War !

Nothing happened to my city. Everything remains unaltered. I heard the same lawless sound while I was in Banglamotre; I faced the same speed of vehicles while crossing roads. The rickshawalas didn’t show willingness to take me as they do often. They didn’t know I was in hurry carrying medicine for my father. I passed one whole night lying with my laptop. Father and I were lying on separate beds in a cabin of Holy family.That night I forgot to take warm cloths . At midnight I  comprehended my father slowly covered me with ‘Katha’. I pretended I was in deep sleep.

Few days back I was actually in Shoronkhola to take photos on hurricane SIDR. I never saw a war, but I know what it can do. As I went inside of Saudkhali I got the feelings of passing a village harshly damaged by bombing. Crying, mourning, dead bodies, hungers, injuries all captured me.  I had to put my eye in view finder and made that disgusting sound ‘Ghaz’….Someone was telling how he could survive whole night holding a tree. He was not alone I found many who could survive by same way. People who couldn’t hold anything were washed away by the wave.

I returned to Dhaka when I heard the news of my father’s illness.

I am in Dhaka now. I don’t know what is happening there, how people pass lives. Sometimes I made call to Jaid Bhai, Sazzad Bhai, Deba, Asad to know the current situation. Sisters in the hospital take care of my father and he is getting well. I don’t know how people in Saudkhali will recover.