Adhora Ahmed

As the death toll keeps rising and panic brews even more, we fear for ourselves and our loved ones.

In the momentous month of March, I seized the opportunity to visit the Liberation War Museum.

The constant upheavals began when my peaceful slumber was shattered by a rain of bullets on March 25, 1971. I watched in fear from the balcony of our flat in Banani, while your grandfather went up to the rooftop with the neighbours. The children, including your mother, wanted to see as well, but I shoved them inside.

Have you ever found something extraordinary yet obscure? You wish to make it known and keep it a secret at the same time. Most of all, you want to cherish it, like trapping lightning in a bottle. That’s what happened to me late last year.