I write this memoir sitting in a free nation, born on August 5 with the blood of thousands spilt on the streets of Bangladesh, like crimson rivers carving our path to freedom. This nation emerged from 15 years of rage, pain, silence, and atrocities that history will unfold as if each moment of suffering was a brushstroke on the canvas of our struggle.
Yet, this Bangladesh now glows in the light of a new sun, like rain on a thirsty, dried-out plant on the brink of death, bringing life back to withered dreams. The people of this nation are united like atoms, their separation requiring a nuclear force.
However, much remains to be done.
The indiscriminate attacks on our minority population, the political murders, the vandalism, the looting, the boiling hatred -- all must cease.
This is not a time to truly celebrate but a time to make adjustments, and amends, and become the nation the martyrs of this movement dreamed of.
Like a child taking its first steps, this nation is now without guidance, flailing its arms in search of meaning. In this uncertainty lies heavy damage.
This damage can never be undone, but it can be restored in the future.
Just as a mighty tree begins as a fragile sapling, requiring care, nourishment, and a guiding hand, so do we.
We need to unlearn hate and lawlessness. We need to become better, and I believe we can.
Our loved ones, our students, and our peers have sacrificed their lives for this cause. We have watched blood fill the streets like rainwater in monsoon.
We have felt the oppressive noose around our necks tightening like a vice, inching us toward our end.
Now, we are born with a second chance, and everyone can feel in their bones that things need to change.
The phases of reformation, restoration, rebuilding, and renewal have begun.
Will you be the ray of sunlight that breaks through the clouds for your people and yourself, or will you cower in the shadows of pessimism?
Will you choose to act or to shame?
Will you choose to love or to hate?
We hold a bare canvas in our minds, one that will be painted with the colours of our choice. Make sure the colours you paint don’t leave a bitter taste of hate and resentment. Make this image something you can be proud of. Because once again, we are Bangladeshi -- of the people, for the people, and by the people.
Navid Reza is Social Media Manager at the Dhaka Tribune.