A grandmother time travels to the hardest time in her life, reflecting on one of history's most tragic - and forgotten event, The Bangladesh Liberation War.
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I tried delaying it but deep down I knew it wasn't worth it, things were only getting worse. Everyday more people were getting murdered, more people getting murdered and enslaved. The whole family was now onboard with the idea of fleeing so my opinion was not regarded as important. "Pack only what you need, Inshallah we will return" Baba said confidently but even I could hear the doubt in his voice. "Is Bhai coming?" I whispered to Bhabi. She had a solemn look on her face and avoided eye contact but her eyes wouldn't focus on one thing but kept moving back and forth across the room. "Bhabi?" I asked again, my voice quivering the tiniest bit. Still not looking me in the eye she simply whispered "I don't know."
Would I be able to leave the country without my brother? Would any of us be able to flee for safety whilst he willingly puts himself on the frontlines to protect our country?
Leaving the bedroom I headed towards the drawing room adjusting the dupatta on my head. Baba was sitting in the drawing room, his glasses perked up on his nose while he read the latest newspaper. "Is Bhai not coming with us?" I asked once more, hoping the answer would be something different. Baba's eyes froze on the passage which he was ready in the newspaper. "He wants to stay with the Mukti Bahini - be a freedom fighter. Nothing we say will sway his mind" I got up from my seat startled by his response. "Then let's stay here! Why leave?"
"Our home is in ruins we must leave in order to be free"
