After Hasina fled, I first entered the Parliament building. After staying there for a long time, I then set off towards the Ganabhaban.

After setting off towards the Ganabhaban, I met a boy. At that time, we were all shouting victory slogans together.

While walking, I talked to the boy for a long time.
The boy is a college student. Home is in Rajshahi.

I asked, "How did you come from so far? There were supposed to be police and army at every point."

The boy said, "Brother, since the date of the long march was changed, we two friends set off in a hurry. In case we couldn't come again later."

I asked, "Did the police not stop you anywhere?"

The boy replied, "They stopped many. They didn't let them come. The League's guys even hacked a few. That's why we came by making another arrangement."

"We downloaded many pictures of Sheikh Mujib and Hasina on our mobile phones. If the police caught us, we would say we are Chhatra League guys."

Saying this, the two boys laughed together.

Then he started saying again, "And we wore the oldest t-shirt and pants we had. So that it looks like we are some orphan poor boys if seen. Then they won't stop us."

"We set off with the vow that no matter what, we have to come. We couldn't come directly; we had to change vehicles many times and come in pieces."

Then I saw on the boy's mobile wallpaper - a picture with his name, father's name, college name, and number written on it. This arrangement was made so that even if he died, someone could identify him. His friend's mobile had the same.

Seeing me noticing the wallpaper, he showed me another thing. A small piece of paper with his name and address written on it, pinned to the inside of his t-shirt.

I asked, "Why is it attached here even after being on the mobile? And that too inside the t-shirt."

The boy said, "This is my mother's idea. Mother attached it while I was leaving. So that if the mobile gets lost in the crowd and I die, then by seeing the address inside the t-shirt, they can send the corpse to my mother."

While saying these things, they went towards the road in front of the Ganabhaban. I stood there stunned for a while.

I was trying to remember the face of such a brave mother who could send her living son to a procession and wait for hours for his corpse, but I couldn't.

(The writing is taken from the book 'Roktojhora July')

5 August, 2024
- Ibrahim Khalil Shawon