Rana Plaza After Two Years

24th April 2015 – The passage of two years since the tragic collapse of an eight-story commercial building named  Rana Plaza in Savar near Dhaka, Bangladesh, which caused death to 1,134 people, injured 2,515 people and around 2,000 more are lost under the debris. At the very early morning all the family members of Rana Plaza victims have gathered at Rana Plaza. Such a hard time for them. They know everything have finished. Neither their lost belongings will come back nor some of them can get the missing dead bodies. Its been two years, 730 days. Most of the people still hope that there will be a miracle, one day they might find their missing family members who are lost under the debris. Some of them still fighting to get the over due, some have lost all the hope. Some of them demanding the execution of the owner of Rana Plaza, Mr. Rana. The unforgettable pain of mother, brother, sister, children, husband made the Rana Plaza gloomy. Some of the victim who have recovered a little bit also came there to remember their lost colleagues and friends.Mass people, garment workers, human rights organisations protested infront of Rana Plaza for the fatal disaster. After all of these when Farida Begum said, “Tora ki bujhbi amar buker jala” which means “Can you feel the pain inside my heart ?”, I felt that the world is too much brutal and unfair for some people.

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Family members of Rana Plaza victims have gathered at Rana Plaza.

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A women is crying in front of Rana Plaza as her daughter is died due to the collapse.

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A man is holding the pictures of missing garment workers of Rana Plaza.

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Dear God, don’t curse me. I want to get back my sons – Mohammad Razzaque.

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Rana Plaza after two year.

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Bones found at the debris of Rana Plaza.

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A woman was hitting herself by brick on frustration as she haven’t got the dead body of her son.

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Garment Workers are protesting in front of Rana Plaza.

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Dad you told me mom is here, but I found only bricks. – Rehana

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Oh god take me nor give my son. – Ayesha Begum

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Protest by Rana Plaza Victims Network.

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I don’t want to live anymore, why I’m alive, why ???

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A boy with the photo of his parents who were died in the collapse of Rana Plaza.

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A member of Bangladesh Garment Labor Association is protesting for the long overdue of Rana Plaza Victims in front of the debris of Rana Plaza collapse.

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A mother is holding the debris of Rana Plaza. She didn’t get the dead body of his son. That’s the only way she can feel her son.

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A survivor of Rana Plaza is remembering those breathtaking moments when he was stacked in the debris of Rana Plaza.

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Farid gets emotional when she hugged one of his friends mother, who rescued him from the debris of Rana Plaza and then died under the collapse of Rana Plaza.

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Farid got senseless as he remembered his friend who rescued him and got died.

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Farid screaming in the medical bed after he got back his sense.

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Oh God, why are you doing this ? My feelings are dead now. Take my hand and take me away nor tell my son to grab my hand. – Farida Akhter.

Protest In Bangladesh For The Genocide Of 1971

March 25, 1971 –  Pakistani Armed Forces chief General Yahya Khan and the politician Zulfikar Ali Bhutto launched Operation Searchlight to demolish the independence demand of East Bengalis, known as Bangladesh now. The Pakistani army convoy that attacked Dhaka University on 25 March 1971 included 18 Panjabi, 22 Beluch, 32 Panjabi regiment and several battalions. Armed with heavy weapons such as tanks, automatic rifles, rocket launchers, heavy mortar, light machine gun, they encircled Dhaka University. They killed teachers, student, girls and who wasn’t their victim. Archer K. Blood the then consul general of US at Dhaka wrote in his book The Cruel Birth of Bangladesh, “Fire was started at Rokeya Hall (girls’ dormitory) and when the students tried to escape, the military started firing and firing. This night is known as the black night of Bangladeshi history. From the next day Bangladeshi people jumped over Pakistani Armed Forces for the hunger of independence.

March 25, 2015  – It’s been 44 years now. Bangladesh is a independent country now. Even after 44 years the black night of 1971 is still haunting Bangladeshi people’s dream. Dream have been achieved but the memories are still clinching. For the remembrance of those brave Bangladeshi people who have gave their life at March 25 1971, Bangladeshi Social Activists of Lal Jatra made a rally with street act performance, singing and torch lit procession at March 25 2015. They have started from Chobir Hat, Charukola, Dhaka University and ended at Sohrawardi Uddyan, Dhaka, Bangladesh.

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The Brutal Killing of Avijit Roy

Avijit Roy is a prominent American blogger of Bangladeshi origin and founder of the Mukto-Mona (Free-mind) blog site. He has been a regular bdnews24.com columnist also. Avijit Roy is well known for his books ‘Biswaser Virus’ (Virus of Faith) and ‘Sunyo theke Mahabiswa’ (From Vacuum to the Great World). Two of his recent titles had been launched at the ongoing Ekushey Book Fair, Bangladesh.

On 26 February 2015, around 9PM Avijit Roy and his wife Rafida Ahmed Banna were  returning from the Amar Ekushey Book Fair when two assailants stopped them near TSC intersection at Dhaka University, dragged them onto the footpath and started hacking them with machetes. After few minutes both of the assailants escaped the place.

Rafida Ahmed rushed to take her husband Avijit Roy to the hospital though she lost one of her finger as she was trying to defend the attack. DMCH casualty department’s Residential Surgeon Riaz Morshed confirmed the death of Avijit Roy.

Avijit Roy’s father said that, Avijit had received a number of “threatening” emails and messages on social media from hardliners unhappy with his writing.

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This is the footpath where Avijit Roy was killed. Avijit Roy’s blood is still visible. His well wishers have came today to show recpect for his soul by giving flowers.

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A lady is crying infront of TSC’s Raju Vashkorjo. She is neither Avijit Roy’s friend nor family member. She never met Avijit Roy. She is crying because she believes that Avijit Roy is among the cream of Bangladesh which is a big loss to Bangladesh.

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The blood is still visible in the tea stall’s cloth beside the footpath where Avijit Roy was killed.

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Bangladeshi secular activists and protestors take part in a protest against the killing of US blogger of Bangladeshi origin and founder of the Mukto-Mona (Free-mind) blog site, Avijit Roy.

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Bangladeshi secular activists take part in a torch-lit protest against the killing of Avijit Roy in Dhaka 7

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Soul, Belief and Dementia

The connection between Creator and Human in unparalleled. Its all about belief and connection. Moreover the way human represents their belief to their god and goddesses, shows the intimacy between them.

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In this project I tried to portray the intimacy between the Hindu believer of Dhamrai (Near Dhaka, Bangladesh) people and their belief. The night before Charak, the Hindu believer of Dhamrai perform a different kind of ritual. For this ritual, two men make over themselves to portray the character of Kali & Shiva. Kali & Shiva are known as the god and goddesses of Hindu believer. Then, they perform a historical dance drama with smoke and sword all night long which reflects that Kali made by killing her husband Shiva. They take the smoke as blessing which make them weltering in the ground. After that they pick dead human’s head from crematory field. It is said that who and whom’s dead head have picked up is blessed by their god and goddesses.

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Winter Evening

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It was a fine winter evening. I was heading to Mymensing. Before that I wanted to have some good time in the street. Then Rony came and as usual he kept me busy with his new music collection. He made me lost again and he was into smoke. Without smoke and music life would be tasteless, that’s what made us a good friend to each other.

14/12/2015 I 05:39 PM

Homebound (Part – I)

EId-ul-fitr is one of the biggest celebrations for Muslims around the world. As a Muslim country Bangladesh also celebrates this. During this celebration Bangladeshi people loves to celebrate this holy celebration with their family members. As people comes to Dhaka for education and job purpose, during the Eid time the rail stations, bus stations and launch terminal get overpopulated for the number of traveler.

As Bangladesh is a river irrigated country, so there are lots of people from Dhaka travel through the river during the Eid time. For travelling through river the only terminal is Sadarghat Launch Terminal. For this reason Sadarghat Launch Terminal gets over populated before the Eid time. It’s quite cheap also to travel by river rather than road or rail. As a result it seems that most of the travelers are from middle class or lower middle class family who gathered at Sadarghat Launch Terminal during Eid time.

Due to overestimated traveler, people often don’t get the ticket. Sometime they travel at the roof of the launch also. As everyone have to go home to celebrate the Eid day with their family members, they try to get themselves into the launch by hook or by cook which results the launch become overloaded for the number of traveler. It calls a big risk to get homed in the time of celebration.

Remembering Baba Lokenath

Lokenath Brahmachari is called Baba Lokenath or simply Lokenath, was an 18th-century saint and philosopher in Bengal.

Lokenath was born on 31 August 1730 (according to Bengali calendar 18th Bhadra, 1137) on the holy day of Krishna Janmashtami in Chakla village also known as Chaurashi Chakla in North 24 Parganas. His father was Ramnarayan Ghoshal and his mother was Kamala Devi. Both his parents were devotional.

Baba Lokenath finished his meditations as he had attained Samadhi (highest meditation) meditating on the formless Brahman, rather than on any of the deities of the Hindu pantheon. He then went to the eastern part of India, and settled at a small town village called Barodi, near Dhaka in Bangladesh and started living at Dangu Kormokar’s house. Dangu Kormokar was a poor family, but after Baba Lokenath’s stay with them, the family became quite affluent. When Baba Lokenath was new to the village, he was taunted by the villagers; though not long time after they found out his spiritual mastery and became his devotees. From this time on, his name went to many parts of India. His followers believe, at the age of 160, on June 1, 1890 C.E., Baba Lokenath took his mahasamādhi (intentional withdrawal of life).

Baba Lokenath said to his devotees: “Whenever you are in danger, whether in war, forest, ocean or jungle, remember me. I will save you.”

Baba Lokenath is almost a deity in Bengal comparable to the popularity of only Sri Ramakrishna Paramahansa, and his annual festival is held every year by millions of devotees and followers, in many monastery, especially in Barodi as he spent most of his time here and in millions of households through worship, keertan, yajna, food offerings and in many other religious ways on the 19th day of the Hindu month of Jyaishtha (falls mostly on June 2nd or 3rd).

 

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Road To Loknath Baba’s Monastery

5 am, the day was too young when I started my day. There are lots of mosque around my living place. So its quite easy to get up early in the morning. Afterwords I started for Loknath Baba’s Monastery as today was Loknath Baba’s “Tirodhan” (Death Anniversary). In this day lots of his followers come to his monastery to get blessings. During the journey there was a chit chat with Rafique Mama (Rickshaw Puller), rain, empty bus waiting almost everywhere, the cloudy Shitolokkha and so on. But the real journey began when I reached there as there were lots of people, color, activities, beliefs. To see the Loknath Baba’s Monastery photos keep your eyes on my visual diary.

 

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Walk In The Rain

Like the other rainy day, the sky was gloomy. Just about to fall. I couldn’t stop myself to go out and catch the rain. I walked, walked and walked. This rain is harmful for my camera I know. But I couldn’t help myself. I went crazy again. The streets of Dhaka seem different in the monsoon. I was lost in the rainy streets and that’s how yesterday I started my day . . .

 

 

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