"August 30, 1971, was the day I saw my husband for the last time," she recalls. "My marriage with Altaf has an intriguing story. My family was not too keen about Altaf wanting to marry me. Begum Sufia Kamal intervened and made the marriage viable and in 1966, Altaf Mahmud and I got married."

"During the five years I had been with Altaf, I never had a chance to complain. Although he was primarily a music composer for films, his preferred genre of music was Gono Sangeet or peoples' songs. He had also composed tunes for the dance-recital--Rajpath Jonopath and many more. Amar bhaier roktey rangano ekushey February was initially composed by Abdul Latif. Later, Altaf modified the tunes, which were more heart-wrenching and imbibed the spirit of Ekushey effectively.

"Besides participating in the armed movement against the Pakistan army, Altaf was also composing inspirational songs for the Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra. On August 30, 1971, some Pakistani military men stormed our house, looking for ammunition buried in our yard by the Crack Platoon, one of the urban guerrilla groups. Abdus Samad, a former acquaintance of Altaf, had informed the military of Altaf's links with the Crack Platoon.

"Altaf was then arrested along with others. After December 16, I looked everywhere possible, but failed to trace any sign of my husband," pauses Sara.

Is this the state Altaf Mahmud and other martyred freedom fighters had envisioned? Sara retorts, "Where are the values the martyrs struggled for? The martyrs have sacrificed themselves for Bangla, but we still do not have a standard format of the language. The same word is spelled differently in different books."

Should February 21 be one of the special occasions in a year when we ruminate on the inestimable gifts the martyrs have bestowed on us--our language, our identity? For our own sake as Bangladeshis, let's hope not.