Reposted from Medium , August 11, 2024, including cover image.
Azad woke up at 12:00 PM to the sunlight streaming through his window and onto his face. His head throbbed slightly as he lay there, wishing he could sleep a bit longer. Eventually, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling through social media.
Azad was a Bangladeshi student living in Poland, where he had been for a year, pursuing a degree in business studies. Life abroad hadn’t been easy for him. He had to learn many things from scratch he couldn’t even cook a simple meal when he first arrived. Finding good food was a struggle, and he had to do all the cleaning himself, something his mother had always handled back home in Bangladesh. Despite knowing the hardships he would face, Azad had chosen to study in Poland for the better opportunities and standard of living it promised.
Initially, he couldn’t find a job and ended up working at McDonald’s, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting. Each day was a challenge as he worked hard to continue his studies. Coming from a humble background, his family couldn’t afford to send him money for his education abroad.
It was summer break, and most colleges were closed, giving Azad a four-month vacation. Recently, turmoil had erupted in Bangladesh. University students were protesting against the quota system, and in the past two days, many people had died six yesterday, and around fifty today. The police and pro-government forces had shot these students, and the shocking videos were all over the internet. Azad felt deeply saddened by the violence, wishing for a peaceful resolution.
As he browsed the internet, something unusual caught his attention most of his Bengali friends were offline. This had never happened before. Usually, at least one or two people were online, but now, nobody was online. Azad sent messages to several friends, but no one replied. He had spoken to his closest friend, Russell, the night before, who had mentioned that police were shooting in his area, Badda. This worried Azad even more, especially since Russell was known for his hot temper. Russell had always been quick to fight, even getting into trouble back in school. Azad feared that Russell might have gone to the protest and done something reckless.
Then, Azad saw online that the internet had been shut down in Bangladesh, effectively cutting the country off from the world. This news upset him greatly. He tried calling his parents and other family members, but no one picked up. It was as if the connection to his homeland had been severed entirely.
Azad spent the entire day in a state of anxiety. That night, one of his seniors sent him a link with alarming news: India had invaded Bangladesh, thousands were dead, and women were being raped. Although Azad knew this was likely false, the current situation made him worry even more. He couldn’t sleep, his mind racing with thoughts about his country. In an attempt to calm himself, he went for a walk, but even after returning to his dorm, the loneliness and anxiety persisted.
He started talking to Jacob, the dorm receptionist, who revealed that he had served in the Polish army and had been shot in the leg. He showed Azad the wound, a stark reminder of the violence Azad feared was happening back home. When he returned to his room and tried to sleep, images of brutality filled his mind. Unable to rest, he got out of bed, took a shower, and began to pray, asking God to protect his family and friends. It was an emotional moment for him — alone in a foreign country, fearing the worst for his homeland.
For four days, the media reported fake news, and nobody knew the true situation in Bangladesh. Azad’s condition worsened. He gathered some Bangladeshi students in the city park to protest the situation back home. As he spoke into the microphone, his eyes filled with tears, and his mind was consumed with worry for the future.
After four days, the situation began to improve slightly. The internet was partially restored in Bangladesh, allowing some information to trickle through, but communication was still limited. When Azad finally managed to talk to his brother, he cried. The conversation was stilted, limited to single words due to the poor internet connection.
Even with the low-quality connection, disturbing videos surfaced on social media, showing students being shot. One video, in particular, haunted Azad — a student giving water to others, only to be shot dead fifteen minutes later. Another video showed a student named Abu Saied standing defiantly in front of a rifle before being gunned down. Yet another showed a student trying to help a friend who had been shot in the chest, only to be fired upon by the police. Even a middle school child hiding in a building wasn’t spared. These horrific scenes made Azad realize that his country was no longer safe, not just for students, but for anyone. The government had been in power for 15 years, and it was clear that Bangladesh had become an autocratic state, not a democratic one.
Azad felt lost and unsure of what to do. He wanted to support the protesting students but didn’t know how. So he began posting about the situation online and even gave an interview to the Polish media, trying to raise awareness and gather public support.
His efforts weren’t in vain. The protests grew stronger every day, with thousands, even millions, of people taking to the streets, demanding the government’s resignation. Azad anxiously awaited the good news — the news that the government had finally stepped down.
And then, it happened. The autocratic government resigned, and the students had won. It was a victory that meant everything to Azad, who had fought from a foreign land for the rights of his people. As he walked down the streets and saw some of his Bengali seniors, he hugged them tightly, shouting for freedom — “Shadhinata!”
