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A Body of Men

By Shayera Moula

“The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fears subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from."
-- Joanna Baillie

IT begins its journey with pulses that mimic the rhythm of a marching troop. The heart, the source, commends forth a rush of blood to branch out into the most remote and hidden parts of the body only to stimulate its senses there, only to revive what could have been lost.

The more the emotion, the stronger the heart, the master of the body. The stronger the master, the braver its soldiers. With more agony and hunger for revenge, the heart beats faster and the veins thicken with heat reaching to all its roots. When the blood races to those finger tips, it strengthens that which holds on to weapons, to loved ones, to hope. When it reaches to the toes, it reinforces that which can run for its love for nation, for its cover for safety and for its life till the end. It is the reaction of each and every part that matters. They all awake and interact with each other to function as a whole. It is a matter of timing and patience or simply working together that makes the human body so intriguing yet fascinating. In times of pain, and fear, when one fails to function the others collapse so it becomes vital for every part to show courage, to never give up, to realize its role as a hero no matter where in the field. And so the body breathes. The breath is a little deeper with the lungs a little heavier. But that don't matter, because love had always overcome fear and this ritual shall continue. Breathing in, the love for the nation, and breathing out, the terror for its enemies, suddenly the numbness disappears altogether gone. The trembling of the body is replaced with rage, the dilemma of what to do next is replaced with a fist and the confusion of a diverting mind is placed with a clear direction. The eyes immediately open. The blurr is removed, and the target is clear. The body and the nation mirror each other. The body is set, the nation is ready. The mind is focused, the soldiers are in place. There is no turning back, the country moves forward, the body with it and suddenly, magically, all is one.

A tribute to the soldiers and the many others who died a fearless death for their love for their nation.

Looking Back and the March Ahead

Sameeha Suraiya

BELONGING to the post '71 generation, my ideas of the 26th of March and the nine-month long struggle are inevitably shaped by what I see or hear. I was not required to live through any of those experiences. All I can do is bring myself to understand the wave of nationalist sentiments that raged on that fateful day in March. Valiant souls of Bengal had united and stood strong. I have had the priviledge of knowing some of these revolutionaries who had not hesitated a second to leave or risk all that was ever familiar to them for the dangerous challenge looming ahead. One of them, my Nana Lt. Comdr. Syed Mutahir Uddin, a freedom fighter and a dear person I have always looked up to. The dangerous courses that he tread, the lengths he took to save fellow Bengalis, sometimes even at the risk of his own family and his heroic defiance while enemy forces sought wildly after him are tales that both haunt and inspire. And it makes me realize that we had made through it all because of the indestructible unity; the unbreakable chain that had created the most powerful of all brotherhoods and camaraderie. Add to this, the most awe-inspiring sentiments of nationalism, and it was bound to be the most explosive ingredient. And here we are today!

As a nation we have forged far ahead from that dark era. Today I am a proud Bangladeshi. We have gathered many a pebble on the journey down here. And yet, I sense something amiss. A vital piece in the puzzle hides somewhere. Because my country bleeds still.

Today it does not require a foreign invader to create chaos. We are, it seems our own enemies. The recent carnage at the BDR Headquarters speaks volumes of where we stand. The heinous tragedy shall go down in history just like our Muktijuddho. After all the speculations, debates and interpretations professed by pundits to rickshawallahs, the one thing that glares through it all is our stunning lack of unity and devotion to our nation, whereas the glorious 26th symbolizes just that. It aches to see this country rip and tear itself into shreds. I do not dare think of what our revered freedom fighters might make out of all this.

To defend and protect our heard-earned sovereignty and to stand united are all that it takes to plunge out of the murky vortex we sometimes find ourselves in. Let us rise above all personal entanglements. Let us always put our dearest country first. It is what I pledge to myself. For my Nana who had fought and lived to see freedom, and for thousands of other souls who had bravely embraced death, this is the least I can do.

“I am just trying to be like everyone else. Could you bring me that piece of stick?”

Like an automaton I brought him a sharp-ended, broken piece of branch that was lying next to the rocks.

“I would have done it myself,” he gasped. “But as you can see, I don't have hands anymore. Could you please jab the stick through my eyes, and the perhaps through my ears?”

It was a difficult request to oblige. So I stood there and pondered.

“See, I am just trying to be like everyone else.” The old man went on to explain. “We fought them off in the war, but they still manage to rule the country. They travel in their fancy cars and live in lavish homes while we rot in the streets. Despite being publicly identified as war criminals they still dare to stand for the elections, and some people still vote for them. And worst of all, just when they are about to be put on trials, chaos break out in the whole country, thus taking focus away from them. No one has the legs to chase them off the country, or the hands to shove them away. No one has the eyes to spot them, or ears to comprehend their hypocrisy when they talk. Everyone is an armless, sightless vegetable. I am just trying to be everyone else.”