Chhintaikaris Got Talent: A TikTok show that ends in a police raid

BrishtiKhai, a well-known food blogger, wrapped up yet another paid review at Pitha-burg in Jigatola — where the food looks unappetising and tastes even worse. But hey, if it pays the bills, who's complaining? As she walked down the street, still lying through her teeth about how "surprisingly good" the food tasted, a viewer commented on her Facebook Live, "Two men are following you."  

 

Before she could process the warning, poof! Her phone was gone. It turns out the streets are not the best places to get views. Muggers are always tuned in, but in real life.

A day in the life of a Dhaka mugger is simple — sleep through daylight, wake up at dusk, and pick a method for the night's earnings. The options are aplenty: a sprinkle of devil's breath to turn victims into willing donors, a bit of parkour, crouching like a street cat to scout which car door was left foolishly unlocked, or, for those who enjoy a bit of cardio, chasing pedestrians with a machete.

It's all a thrilling game, fueled by the rush of power, knowing well that the law here is as present as Thomas and Martha Wayne in Bruce Wayne's adult life.

However, muggers have their own code of ethics. Take the recent case of an actor who fell victim in a relatively quieter area of the capital. They relieved him of his wallet — around Tk 9,000. Just as they were about to swipe his phone, a rare moment of enlightenment dawned upon them. Staring at their freshly "borrowed" device, they suddenly grasped the sheer administrative nightmare of dealing with a stolen phone — tracking, locks, and the dreaded factory reset. 

In a stunning display of criminal integrity, they handed it back, proving that honour still lives among thieves. After all, surviving on stolen goods is one thing, but even that requires at least a couple of functioning brain cells.

This opens up a whole new platform for muggers; since they clearly have respect for the entertainment world, why not let them put on a show?  

Let them sing, let them dance — but tie them up first. That's the deal. If you are a mugger with talent, prove it, but with your hands tied. Jig your way out of justice.

Amin Chor-dhory, a proud representative of Shiddheswari's thriving mugging industry (because, surprise, not all of them hail from Mohammadpur — crime is a booming business citywide), has a revolutionary idea: Citizens should really reconsider wasting their energy on beating up muggers.

A day in the life of a Dhaka mugger is simple — sleep through daylight, wake up at dusk, and pick a method for the night's earnings. The options are aplenty: a sprinkle of devil's breath to turn victims into willing donors, a bit of parkour, crouching like a street cat to scout which car door was left foolishly unlocked, or, for those who enjoy a bit of cardio, chasing pedestrians with a machete.

"We take a beating today, forget it by tomorrow, and the cycle just resets. The jailers let us go because, frankly, we're just as useless behind bars as we are at home. So, if you catch us, why not turn it into a spectacle? Let's be honest, there's not much else to do in Dhaka — other than eating out, where you'll still get robbed, just with a service charge," he explained, demonstrating the kind of economic insight that would put our policymakers to shame.

Inspired by this wisdom, another group of enterprising muggers in Jigatola decided to do more than just steal Ms Khai's phone on a slow business night. Instead of flipping it for cash, they launched a groundbreaking TikTok show — 'Chhintaikaris Got Talent'.

The mission? Educating the next generation of criminals on how to perfect the art of mugging without the pesky inconvenience of getting caught. Because why let crime be a dirty little secret when it could be the next viral sensation?

At first, things were running like a well-oiled crime syndicate — tutorials, pro tips, even live-action demos. But, as it turns out, not all muggers are criminal masterminds. In a stunning display of technological incompetence, they forgot to disable location services during a live session. Within minutes, their enthusiastic audience had front-row seats to a real-life police raid, watching the chase unfold in glorious high definition.

The comment section? Absolutely ruthless!

"If you're so slick, how come you got caught?"

"Two minutes of fame and you forgot that you are wanted? Bro, crime isn't for everyone."

"Next time, blur the cops, man. This is just sad."

And just like that, Chhintaikaris Got Talent aired its grand finale. No tearful goodbyes and no season renewal, just an abrupt cut to reality as the entire cast was escorted offscreen before they could even hit 'End Live'.