Is it Altaf or myself there?
He was in pain and despair as I was watching him live on television. He was half-buried in the Rana Plaza rubble and was hanging between the walls precariously to die another day! So awkward was his position that someone passing along might have comforted him with bricks to lean onto.
He was in extreme distress and was in acute pain, as one can imagine. He was constantly entreating whoever was passing him by. He was relentless in his pleading, and was appealing to the media crew to bring forth the rescuers to salvage him from the wreckage.
He must not die like this! It was of utmost importance that he lived as he was the sole bread-earner of his family. He was groaning in pain and muttering …'aamar bou aar aamar dui bachchar aami chara ei duniyay aar keu nai …. amare please bachan!'…. Even in such dire straits all he could think about was the aftermath as to what would happen to his family if he failed to survive!
I was gripped by emotion at seeing this, so much so that I realised suddenly a similitude between the man on the screen and on myself. I am also working in a garment factory. Like him I also have a loving wife and two kids to feed.
I desperately prayed with all my heart that this ill-fated man be rescued.
I spent a sleepless night. The next morning I saw him on the front page of The Daily Star. Altaf was his name. He was still hanging on, it read. The very next morning my hopes were shattered into pieces. The esteemed daily ran a small column on him.
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