university campuses, hospitals and corps. Our lives are work, but instead of living to work, we are starting to live for work, replacing ourselves with our roles and responsibilities.
Sociologist Emile Durkheim thought that societies remain united not simply because of laws, but through social bonds. However, in contemporary urban Bangladesh, these bonds are gradually dissolving. Close families have become atomised, community neighbourhoods diluted; ties of kinship often end up as rituals observed solely on special occasions and festivals. At the same time, a relentless work culture that turns everyone into a mad competitor strips individuals of their time and attention; their days are never truly done because their phones are never fully turned off and the flood of their emails never really stops so that anxiety never ceases; their time, their attention span, and their emotions wear out, just so they can maintain connection with another human being.
This has become a growing global public health concern. According to the World Health Organisation’s Commission on Social Connection (2025), one in six people worldwide experiences chronic loneliness. The report estimates approximately 871,000 premature deaths associated with social isolation and loneliness occur every year. Loneliness is not merely an emotional burden; it is a profound public health challenge.
Bangladesh is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. However, it raises the question: are we actually next to each other, or are we just living next to each other? We might stay in the same building without even knowing our neighbours. We might be in the same office, not knowing the hardship that someone is facing secretly. We are collectively present with numbers, yet we are increasingly lonely individually.
Addressing this crisis requires more than expanding mental health services. It calls for rebuilding the human connection itself. The first steps may be small: calling an old friend without a reason, checking on elderly parents who live alone, or simply asking a colleague, “Is everything alright?” This single question is enough to remind someone that they still matter to another human being.
Ultimately, the hardest question comes back to each of us. The question is not how many days it would take for others to discover that we have died. The far more unsettling question is this: while we are still alive, how many people truly know that we exist?
The writer is an Associate Professor, Department of Communication and Journalism, University of Chittagong. Email: [email protected]
