On a prayer mat in a quiet village home, two-year-old Sumaiya folds her tiny hands and whispers for her father to return.
Her mother, Shahinaz Akter, watches in silence, knowing that no prayer can undo the bullet that took Milon Mia’s life on July 21, 2024.
He was shot by police during a protest in Siddhirganj, Narayanganj - one of dozens of civilians killed in the crackdown that followed the anti-discrimination movement.
A year later, the grief remains raw, and the children of the fallen continue to live in its shadow.
A family shattered
Milon, a fish trader and father of two, had built a modest life with Shahinaz in Siddhirganj Pool.
Their son, Din Islam, was enrolled in a good school. Their daughter, Sumaiya, was just learning to speak.
But on that Saturday morning, as police opened fire on protesters along the Dhaka-Chittagong highway, Milon was caught in the crossfire while standing outside his shop.
“He was always worrying about our children’s future,” Shahinaz said. “Now our son barely speaks, and our daughter still waits for her father to come home.”
After Milon’s death, Shahinaz faced threats from local political leaders and was forced to bury her husband in Patuakhali, far from their home.
She filed a case at Siddhirganj Police Station, but intimidation followed.
With no income and mounting fear, she returned to her father’s village, where she now lives with her children and relies on family support.
“I’m often sick,” she said. “If something happens to me, what will happen to my children?”
A mother lost to the sky
Another child searches for a parent who will never return.
One-year-old Shoaiba lost her mother, Sumaiya Akter, when a bullet allegedly fired from a RAB helicopter pierced through their sixth-floor balcony grill on July 20, 2024.
Sumaiya had stepped outside to watch the commotion in the sky. She died instantly, her blood soaking the floor as her mother, Asma Begum, screamed for help.
“She never even heard her baby say ‘Ma,’” Asma said. “Now the child calls for her mother every evening. We try to comfort her, but how do you replace a mother?”
Sumaiya had come to stay with her mother after giving birth.
Her husband, according to the family, has not kept in touch. The bullet marks remain on the balcony grill - a haunting reminder of a life cut short by a stray shot from above.
Five children, one van, and a final goodbye
In Jatrabari’s Shanir Akhra, 18-year-old Robiul Islam still remembers the moment his father, Jahangir, collapsed beside him during a protest on July 20.
Jahangir, a CNG driver, had joined his son and friends to distribute water and biscuits to demonstrators.
A bullet struck his head, and Robiul watched as his father’s brain spilled onto the pavement.
With no ambulance available, Robiul transported his father to Dhaka Medical College in a van. Jahangir died six hours later.
Now, Robiul works in a shop for Tk5,000 a month. His mother, Momtaz Begum, cleans homes to make ends meet.
Their five children - aged 3 to 18 - live in a rented flat in Kajla, struggling to pay rent and school fees.
“I tried enrolling my sons in a madrasa,” Momtaz said. “They asked for Tk12,000. I had to walk away.”
Two Eids have passed, and no one has checked on them. “We’re invisible,” she said. “If their father were alive, we wouldn’t be living like this.”
The uncounted and unheard
According to the July Smriti Foundation, over a hundred children lost at least one parent during the anti-discrimination movement.
But there is no official count, no comprehensive list, and no national plan for rehabilitation.
These families - scattered across Narayanganj, Jatrabari, and beyond - live with trauma, poverty, and silence.
Their stories are not just about grief, but about abandonment.
Promises of compensation and justice remain unfulfilled.
The children left behind are growing up in the shadows of a revolution that changed the country, but not their fate.
As Bangladesh marks one year since the Monsoon Revolution, the stories of Shahinaz, Asma, Momtaz, and their children demand more than remembrance.
They demand accountability, care, and recognition.
“We took to the streets for our country,” Shahinaz said. “Now I just want my children to have a future.”