Last week, I visited a photography exhibition at the National Art Gallery at the Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy where all the photographs revealed our people's movements and the golden steps taken by the freedom fighters towards liberation and against the brutality of the inhuman Pakistan Army. History from 1969 to 1971 seemed to come alive in this exhibition. Joynal Abedin, Mokbul Hossain and Abdul Matin shared their memories during the times of these movements in these images. What shocked me was the number of visitors at this exhibition, which was extremely poor. Finally, when I was coming out from the exhibition, a visitor asked me who Selina Parveen was. I had to explain who this martyred intellectual was. I felt absolutely empty within.
Golam Rosul Maruf, Department of Physics.
University of Dhaka
On our Victory Day, I was strolling around the busy streets of Dhaka near DU and saw a speeding car with our national flag on its bonnet, which made me think of something. Our epitome of pride is our national flag and it must be upheld with respect. This flag is not merely a piece of cloth, rather a true mixture of colours that signifies thirty million people who sacrificed their lives. Some of the upper class people like to celebrate this victory day as any other day partying with friends. It is a day to be inspired, recalling the martyrs' sacrifice, appreciation of liberty and our liability to carry it out. But again it's our own mishap that we still do not recognise ourselves. We carry our own identity as foreign supporters do for their favourite teams in sports. Can't we uphold our identity with self-respect? Doesn't this day inspire us to do so?
Md.Shamiul Haque, Dept. of English.
University of Dhakas.
A few days ago, it was almost midnight and I was returning home after work. It was the day of our glorious victory day and everywhere I could feel a sense of celebration. The air of winter was announcing its presence powerfully. I was walking beside a community centre not very far from my residence. Suddenly a big crowd attracted my eyes. It was quite an unusual scene. I became curious and went to see what was up. Within moments everything became very clear to me. A man was selling leftover biryani (he must have collected it from the nearest community centre) and there were many poor people who were enjoying it at a very low price. Mainly rickshaw-pullers, day labourers and street urchins were consuming it. The fragrance of biryani was all over the area. I saw a very small kid eating it happily. Suddenly I felt very bad that after 35 years of independence, we could not provide the most basic need of our common people-- food!
Mohammed Sohel Hara,
Olympia Palace Restaurant.
36, Topkhana Road, Dhaka
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