The wearing of the hijab reflects the modern Muslim woman’s independence, her new world attitude in which she has a choice in whether she follows this old tradition or not. Her hijab displays her confidence to live life on her own terms and communicates the message that she is respected, intelligent and pious person in her culture. She is also purposefully not drawing attention to herself vis-à-vis the male population in certain Muslim country such as Bangladesh.

Beside religious value, this piece of folded head scarf can tell much about a woman. So, what does your hijab say about you? The colour, the style, the adornments, if any, all refelcts the individual. There could be strips or flowers that represent the softness, the brightness. These choices allow a woman to express who she is. The hijab sends clear signals about a Muslim woman and her personality. The increasing trend of wearing stylish hijabs or head scarves among young females in Bangladesh is not all about fashion nor has it been imposed upon them by Muslim parents or family. I have interviewed a hundred of young Bangladeshi women and have compiled their opinions in order to know what has most inspired them to wear the hijab.

‘My hijab is my protection from all those evil eyes around me. The hijab is a message to wicked men that they no longer can stare at me rudely when I am on the road.’ – Juthi, student

‘As a NGO worker I have to travel a lot on public transport and sometimes I come home late at night. My hijab is my protection. It’s been 6-7 years that I have been covering myself as I had bitter experience of street harassment. Men used to look at me and other women as if they were raping us through their eyes. As a woman I felt vulnerable and weak even though I used to wear modest clothes. But I have to confess that from the day I started wearing a hijab, men started to look at me less. I felt strong inside.’ – Siuly, NGO worker

‘I am a housewife. I feel very good after I wear a hijab. Even when I look at girls who wear hijab seems very respectable to me. It is one kind of self-protection and my aim is to follow footsteps of pious Muslim women’ – Jesmin, housewife

I study in class five. My mother tells me that my hijab will protect me. Also in the Islamic religion women have to cover their bodies’ – Jinnat Jahan (12)

‘It’s been two months since I started wearing a hijab. I feel encouraged by so many girls nowadays wearing hijabs. Two out of five girls are wearing hijabs. For me it brings peace as my family often remains tense when I am out of the home. The hijab is my protection from all evil looks.’ – Kasfia

‘In Islam it’s mandatory for women to cover their bodies with veils. Islam gives women a respectful place in society. Since childhood I have been wearing a hijab. It has impacted my life as it is not only about folding a cloth and covering the body but it also encourages a woman to stand up and move with dignity. Because from the heart I know I am not only covering my body but also not letting men look at me badly. I believe it gives women respect.’ – Jinath Rehana Sheuli

‘As a student I have to travel every day from home to university. After wearing a hijab for two years I face less evil teasing and it has given me a sense of good feeling that I am maintaining my life in the light of Islam.’ – Laboni

‘I started wearing a hijab religiously. No one has asked me to do it but I feel I should do it and it brings me respect.’ – Liza

‘You can look stylish as a modern Muslim woman when you wear a hijab. It gives me protection and also makes a woman look very beautiful in a hijab.’ – Mumu, a student

‘Some girls wear hijabs in order to get a good marriage proposal or they just to do it to be in style. But for me it has come from inside. When I did not wear a hijab I experienced men who looked at women as if they were a product on the road and could eye them over any way they wanted. I have seen ill-meaning men’s expressions while on the road. But since the day I started wearing a hijab I have never faced such vulgar looks any longer. My hijab is my safety and self-respect.’

– Muna, school teacher

‘Dhaka is a very busy city though a few women travel by bus . Whenever I went outside I faced the problem that men used to look at me badly. I started feeling very angry and did not know what to do. My friend started wearing a hijab couple of months ago and advised me to also wear a hijab. After wearing a hijab I am mentally satisfied that at least I am not showing my body to people. If they still try to see me, it is their ill behavior.’ – Lima

I am in the last semester of my MBA. I have been wearing a hijab for six years now. It wasn’t for any reason of fashion nor for conservatism. Islam encourages women to wear decent clothes and commands them to cover their heads and bodies when they go out in public. I easily can move around as I feel safe in a hijab.’ – Nahid Haque

‘As a student I have to come out of my home every day. It is very difficult to manage time to get ready. When I am wearing a hijab it help me to get ready easily. Also my family does not have to worry about me much as girls who wear hijabs face less teasing in the street.’ – Tania

‘Many girls are wearing hijabs for fashion. But this should not be. A hjijab is to protect you from evil eyes. The girls who are very open and show their bare skin in public are seeking attention from men. But a hijabi girl is beautiful because she realizes her inner beauty more than her outer beauty.’ – Tajnuva

‘A girl can wear a hijab and still be beautiful. It gives us protection and respect.’ – Sharmin

‘From my teenage years I have been wearing a hijab. It is part of being beautiful. In some universities in Dhaka a full veil is not allowed, so I choose a hijab. It is comfortable and always protective.’ – Sania Sultana, a student

‘I am a teacher and have been wearing a hijab for three years. I do not support girls who are doing it for style or who use it as fashion. It has remained as a protector for women for hundreds of years. Women feel comfortable and it brings security for a decent girl who does not want to show bare skin. Some people argue a woman should not wear a hijab as it makes them look weak, but I completely disagree. It takes courage in a world of style where women tend to wear short clothes. Its dignified Muslim women who cover up their bodies and go searching for respect rather than seeking attention.’ – Simul, teacher

‘I believe in modesty. It’s been three years since I have been wearing a hijab. For me it is a self-defense as it has protected me from evil eyes. I am a Muslim and a married working woman. Since the day, I started wearing a hijab I noticed that men in the streets were not bothering me insistently. It has given me a sense of dignity and I started seeing respect in people’s eyes for me. When I cannot stop evil eyes at least I can cover up myself and follow the advice that my religion gives me.’ – Subarna Parvin (28 years old), teacher

‘I have been wearing a hijab for more than eight years. My mother, grandmothers all wore hijabs or veils. It is not about style or fashion. It is mandatory for a Muslim woman to wear a hijab.’ – Tajlima Akter

‘Muslim women can be stylish like Western girls. For that there is no need to show skin. I feel a hijab makes a girl more beautiful. Not only does it protect the dignity of the girl, but it also it protects hair and skin.’ – Papia

‘Everyday more girls are wearing hijabs. It’s a protection from sunlight and pollution. By wearing a hijab I am covering my hair and wearing decent clothes. I feel very much protected since the day I started wearing a hijab.’ – Pihu

Rozina counts every day for six months running. Her family starts working long before the sun rises even when her small kids are remaining in the deepest sleep. She feels bad about calling them for work but like every day she cruelly has to do it. Everyone comes to have breakfast when the rice is still in the process of cooking. She rapidly waves her hand and lets the fire rise. During this time she quietly thinks about their time in the village that is far far away from this isolated brick field. She recalls her abandoned home and acutely feels a need to see the village sooner. But her urge quickly vanishes when she also remembers those days of starvation. Jalil sleeps in the bed that is made by gathering brick after brick. Rozina tried to hide those bricks by a flowery bed cover. Razina and Jalil have been married for ten years. Along with their five-year daughter and six year old son her family comes to work in this brick filed for six months in every year. 

The houses that have been built by brick field owners are home to 100 brick field workers’ families. Just like Rozina they are living in hope of returning to their village one day. No one decorates their house. If a family buys any new item it goes into a box and it remain there until they get a final call to go back to their real home in the village. Rozina’s red bangles, her daughter’s new shoes, boy’ toy; everything goes into the trunk. She also keeps some precious things of her mother-in-law who dies last year from tuberculosis. Everyone says her mother-in-law died because she worked in the brick filed. Rozina does not believe it. Once the whole family strived for three days and no one died that time. Death is written by fate. This brick field is a way for them to survive; a way to feed themselves and their children.

The sound of songs awakens the brick field locality. The brick field workers start working. They are used to listening to songs from their mobile phones. The rhythm of the songs motivates them to work. Rahmat Miah has been working in brick field for seventeen years. The day he started understanding life he found himself in the brick field. During childhood he used to help his father for transferring bricks or lining the piles. Till today he does not do any work other than working in brick field. After carrying 5000 bricks he can manage to earn 200 taka for doing the bazaar shopping for his family. Sometimes he could save a little amount after cutting all costs. But his body does not help him much. Every month he has to take leave for 4-5 days because of illness then he has to spend out of that precious savings for food or medicine.

Men, women and children everyone remains busy in the brick field. Sometimes when the sun goes up in the overhead a few older men or women fall to the ground. Then they get an hour break. They have to carry or shift or line up 5000-10000 bricks every day. However they loudly chat in a half an hour break. They smoke and talk about the economy and the politics. Women generally rest in silence and sometimes go to their quarters to do quick house chores. Children work continuously. It seems that working is some kind of important game. Small Minara who is just four years old collects coal from the brick field. Why does she collect coal? After a long silence she replies boldly, ‘This is my job’.

During the one hour lunch break they eat a lot. Three plates of rice and lentil is their daily lunch menu. Men who are living with their families eat with them; those who came alone to the brick field eat in groups of men. A few go to take a quick nap. This is a kind of moment when they will not speak or hear a single word. All are tired, very very tired. Life goes on; work starts again after break.

Smoke and ashes blow everywhere. Workers’ bodies turn black in smoke and ashes and their feet turn black like coal. Still they continue to work in a dreamless brick field. In the middle of this Rozina dreams to go back to her village. Rahmat tries hard to save a few pennies, the children continue to collect coal. Very Far from the town the workers of the brick field continue to work to build our urban world.

Filed under: Human Stories Tagged: Bangladesh Photography, Bangladeshi colour photographer GMB Akash, Bangladeshi photographer, Bangladeshi photographer's blog, Brick field workers, Brick filed, Capitalism, child labour, construction site, economy, enviornment, industrialization, laborers, Portrait, poverty, south asia, urbanization

Shaheen (10 years old) does not feel badly anymore to walk with empty feet. Five months ago when he first started walking without sandals, broken pieces of glass and small sheets of tin oftentimes cut his feet. Sometimes when he would hop onto a running train to save himself from the station inspector, the damaged surface of the train’s step would injure his bare feet which caused him much suffering for some nights. In pain, he could not work for a few days. Nowadays, Shaheen thinks dirt layer surfaces for his feet are actually saving him from injuries.

Abu Saleh (11)

Ali Noor (10)

Ali Raj (12)

Arman (10)

Badshah (9)

When Shaheen’s mother was alive she used to put oil on his hands, legs and hair. Shaheen knew his mother well and if she could see him now, she would do it again. She had never beaten him ever. But after her death when the new mother arrived, she and his father used to beat him every night. Often he had to spend the night in the yard in front of the closed door of his father’s house. One morning last summer, Shaheen left his village and took the train which was coming to Dhaka. He no longer misses his past except for his mother.

Shaheen (10)

Bappi (11)

Emon Ali (12)

Hasib

Now he carries the goods of passengers in the train station in bare feet. Even if he wishes to buy a pair of sandals, how will he manage money? And if he does manage to buy them, how will he safeguard them? Yesterday his friend Ismail’s new sandals were stolen and Ismail cried for the whole day. He had bought them with 150 taka by saving two days of income. Ismail now collects empty plastic bottles to sell in the recycle shop and has not spoken to anyone since he lost his sandals.

Hasib

Ibrahim

Ibrahim ii

Like Shaheen and Ismail, Shakil, Jahangir, Baii, Imon Ali, Arman, Emon, Fahim, hundreds of children are moving around in the train station in bare feet. All of them are living in the same condition. Some came here a few months ago and some came years ago.

Alamin (8)

Tonni (9)

Every one of them has two similarities. One is that they all walk the whole day in bare feet in order to earn bread and the other is the tragedy of their lives. Most of them left home because of the loss of their parents, or torture by their step parents, or because of acute poverty.

Jahangir (13)

With those small bare feet they used to run away by escaping the eyes of the station master or station police. When the trains arrive or passengers come, they run swiftly over the hot stoned train tracks and take a load on their heads. If they get 10 taka (one cent) they buy nuts for lunch and if they can earn more, they can have rice and lentils. This 7-12 year-old children’s feet are telling the tales of their fate: evidence that tells how they are bearing their lonely young lives on those innocent feet.

Oil Noor (7)

 A question to humanity from a 11 year old Maruf:

‘No one cares for us. I cut my feet by broken piece of tin. It bleeds for days but no one stops and asks to help me. Like me hundreds of children are walking in bare feet and no one ever asks us if they can give a pair of slipper. Isn’t this a selfish world with cold hearted people.’

Maruf

Can we together prove him wrong? Can you donate slippers for these street children and show them that we care about their suffering, their bare feet matters to us? Can we?

I am going to gift slippers to these street children on 7th January, 2016. If you want to donate for slippers please email at akashimages@gmail.com (NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT MY PAYPAL ACCOUNT) to receive information of paypal or other transaction. you can donate slippers (size 33 – size 40) at our address; those who live outside Bangladesh can as well donate money by paypal and those who are living in Bangladesh but can’t find time to buy and courier slippers can donate by BKASH. To know details you can also message me at facebook (facebook.com/gmbakash/). Please mention your name when making the donation as I will be sharing the list of donors in the next blog post by sharing images of the event.

Lastly I hope my favorite quote will inspire you as much as it inspires me:

I am only one, but I am still one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. And because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

Sami Hamja

You are loved! <3

That is the note every child received. In five straight days I had reached more than 500 impoverished Bangladeshi children and gifted one goodie bag each that consisted of an item of new clothes, a pair of slippers and chocolate. Then together we headed for the group lunch. The children grinned from ear to ear, laughed and screamed in joy and burst out in happiness. All this happened due to a ‘three day campaign in my Facebook fan page’. I would like to thank every friend who has donated HAPPINESS to these children. Thanks for sharing your world with these children. During five days from morning to noon I had unforgettable moments with street children, child labourers and unprivileged rural children. My friends, in this video I am sharing a glimpse of that joyous experience which which many of you have created along me. I am welcoming you to have a look at what have you brought to these children!

Click in this Link to watch the video: Video of Many Miles Many Smiles

‘Is this mine?’ Salauddin uttered with surprise. ‘Are these all for us?’ with the same surprise, Ratan, Sojib and Yusuf asked. I nodded with a smile and before I could answer, Sojib run up and called out every child’s name they are living with. To my surprise within half an hour about a hundred of children encircled me with a thousand questions. I handed every child one goodie bag that consisted of a new pair of slippers, new clothes item and chocolate. Their sparkling eyes, bright smiles and warm words made the evening unforgettable. Among them a few were not smiling and seemed confused. I patted them on their backs and asked what happened and then questioned them if they weren’t happy with the new things. With hesitation they asked me if I could provide them with some food to eat as they had not eaten anything since yesterday. That moment I decided besides giving them one goodie bag I will also treat them in a good restaurant and make their day fulfilled. When I declared they can have their lunch in a restaurant their happiness exceeded its limit.

There are hundreds of boys and girls who work as child labourers with their parents who work in the brick fields. While Munni was wearing her new given dress, she shared with me, ‘I hadn’t gotten any dress or shoes for last Eid. Today is my Eid day.’ While wearing their clothes and slippers they continued to laugh, showing their new things to each other and continued to giggle as they saw me waving and leaving them.

The hardest part was to buy different clothes and slippers for different age groups. I would like to give special thanks to my students and companions Tutul, Disary and Proshanto for their generous time and effort. By this post I would like to thank each of you who have helped me with time, labour and generosity for this mission.

The scenarios in the factories weren’t different. The child labourer formed a queue voluntarily and continued to surprise me by their gratefulness. I could not imagine a small goodie bag could give so much happiness. When they opened their gifts each of them smiled instantly. Even in the rural village where  our ‘First Light School’ has its junior students, those who belong to extremely poor families burst out in joy while receiving their gifts. All of them gathered, lined up and shouted ‘Thank you!’

My friends, see what we have done together with a small three day campaign. Your generosity filled hundreds of innocent souls with the greatest gift of ‘Happiness’. Thank you! Thank you for showing them that there are people in the world who have a heart to love and give.

With you
I feel like, I am wearing perfume in the middle of the desert.
With you
I am like, a nomad having a nameless home.

Ten Love stories shared from the series Heroes of Life; these are real love life experiences of the people portrayed here.

Featured first on my Facebook page:  GMB Akash

‘I got married at the age of twelve. My husband was twice my age. I cried the whole night by sitting on my wedding bed. He was embarrassed. He shyly said he would allow me to do whatever I wanted to do. He kept his promise. He brought me dolls to play with. But my in-laws did not like my freedom. They asked him to send me back to my parents. When their torture became intolerable, by holding my hands he left his parent’s house. Here, we built our heaven fifty years ago. I played with dolls and then with my five children. By fishing he earned a living for us. Every corner of our hut was built by him. I used to sit beside him, singing songs and he continued to repair our broken bamboo walls. One night he left me alone, he died in his sleep with a slight smile on his face. Our house was his existence for me. I used to touch the fence,the wall and could feel him there. During Aila, the flood washed away my hut. Now there is no sign of my home. Still I come here to find a sign of my existence, try to find him in my lost home’ – Saira Begum

‘She was four years older than me. She was black but more beautiful than a fairy. However, I had never paid attention to her face because her heart was so overwhelmingly beautiful to cherish. I have never seen someone caring like her in my life. If any woman of the village got sick she had to be there. In our village women hardly went to the hospital. Besides being a midwife, she used to always stay with all pregnant women. But in our conservative village, most of the people talked badly about her. No one was ready to marry her. I had fallen for this crazy girl from my childhood. One day I found the courage to tell it to my mother. Surprisingly, my mother fought with everyone to make Hasna her daughter-in-law. We knew that no one would attend our wedding but to our surprise the day we got married more than 100 women from different villages came to wish us well. I never knew she had provided education to all these women also. My wife died three years ago. We have no children. For me, her love was enough. After her death, I donated our only piece of land for establishing a girl’s school. I know she must be smiling from heaven.’ – Rohmot Miah

‘I was thirteen when we got married. I had never seen him before our marriage. When we first met, we were sitting like strangers, who had no idea what actually we could talk about. We hadn’t spoken a word even on our wedding day. I had never thought the man sitting beside me would slowly become the most important reason behind my life. There were days when my in-laws pushed him, asking him to remarry as I could not conceive after five years of our marriage. One day out of frustration, I packed all my belongings and wanted to silently go away from his life. That day, he cried to me, begged me not to leave him. That was the first day of my life when I first realized how lucky I am. It’s been sixty years that we have been with each other. We have always been just by ourselves. There are days when he cannot manage to bring anything from the bazaar, poverty has been always a part of our life. Both of us often fall sick. We are seeing each other grow old and slowly moving towards death. But we never felt alone, never felt our life was incomplete and in need of a child. During the rainy season, he goes fishing and I wait for him to come back. Sometimes, he tells me how much he is afraid of leaving me alone while he has to go fishing at night. Even today, we have no food in our home. And I have no idea when he can bring something for us. But right now, we are enjoying this winter sun, talking with each other about our old days. We know well, very soon one or both of us will die, and there will be no one to cry for us.’ – Saleha Begum

‘I loved Surma before I knew how it felt to be in love. Her black skin was as beautiful as diamonds; even more beautiful was the depth of her black eyes. My uncle arranged our marriage suddenly while her village doctor father was on his death bed. Her father touched my hands and said, ‘Surma’s mother died when she was born. I was never able to give her the love she needed. I have failed as a father. Promise me, you will never fail as her husband.’ I promised him.

It was raining heavily, I was riding in my boat while my newlywed wife was sitting in the center of my boat with her world. There were her three kittens, one dog, five chickens and a goat. When we arrived at our house, my mother came out to perform some rituals to receive us. After looking at Surma and her belongings she fainted. With hesitation, on our wedding night when I asked her to send back all her animals she attacked me and with her hands she was beating on my chest like I was a drum. Before I understood anything my twelve year-old wife ran away into the jungle; all her animals fled with her. I spent my wedding night searching for my wife and her animals.

When we got married I had nothing, Surma changed every corner of my rundown hut. She was able to repair everything except my mother’s heart. One day I came from work and found her tied up with rope along with her cats, dogs and goats. I rushed to release everyone; she stopped me and said, ‘It’s my punishment. Do not disrespect amma and do not ask her any questions.’ I looked at my mother and she looked away. I was sure, Surma would be able to melt my mother’s heart. But it was too late. After ten years we had no children. One night Surma took my hand over her head and asked me to remarry. I could not control myself and slapped her. She attacked me and again disappeared into the jungle. I went to my mother and told her no one can force me to remarry while I still have life.

It was our ten-year anniversary of marriage. Again a monsoon. That day Surma was very calm and quiet. By looking at her smiling face, I reassured her, I will be only with her for the rest of my life and I could adopt all her animals as the father. She smiled through her deep black eyes. In the evening when I returned she was lying dead in my yard. Villagers had brought her from the river where they found her floating.

Sixty years has been passed. I am still alone, living with only my memories and animals. When my mother was dying she asked for my forgiveness. I couldn’t do it. My love will never forgive them: not my mother, not my Surma. I am still the man who sees those deep black eyes every night. Sometimes I go into the jungle and search for Surma, I want to bring her back to my life again. But she has gone far away; without knowing how much I loved her.’ – Abdul goni

‘My wife has a habit of snoring during her sleep. At night, only she sleeps. I stay awake and listen to her music. When she falls asleep she starts her tempo taxi. It goes up and down and then up again. This room is very humid and we do not have any fan. The window we have is the only source of ventilation. At night, I keep the window and the door wide open for some time so that air can enter into our room. The problem is, when Arju falls asleep, our neighbor starts yelling. She will shout and tell me, ‘Stop the earthquake or we will kick you both out of this slum.’ On this issue, I have had enough fighting with all our neighbors. Oftentimes I looked at her, wanted to wake her up but when I saw her sleeping so peacefully after a long working day, I just could not do it. At the end, I shut the door tightly and also the only window. I can sleep in humidity, with loud music, but I could never stop my tempo and ruin her peaceful sleep.’ – Textile worker Arju’s husband Liton

‘Sometimes I go to visit my ex-wife. I really do not have anyone else to go to. She does not allow me to stay more than a few minutes. Everyone says she is a very bad woman but I know how her circumstances were. I cannot blame her so easily. I was not able to buy her a saree for years. She had starved days after days with me. I heard her crying every night. We lost our only child because I didn’t have money for the treatment….

Now maybe she is happy. ..When I last visited her, she gave me sweets to eat. Now she keeps sweets in her new room since I visited her. Maybe she does not forget how much I love sweets… Life would have been so very different if I could have fed us and saved our child…

I can never hate her for leaving me or for choosing to be a prostitute. I was never able to curse her. For everyone she is a whore but for me she is still my Moina.’

– Komesh Mia (45)

‘I have not gone to work for two days. I have to stay with my wife. We do not have any mobile phone; what if she needs something? We live on an island; people have prejudices against going to the hospital. The boatman did not agree to take us at night when my wife was vomiting so much. Everyone including my parents tried to stop me from taking her to the hospital. But I could not sit silently when she was suffering that much. I navigated the boat at night alone and after facing great difficulty I admitted her into the hospital. This place was full of patients. The nurses told me to wait till they arranged a bed. But my wife was feeling very afraid; that’s why I was telling her one joke after another. I wanted to make her smile; when she smiles everything seems okay.’ – Tayeb Miah

‘I am a very sensitive guy and my wife is a spy. So, we fight more than we eat. Ask what I told her during a fight seven years ago, she will tell you in detail. Ask how she insulted me last night I cannot tell you a word. We have been married for seven years. I never spend a day without my family. Even when she cooks I sit beside her with our children. Yesterday all of us were very happy because we planned to go to watch a circus which was taking place near us. Then suddenly she told me how much she likes the new girl who had started working a few days ago. I said yes, that she is a very innocent girl. She asked, ‘really’? I nodded. And then we had a terrible fight. She stopped talking to me. I asked her a thousand times what I had done. She called over my daughter and asked her to tell me that I did nothing. After going to work she was ignoring me and started working on a different side. I cannot take it. I hate this spying but I cannot live without her nonsense.’

– Morshed & Moriyum

‘I saw her first at a village fair. She was eating sweets. I fell in love instantly. I fell in love when I was seventeen. My father was a farmer, so am I. She was the only girl from the respectable Mia Bari. I could not say anything to her as she belongs to a rich family. But I continued to follow her everywhere secretly and silently. In three years I did not say a word to her. Then a very good marriage proposal came for her and I knew that I had to watch her royal marriage helplessly. On the night of her engagement I cried my heart out sitting in my boat on the riverside near my house. Suddenly I saw someone running towards the boat and before I understood anything, she started rowing the boat. Even in my dreams, I never imagined something like that could happen in my life. The first thing she said to me was, ‘Stupid, you are very stupid.’ It’s been forty years she is calling me stupid every day. I am very happy to be stupid.’ – Makbul Mia ( 60)

A drop of your love got mixed in my cup

I could drink the bitters of life.

Incredible Humans are extraordinarily beautiful. And the most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

Welcome to my blog to meet 10 incredible humans : ten workers of all time who were previously featured on my Facebook page:  GMB Akash

Undoubtedly their views on life will fill us with awe and leave us in wonder. Let’s have some inspiration to celebrate May Day.

‘We do everything a man does, our working hours are same. But when I went to take my wage the manager gave me 50 taka less than my male coworker. I asked what my mistake was. He shouted on me and said, ‘You did more work than him. But you don’t wear shirt. You are a woman. You will get always less.’ The next day I came to work by wearing a shirt. All the men laughed at me. I ignored them and asked the manager to pay me equal as I wore a shirt after listening to him. I clearly saw he was hesitating and was afraid of my bravery. But again he said, ‘He will pay all women equal if all of us could wear shirts.’ He gave me a smile like a fox. I lost hope, knowing no one will wear a shirt. The next day when I arrived at the field all women were wearing their husband’s shirt on the top of their saree. I never could imagine the manager would be this much afraid of seeing us together. He paid all women equal to men for the first time during his ten years in the brick field’s history. From that day girls call me, ‘Hero’. I don’t mind!’ – Taslima

‘I lost my mother when I was very young. I always tried to please my stepmother. I do not know but why she never tolerated my shadow. She had beaten me a lot. I used to stand silently the times she was beating me, I could not cry, as she told me that if I cried she would throw me out from the house. After tolerating all these, one day she finally threw me from my home. I cried loudly all night by standing in front of the closed door, but not even my father came out to take me back. I came to Dhaka from Chadpur. I used to roam around all the streets and sometimes ate from dustbins. Then one day I got this job, a job as a sweeper. But the sad thing is, everyone hates us, no one talks to us. Today I am very happy, brother, nobody ever took my photo, no one ever wanted to know if I have something to share. When you tell my story to people please tell them not to hate us. If we stop cleaning, you will die. We are servant, we go into your rubbish and by becoming dirty we cleanse you.  Please do not look at us with hatred’

– Md. Rabbi (18)

‘One day madam bought a girl of nine years old. Her stepmother sold her to a brothel and then spread the news that she had been lost. The stepmother was satisfied to get rid of a stepdaughter for a life time and 3000 taka was just a bonus of selling a human being. My madam gave the little girl to me to prepare for clients. She was a doll, her pink chubby cheeks and big brown eyes melted my heart. When she cried and cuddled me at night I felt like that baby was made of milk. I went through forced abortions two times; for me Putul was my lost fetus. I bought her a doll to play with. After seven days she was able to speak, her first question was, ‘will that madam cut my hands and send me for begging’? I closed my eyes and whispered, ‘they will do much worse than anyone’s imagination’. Madam was impatient and gave me one week to teach her all the tricks of the business. And I planned something else by putting my life at risk. The day before they fixed a client for Putul, I communicated with one of my old admirers to talk to an organization who was working with orphans. I knew they would kill me if they found me while or after transporting the girl to the orphanage. But that time I did not care about my life. I was able to get her free from this hell. She left her toy doll for me as her memory. I know there must be thousands of such hells waiting for the girl but at least I was able to save her from the biggest one. Please pray for my baby; may she get all the happiness and love in her life; may her chubby cheeks always gets rosy from laughter.’

– Purnima, a sex worker

‘I am trying hard to love the job I am doing. But it seems impossible to be happy with my work life. I am giving my one hundred percent. Not a single day do I arrive late at work nor ever overlook any of my mistakes. My job is to help passengers on the train. After giving my best, so many times people have misbehaved with me. It really hurts. People behave miserably to such an extent that I lose control over myself but I never utter a single negative word against passengers. After returning home, many nights I tried to understand why everyday people are becoming aggressive; why educated-socialized people are uttering ugly words against someone they do not even know. Maybe now-a-days we all are going through so much stress and anxiety; who knows? But behaving well to people is not only my job responsibility, it’s my moral value. I only earn 5000 taka monthly; it’s very difficult to run a family with the amount of money I am receiving. But that does not mean I will only perform according to my salary scale; I want to perform my best.’ – Pappu (22)

‘I was very happy when I got a job as receptionist. I only went up to class eight so I was surprised when I got the job while I actually went for a peon post. I belong to a poor family and I have little brothers. My mother was very happy by the kindness of my boss. How lucky was I to get a respectable job with my little education! Things were okay at the beginning. But then I started feeling what only a woman can feel with her inborn senses Many things happened and I could not drop my job and tried to adjust as much as I could. One day when I was showing the appointment list to my boss he touched my hand and asked if I had I heard about Sunny Leone. He would be happy to watch a film of hers with me. I just said, ‘no’ and ran from his room. I cried my heart out while returning home. But I decided to speak up. The next day during lunch sir’s wife came with lunch. I entered inside the boss’s room and with a brief greeting boldly said, ‘Mam, do you know Sunny Leone? Sir wants to watch a movie of hers with me.’ I could never forget their faces. That was my slap to the most educated man. I am very happy with my textile job, I am a worker, but I have dignity, which I will never compromise for money and a reputed post.’

– Nilu, Textile worker

‘I am not living with my husband and in-laws anymore. I was fed up living with a drug addict, who sold everything I had: my saree, sandals, even the bucket of the bathroom. My in-laws kept taunting me as they believed I was the one who could change him but I failed. I realized it would be very late if I did not leave him at that point. But I loved him entirely. It was not easy for me to leave my husband and start a life with my only child. My brothers shut their door in my face. My grandmother was the only one who gave me shelter and helped me to find work. What more could I accept from a ninety-year old woman? She did not turn off her love while the rest of the world kept blaming me by saying what an awful woman I am who broke up her own marriage. But I know my suffering, my fights, my fears and my limits. No one else felt what I had gone through. Yesterday, my child cried all day as I cannot breastfeed her in the work place, publicly. I know well how men gave nasty looks; women pass bitter comments and breastfeeding becomes a sin for working women. But today, when my daughter started crying, I said to myself, if I can go against the society for the betterment of my child, then I can breastfeed her too. There should be a stop to this limitation and I am no longer afraid of what society says about me.’

– Jesmin (28)

My wife died when my daughter was 40 days old. My daughter was my reason to live. I never thought to remarry. When she was a child I used to take her with me to work. Everyone used to laugh at me. I had not much money to send her to school. But at night I took her with me to the elderly school. Together we learned to read and write. When she turned fifteen a good marriage proposal came from a far away village. We are very poor. I could not give her anything. She took my writing book with her as my memory. I did not have money to visit her nor did her husband let her come to meet me. When she became pregnant I went to see her. She held my hand and said if she dies I had to take her child with me. I scolded her for her childish behaviour. She requested me to spend a night there, but her in-laws did not let me so I came back. My daughter died during her delivery. Her daughter is one year old. I take care of her.‘ – Abu Mia (65)

My mother flew with me when my father wanted to make me disabled after my birth, so that he could use me for begging. I do not know, what my mother actually does; she sleeps the whole day and works at night when I sleep. We live in the street. Our neighbours and the police call me the ‘whore’s daughter’. Mom told me not to reply to them as bad people always talk bad. I am a flower seller. I sell flowers; I do not beg. But people have no time to look at flowers. I pop into the windows of big cars and see beautiful children with their parents. Sometimes I wonder, didn’t their dad want to sell their organs or want to make them disabled for begging? One day a rich mom bought all of my flowers for her girl but when the girl wanted to give me the money, her mom said not to touch me, I might have a disease. The baby girl threw the money in the air and I caught it. That day made me the best flower seller among all.’ – Lutfa

‘I started working as a labourer a year ago. Including me only ten females are working at this site. The constructor does not like to employ women. There are fifty men working besides us. They always get break time to drink tea or smoke cigarettes. But we, the female group never get any break. For almost a year the strongest man of our group is making fun of us every day. Sometimes he says, he can carry more buckets of stones than the women, even when he sleeps. The contractor laughed loudly at his jokes. And sometimes after transporting all buckets of stones he showed us his muscle and the men laughed at us. A week ago I asked our contractor to give us at least half an hour break. He mocked me, pointed to the macho man and openly declared, he will give women equal break time, if I or any other woman can beat the man the next day. I looked at our women’s group and they were looking at the ground. On my way back home, my little girl was warning me never to challenge a man. I asked her why, then my five-year-old girl fearfully showed me her muscle and told me, ‘We don’t have this.’ The next day, when I came to work I told them I was ready to take the challenge. When I started carrying the stone buckets beside our macho man, everyone stopped working and started clapping. It turned into some kind of game. I had no idea how time had passed. When the contractor asked me to stop I looked at the man beside me. He was lying on the ground, already very much exhausted. Then I saw, I transported fifty more buckets than him. When every woman was screaming in joy, I looked at my girl, she jumped into my chest. I did not say a word. I had to prove to my little girl that, women too have muscle but they do not like to show it.’ – Aklima

“I found out my daughter had an affair with a boy for five years. She never spoke about it as she is always afraid of me. Apart from that I assumed my children always hated me for the job I have been doing since my childhood. I asked her to bring the boy and his family to our house. I decorated the house like a new bride and brought the best food for them. I have been saving for my daughter’s marriage for twenty years. That day my daughter was the happiest ever. When they started the conversation they brought out a note of demand. They wanted all material things a family needs, I was calculating and nodded in agreement with every word they said. After all it’s about the happiness of my daughter. The last point was that they did not want me to be introduced in front of their relatives and I should never go to visit my daughter. The moment they said it my daughter screamed in anger and by surprising all she slapped the boy. She angrily said, ‘My father can do the thing that no one can do. Not everyone can clean others’ messes. I am proud of what he does and if you do not leave my house in one minute I will beat you all.’ She broke the marriage proposal and ended her five-year relationship in one second. From that day I knew what a fortunate and happy person I am.’ – Sweeper Monu lal

‘Heroes of Life’ – are those incredible humans who always find their way to light and love. They had known defeats, sufferings, struggles yet they possess a beautiful story in their hearts, which is worthy to share with the world.

Kawser Hossain, Shamsuddin Miah and Rani’s stories touched everyone’s heart. They were featured first in GMB Akash facebook page and become an inspiration for thousands of people all over the world. This video is about how we have helped three of them so they can give a good fight with their lives and remains as unbroken as they were. Thanks everyone for giving them love, respect and support.

You tube Video: ‘Heroes of Life’ Video interview

https://www.facebook.com/gmbakash/

Yesterday, I was able to buy a new dress for my daughter after two years. While I handed sixty pieces of five taka note to the seller, he yelled at me by asking if I am a beggar. My daughter held my hand and cried to leave the shop by saying that she did not want to buy any dress. I wept off her tears with one hand. Yes, I am a beggar. Ten years ago I had never thought in my nightmares that I have to live by begging from people. The night coach fell from the bridge and unbelievably I was alive. I was alive by becoming a disable. My youngest son often ask me where had I left my other hand. And my daughter Sumaiya feed me every day by saying she knows how difficult it is to do all work with one hand.

After two years my daughter is wearing a new dress, that’s why today I brought her with me to play for some time. May be I will not be able to earn anything today, but I wanted to roam around with my little girl. I secretly borrowed this mobile phone from my neighbor without informing my wife. My daughter has no picture and I want to make this day memorable for her. When one day I will have a phone I will take a lot of pictures of my children. I want to keep good memories. It’s very difficult to send my children to school, but I am educating them all. Sometimes they cannot attend exam because giving exam fees is not always possible by me. On those days they feel very sad then I tell them, sometimes we can miss exams because the biggest exam is life which we are giving every day.

Now I will go for begging. I will place my daughter in a signal where she will wait for me. I will look at her from distant while begging. I feel shame while she looks at me when I lend my one hand to others. But she never leaves me alone. Because there are big cars, she thinks accident can happen again, these cars could run on me and I would die. Whenever I managed to get some money I return to home by holding my daughter’s hand. We do bazaar on our way and my daughter always carry that bag. During rain we love to get wet and talk about our dreams. In someday I do not get any money, on those days we return to home silently. On those days I feel like to die but at night when my children fall in sleep by holding me I feel being alive is not a bad thing. Only bad is when my daughter waits for me in the signal by keeping her head down. When I cannot look at her eye while begging. But today is different. Because today my daughter is very happy. Today this father is not a beggar. Today this father is a king and here is his princess.

– MD. Kawsar Hossain

This father and daughter received love from all around the world. It takes almost one month for me to find out him. After several meetings with the family, Kawser wanted to have a source of income. He wanted to do vegetable business in rickshaw van. He also wanted to educate his daughter and he never want to beg in his life.

I promised Kawser to gift a van rickshaw and settle his vegetable business. He has received vegetable business and a rickshaw van. His children received scholarship for one year. I long a few generous friends contributed for this cause. ‘This Heroes of life’ – are extraordinary human beings. Sumaiya and his father Kawser is already making differences in their life.

‘We can help someone with the minimum we have. Someone’s nothing can be someone’s everything’   

Remember the elderly couple?’ For everyone they are ‘The Baghban couple’!

https://www.facebook.com/gmbakash/

Last year we fled together. We never thought we could do that. I knew that our children may stop communicating with us. But I and my wife are living forty seven years together. Every day after sunrise she wakes up me first and together we do our prayers. Forty seven years we never had spent a day without each other. Seeing my wife’s face was the first thing happen to me every day. We struggled together with our six children. In the past, often times I was able to manage one time food for my family, I and my wife starved whole day after feeding our children. She never complained, never told me that I was failed as a husband. After so much suffering we never left each other’s side, never fought one single day, and never lost faith on each other. When my elder son took me and the youngest daughter took their mother, we did not realize that they decided to take us separately. Our children earn little and they have their expenses. After fulfilling their children’s need our need was burden to them. We knew everything but it was impossible for us to accept that we cannot be together anymore. I shamelessly asked my elder son and he was very surprised. He informed me that none of them are capable of taking care both of us.

I tried to adjust. But every morning when I wake up I wanted to see her smile. I spent my whole day by waiting for my son’s arrival so I could talk to her with the phone he had. But he arrived late night when on the other side my daughter usually went to sleep. The day when I was able to hear her voice none of us could speak a word. I heard how hard she tried to keep clam her tearful voice and I murmured stupid things. I never thought life can become so meaningless without each other. Every day I felt to run to my daughter’s house which was far away from mine. Then one day by gaining some courage I told her that I wanted to run together. By surprising me, she asked me to go right away. I took my walking stick and never looked back. We run away together with empty hand.

Now I sell children’s toy. I hardly can manage 100 taka every day and after I return to home I found food on our bed. Our children arrived once to see us last year; they told us how we failed them, how humiliated they felt for our behavior. We did not say anything. We do not want to hurt them. They decided to never come again. Sometimes we feel bad for our children, we miss them. But we know we are running out of time. I am fifteen years older than my wife. Any day I may die in the road while selling children’s toy. So I keep saving some money in a mud bank, I do not want my wife to beg to people to finish my last work. But every day my wife cries a lot during her prayer, whenever I ask her why she is crying so much, she would always say, ‘I want to die with you’.

– Samsuddin Miah (77) with her wife Rekha Begum (62)

For Shamsuddin Chacha, it’s very hard to walk miles after miles by carrying toys in his back. After all his hard work the little money he earns goes for his cancer patient wife’s medicine. After daily struggle of managing food and medicine, every day they find their way in their wrecked one bed room house. I along my facebook page GMB Akash friends comes forward to help him. ‘After receiving the rickshaw van and shoe business we are very happy. We pray to God so we can move forward with this work. I cannot thank enough everyone who has helped us. We are feeling like today is an Eid day’ – Shamsuddin Miah

Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal …

https://www.facebook.com/gmbakash/

He was about to throw my one month old boy. I was holding his leg and he was kicking me constantly. There were scars in every parts of my body. With blade, knife and needle. Sometimes by holding my legs he pulled me out in such a speed that it was very difficult to keep my clothes on my body. My daughter had run behind me by taking one of her scarf to cover the naked parts of my body. She used to scream, ‘Please, help my mother.’ But no one came to help us. He had beaten me on the road. Someday my girl counted the scars of my body and often told me that she lost those unlimited counts. My husband was a heroin addict. After selling everything I had, we were the only things for him to sell. I used to keep poison with me all the time. My daughter knew that it was poison. Whenever we were hurt, by holding and crying to me she asked, ‘When will we have the poison, maa?’ I asked her, ‘Why?’ By weeping her eyes off she replied, ‘It’s very painful to live.’ Then that night arrived when I decided to end all our pains. We were counting hours for our death. My one month old son was smiling in his dream. I could not put poison on his mouth. I held both of them with my chest and ran away, ran away before anyone could sell us or kill us. At that midnight no one asked us what had happened, where were we going? Whenever I was slowing my daughter was crying and telling me, ‘Run Maa, run.’ When the sun was rising, we heard the sound of azaan and crows were flying all over above our heads. I asked myself, ‘Where should I go?’ I wanted to give a chance to me and my children, by breathing in free air, by having some courage to dream. Without knowing where to go, whom to knock. I do not know what we will eat tomorrow. My daughter is struggling every single day to feed us. I am incapable of walking straight. Every night I heard my daughter crying secretly, whenever I touch her head to calm her down she often whisper, ‘Everything will be okay, very soon.’ I nod and say ‘Yes’ to her. Knowing very well nothing will change, light will never enter in our lives, we will never be able to smile. Not everyone knows how it feels to be happy in life.

– Rani (33)

Rani wanted to change her life. To help her we settled her with a rickshaw van and spice business.

Everyone can help someone. Everyday can be a different day. Thanks for becoming a part of this change making journey by giving your warm words, by offering your gift and making everyone believe that humanity exist

–         GMB Akash

A mother’s womb is the place where life and love begin. In her heart we never grow up. No one smells like her and she remains the same even after hundred years. And when she dies she leaves a part of her soul for us; wherever we go her existence follows us. A mother’s heart can travel any time and any distance. There is an invisible chord between us which our mothers continue to nourish forever. This blog post is a Tribute to all mothers. This is for honoring the most irreplaceable person of our life. No one knows the alchemy of mother, she remains the one, no one can take her place.

Sharing Ten heart wrenching real life stories of Mothers, featured first on this Facebook page.  GMB Akash

Like everyone you are also thinking that I am a beggar. But I never begged for a single day of my life. But strangely every day after I wake up I found money beside my head. I stopped wondering at generosity of strangers. There are many street children who love to stay nearby me. Because they had seen me giving away my money to other beggars. I never gave money to children, but always bought ice cream for them. My grandson loved ice cream a lot. My secret savings was for his ice cream. The day I was coming to the city with my son for my eye treatment, my grandson hugged me and was not letting me to come. He was telling me I won’t be able to come back, I was laughing on him as he always spoke about strange things. Then I told him to always remember, at the end, everything will be okay. I was sitting on the bench of the train station for almost two days. I waited for my son to arrive with a rickshaw, he told me not to move no matter what happened. The street boy who was selling water repeatedly told me, he saw my son leaving by the next train, he had heard him telling someone that he already got rid of a sick old woman. I did not trust him. I could not trust a street kid more than my son. I was not able to see clearly but as much as I could I was looking forward for his arrival, my ears were alert to hear his voice. I terribly wanted to go back to his house and give my grandson a hug. The street kid stayed with me for all the time, told me his father also left him in that station, assured me, he knew how I was feeling. No, no one can fell what I was feeling. I lost terribly in life many, many times. From the day I arrived to this strange city I never asked anyone to help. But I am asking you. Can you replace my heart? It’s been bleeding all the time without any sign of blood. I am having a terrible pain inside my chest, a feeling of pain that someone has crushed me with this world’s weight. I need peace, rest and love. But in this world there are people like me who may never get any of this. And that’s okay. Because at the end, everything ends.

– Jahanara Begum

My life had always been different. There were some cold nights when my step mother punished me by keeping me outside our home. She wanted me to leave my father. But I couldn’t. I stood all nights outside their door and cried. Their door, liked their hearts, always remained closed. I was deprived of my father’s love and later on, of his property. After marrying me off, they directly asked me to never visit them again. To confirm that decision, my father gave all his property to my step brothers before my father died. I accepted and never questioned my father. You can’t fight to get love, it has to come on it’s own.

I lost my mother during my birth. I learned how to survive cruelty, as the world’s most unfortunate is the one who loses his mother during birth. I was also unfortunate to never know how it felt to be loved. When my husband shut his door on my face as well, I not surprised. I had been losing the battle since my life’s day one. And that day when my husband threw me away, I did not know what was about to come. I had no idea that a life was growing inside me. When I knew about my child, it was too late and I did not want to go to that house where I was beaten by everyone for the crimes I never did. Surprisingly, when I started living on street, I was happier. I slept hungry in my father’s house and as well as my husband’s many nights, but I never went to sleep hungry when I lived on my own in the streets. There was always someone who shared their food with me. There were beggars who gave me food, and laborer who gave me clothes. I was not alone among the strangers but I was so lonely among my very own family.

When my son was about to be born, I started having the fear of death. But we both survived. I passed hours looking at his face and often pinched myself it make sure it wasn’t just a dream. I have never felt such joy in my thirsty years of life. Though there was no one beside my child, I could never say his father’s name, no one cared for him without me, but together, we found happiness in our fragility. I continued to fight for our happiness.

A few days ago, when I had to bring him to this hospital, the doctor told me they will try their best to save my son, but I should prepare for the worst and stay strong.That moment I refused to be strong. I refused to be strong anymore. I refused to let go of my life. I spent the whole night on my knees. praying to God with every word I know, with all the belief I had. For how much longer would God keep putting so much of weight on my chest? When would he understand how hard it was for me? I refused to take any more pain. I do not know how I passed that night . After sun rise, a nurse arrived and asked me to visit my child. I rushed to him. And discovered that God had answered my prayer; he had given back me my life. I won’t let him go anywhere.

– Mayeeda

No one ever loved me. When my mother left me, in shock I could not able to talk for a year. It was not her crime. But I wanted to sleep in her lap for at least one night, but I could not. My father never bought a hair lace for me. I could not remember if anyone loved me for a while. No one kept their hand in my head to give me courage. One day I lost myself. My aunt willingly left me in a ferry station, knowing I would never make it home. I was so afraid and cold. Just felt like the day when my mother left me alone. A girl, ten years old in an unknown, strange world, where there is no love, empathy. Since then years had passed, I did everything to survive. People used me in so many purposes. I wanted to die but surprisingly found out dying is harder than living, I could not throw myself in river water, I kept loving and hating me all at once. When I first felt my daughter’s movement, I was hungry, there was nothing to eat. There is no bigger pain than hunger; my tiny girl could not sleep inside my womb because we were hungry, hungry for food and love. The day when she was born there was no one beside me, when she grabbed my fingers; I felt for the first time – someone arrived to love me, whom I will never let go.

– Reshma

‘One day madam bought a girl of nine years old. Her stepmother sold her to a brothel and then spread the news that she had been lost. The stepmother was satisfied to get rid of a stepdaughter for a life time and 3000 taka was just a bonus of selling a human being. My madam gave the little girl to me to prepare for clients. She was a doll, her pink chubby cheeks and big brown eyes melted my heart. When she cried and cuddled me at night I felt like that baby was made of milk. I went through forced abortions two times; for me Putul was my lost fetus. I bought her a doll to play with. After seven days she was able to speak, her first question was, ‘will that madam cut my hands and send me for begging’? I closed my eyes and whispered, ‘they will do much worse than anyone’s imagination’. Madam was impatient and gave me one week to teach her all the tricks of the business. And I planned something else by putting my life at risk. The day before they fixed a client for Putul, I communicated with one of my old admirers to talk to an organization who was working with orphans. I knew they would kill me if they found me while or after transporting the girl to the orphanage. But that time I did not care about my life. I was able to get her free from this hell. She left her toy doll for me as her memory. I know there must be thousands of such hells waiting for the girl but at least I was able to save her from the biggest one. Please pray for my baby; may she get all the happiness and love in her life; may her chubby cheeks always gets rosy from laughter.’

– Purnima, a sex worker

I used to think with every passing year I might forget every scar I have. But that did not happen. Even by passing time I tend to remember all tiny memories deeply. I had a past that shattered my present and future. My parents married me off when I was nine years old. Before I knew what is the rule of a husband I was married. My first daughter was born when I was ten. By the time, my husband and in-laws had sent back me and my daughter to my home as my parents were unable to pay them dowry. To me, my daughter was nothing just a lively doll to play. And again before I could play with my doll enough they snatched her and married me off with my current husband. My mother sent off my daughter to a far flung location that still now I have no idea who have adopted her and where she might be. My bitter life started and my current husband continued to question me about my past for the rest of my life. I gave birth to three sons and by the time they know about my past all were adult and educated. They rejected me and continued to insult me with their father. At the age of eighty five I urge to be with my lost daughter. She is just ten years younger than me but when I recall her I can only remember some tiny fingers holding me tight, I get a smell something like cinnamon, I see those big eyes wondering at me. I keep living in my past; I am still a ten years old mother.

– Tahora Khattun (85)

I never called my mother ‘maa’. Calling her maa was prohibited. My mother gave birth to me secretly. I heard that my father never returned to take her back. No one knew where he went. On the day of my mother’s wedding she held me in her chest she cried a lot. I was five years old and never allowed to call my mother ‘Maa’. Her sandalwood smell enchanted me for long. I told her, ‘Aunty your smell is amazing.’ Like everyone, my new father knew I was the daughter of her late sister. He pointed at me and told my grandmother, I should never visit their village. My grandma laughed and snatched me from my mother saying I would never visit them. When my mother was leaving I was locked inside our kitchen but my heart was running behind her. I was crying and saying, ‘Aunty, come back.’ Calling Maa was forbidden.

My grandfather planted a coconut tree when my grandma conceived my mother. That tree was same age as my mother. She taught me to call that tree ‘Maa’. For twenty years I called that tree ‘Maa’. I never went to see her and she never arrived to see me. Sometimes I secretly embraced the tree and whispered how much I missed my mother. It was very difficult to sleep at night; I wanted to have her smell. Without that sandalwood smell it was impossible to fall asleep. Most night I cried and cried bu did not utter the word ‘Maa’.

My mother sent all my expenses but I was raised alone. On my wedding day, with everything my mother also sent me her wedding saree, the saree that my father gave her on their wedding. She was not allowed to attend my wedding. But I did not miss her, I was wearing her wedding saree which had her sandalwood smell. I had no idea if she missed me or not. No idea if she ever wanted to tell me anything. After my mother’s death they wanted to take me to see her for last time. I did not attend her funeral. Even now to me my mother is an eighteen years old beautiful girl, whose long hair and big eyes are enough to fall in love, who smells like sandalwood. Whenever I close my eyes, I see those big eyes, filled with an ocean of tears. In my dreams I tell her not to worry, I tell her how happy I am without her. Only sometimes I wanted to scream and call her ‘Maa’, ‘Maa come back’.

– Suraiya

I did not want to kill him. I wanted him to be in my life. I knew that if anyone could find it out, they would kill him. But I was able to hide him for many months. Then sometimes in morning when I went to sleep I asked myself why to punish someone by bringing into my life which has no hope, no tomorrow. But he was the only one with whom I talk like a child without being afraid, without being someone else. He also responded in my stomach like a butterfly by assuring that he will never leave me.

The day my madam found out I was pregnant; she wanted to kill my child. She was trying to kick me and I held her legs. I screamed, begged her to give me a chance to live. I did not leave her feet for how long I cannot say; then she stopped pushing me and asked me why I wanted to bring lifetime suffering. She left without hurting me anymore.

Then the time arrived. During delivery I had eclampsia and severe blood loss. Through the entire time I did not stop talking to my child, I whispered to him that we had to make the journey. Till then we survived many miracles. He was then three months old, his only favorite thing was bird. But we were caged; I was not able to show him any bird. We had no room and I had to go back to attend clients. With every passing day, I was afraid that one day my boy will hate me most. But whenever I looked at him he always smiled by assuring that all I had is him.

He was three months twenty days old when I handover him to a childless couple. They were crying after holding my baby. I looked from distant; felt he was in the right hands. My madam requested me to keep Murad, told me that I won’t survive without him. But my mother heart felt Murad will be happy with them than me. When they were leaving, the woman came to me, put a packet of money in my bag and said they will keep his name Murad, they will not change it. I said nothing. Then the man came closer to show me Murad for the last time. Told me that when he will grow older they will bring him back to me and if he wants to be with me, they won’t stop him. I looked at my child, he smiled to me like always. I said, ‘Never tell him, his mother was a prostitute. Never let him to search me. He should never know he was born in a cage. I want him to be a bird, to fly in the sky, if you can, helps him to do that.’ I returned their packet and was able to come back to the brothel without looking back; I do not want my child to smile at a prostitute.

 – Momota

I turned eighteen last month. I am a single mother, living alone with my only daughter. The day my husband left us I had to spend that night in train station. Because we had no place to go. My father asked me not to bother him and my step mother by any means. I did not want to disturb anyone. My struggle was not only about money or food; it was mainly saving my respect. When I was sitting in train station, wondering where I would go next morning, many men came near to me and whispered to my ears. I went freeze by holding my daughter close to my chest.

Imagine you are six years old. Left alone on the street. Your ragged clothes are all you have with you. You are bare foot and empty hand. You have no idea what to eat and where to sleep. You roam around at places for couple of hours. Whenever you are trying to go close to people they are yelling at you. And then you are hungry and have no idea how to get some food or a glass of water.  You remain hungry and thirsty all day long and there is no place to rest or seat. And finally night arrives when you meet people like you, who are waiting to sleep nearby closed shops and counters. You are trying to sleep but you shiver in fever. There is no one to hold you other than the newly met street dog who is the only family you have now. Welcome to street!

Sharing Ten real life stories of ‘Angels on Street’, featured first on my Facebook page.  GMB Akash

I did not get anything to eat yesterday. I slept hungry. But now I am feeling lucky to get this rotten bread. My shoes, cloth and food everything comes from this dump yard. Aren’t you asking me about the odor? I was born in this place, someone left me here after my birth, smell of this place make me feel like a home. This is my home and these dogs, birds are my family.

– Abu (10)

One day my father did not return home from work. We searched him everywhere. We went to hospital, spent days by knocking at police station but we found out nothing. I had two younger brothers who had no idea what was happening. After a year of his disappearance everyone started telling that he flew with another woman.  My mother was changing and treating us worse in every passing day. Once she locked me in the toilet and punished me for hours knowing well how much I was afraid of darkness. Then one morning, I wake up and saw she is gone. She as well escaped with someone. I was eleven years old and did not have enough time to find out anything as my brothers were crying all the time. We passed two days without food or any help. After begging to everyone, villagers sat in a meeting with my uncles, aunts and grandparents. My grandparents accepted my two brothers and decided to send me to work as a housemaid in Dhaka. A girl is a burden that is what my relatives told to everyone. On my way to Dhaka, I discovered the woman who was accompanying me was telling my price to someone on the phone. I had no idea who was selling me to whom but I knew I need to escape. I took an enormous brick and hit on her head, she was bleeding heavily but I did not look back. This world is a bad place but I have already learned to survive – Nargis (13)

I have nobody. I live alone. Sometimes I go to play with children of this neighborhood. They do not take me to participate in their game. They laugh at me because I have no idea where my parents live. They mocked me by making my parents name. I do not mind. Humiliation is a part of my life. That’s why now-a-days, all the time I play alone. You will not feel bad anymore when you will learn how to enjoy alone. That’s how I stopped looking for friends. I am happy and can move freely now. By the way, I call myself bird, isn’t this a good name?
– Pakhi (10)

My mother was a prostitute. I was born in a brothel. I never saw her happy but she smiled every single time I looked at her. Everyone at our place was unhappy because my mother gave birth to a boy. My mother was different. She never allowed me to go near her. I wanted to sleep in her lap; I wanted to get her kisses. But she never let me to touch her. Sometimes I wanted to hate her badly. Some days when I woke up, I saw her torturing herself by scratching her hands, feet with sharp blades. I wiped her blood, I wiped her face, but she never cried. She always smiled to me. One day I asked her where my father lived, my prostitute mother pointed at her heart. I tried to hate her with all my heart. Every day, everyone called me a bastard. It was same in the slum where me and my mother arrived after fled from brothel to start a new life. No one gave work to my mother, no one talked to us. Often times people threw stones in the roof of our plastic hut. The day my mother died, she was very clam. For the first time she kissed me on my cheeks. Told me that, she is thankful to me for choosing her as a mother, for giving her love that she never received in her life. My mother left me alone. She cannot come to me. But I can go to her.

– Shadhin (13)

I was very afraid of dogs. Now it’s been one month I cannot sleep, if dogs do not sleep around me. Often times, I cry during sleep. When my friend Jewel shakes my shoulder, I usually stop crying. In the first day, when I arrived in Sadarghat, street boys had beaten up me a lot. They said it is needed to make street boys strong. But I am not at all strong. I cry in simple things. But people around me do not have time to notice my crying and that I feel relieved for that. I cried a lot, when my mother got married after death of my father. When I was following the groom’s group, she called me and said, if I try to follow her, she will throw me in the river. My grandparents also refused me to take inside their home. Now-a-days I do not feel that much bad, my mother was very poor, so how she could take care of me! When we street boys try to sleep at night, we talked about our dreams. One day I will have a house, where I will have a bed. That time if I want, I can eat hot rice by cooking in the kitchen, I do not have to save money for taking shower, and there will be a bathroom in my house. My friend Jewel, request me to give him a place inside my house. I said, if he stop telling lie, I will think about it – Israfil (8)

My step mother was like a rose. After my father got married with my mother, I used to be with her all the time. She could tell all kind of funny jokes; she made various kinds of pickles for me. When everyone used to say, my mother is a witch, I burst into tears and fought with them. I used to love my mother a lot. Even I loved my brother who came with my new mother. I used to play with him and shared all my things. One day we got to know a little brother will come soon into our life. I was so happy, so was my family. Mother one day told me, she wanted to go to ride the boat in river, and wanted me to be with her.  She told me not to share this with my father, as he never would let me to go to river, because I am afraid of water. Without telling anything to anyone, I went with my mother and her cousin for a boat ride. That was a beautiful afternoon. When the boat went in the middle of river, my mother asked me to pick a floating wild flower for her. While I bend my head to pick the flower, I was pushed into the river. Before I understood anything I was drowning in the middle of the river. While screaming for help I saw their boat went very far from me. I do not know how much distance I passed while a fisherman boat saved me. With the fisherman, I got into a launch. I did not try to find out my lost home. That one push took my childhood and I become mature. I did many kind of works to survive. Now I help the van owner while he carries sacks. Many years had passed but still I am having the nightmare that I am drowning in the river and everyone is laughing.

– Manik (12)

I have to work with a lot of attention. This is not easy to find usable stuff from garbage. Sometimes after whole day I found one thing to sell in the recycle shop. And in a good day I can find biscuits. Not ordinary biscuits, the one which has cream. That’s my favorite. Some days I find biscuits which tastes very sour but my dog like to have that, so I give him without eating those. And in a very bad day, I cut my feet. I think people do not know that children work in the garbage on bare foot. They throw away broken glasses which often scratch our feet. Sometimes it bleeds heavily. It hurts a lot. I and my dog have had many scars in our legs. That’s why now a days I am keeping clothes with me. If it bleeds I tie and continue to work.

– Jesmine (7)

My name is Rasel and I do not know who gave me this name. I am an orphan. I am living in street for four years. When I arrived in Dhaka I was injured and hungry, but no one cared about street people. I cried so many days because I wanted someone to care for me or talk to me with a smile. But people have no time for love. So, I started loving everyone. I share my food and take care of my street friends. Meet with my new friend, Kutum, it means guest, and she is my guest. I cured her injury with my love and now taking care of her. I will look after her, as long as she will not leave me. But I will never leave Kutum. I know how it feels to be alone and being unloved.

My mother flew with me when my father wanted to make me disable, after my birth, so that he could use me, for begging. I do not know what my mother actually does; she sleeps whole day and works at night when I sleep. We live in street, our neighbors and police calls me ‘whore’s daughter’, mom told me not to reply them, as bad people always talk bad. I am a flower seller, I sell flowers, I do not beg. But people have no time to look at flowers. I pop into the window of big cars and see beautiful children, with their parents. Sometimes I wonder, didn’t their dad want to sell their organ or want to make them disable for begging! One day a rich mom buy all my flowers for her girl but when the girl wanted to give me money, she said not to touch me, I might have disease. The baby girl threw the money in the air and I caught that. The day made me the best flower seller among all – Lutfa

My problem is I am a fool and I cannot tell a lie. A few days ago a beggar hired me to act as her blind child. We supposed to roam around the city’s signal and beg for food. At the end of the day she promised me to give fifty taka and food. I rehearsal well and she was convinced that I acted marvelous. And then we started our mission. For an hour it was going good, but then we went near to a car window and a lady with her child was giving me some money. I saw the boy was playing with a car. The lady seemed generous so instead of taking the money I told her, ‘Madam, I am a blind child, I have no toys, can you please give your son’s red car?’ After a few minutes the car driver was chasing behind me and I was running with my life by leaving my fake beggar mother behind.

– Polash (10)

You can be part of making some of them smile, you can also tell them they are loved, you can give them some hope for a day or life time. Last year I organized three events for more than 2000 unprivileged children of streets, dump yard, brick field and child labourer. This year I want to reach more and want you as well to be part of this happiness. You can send clothes, slippers, toys, dry food for these children. Email me at akashimages@gmail.com to contribute for a smile. I will send you detail how you can become someone’s light.

To check my last year’s event with unprivileged children: 

Many Miles Many Smiles

Today is Our Holiday

Eid Love

Be the reason someone smiles, someone feels loved and believes in the goodness of humanity. Life is a beautiful journey between Human Being and Being Human. Let’s take at least one step each day to cover the distance.

Sharing ten real life stories of humanity

featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

I had never seen any love or care for us in anyone’s eyes. When I work people give me a feeling that I came out from Hell.  We cannot sit anywhere to have a cup of tea. People look at us like they look at dirt. There were days when I hid my tears after being insulted by strangers for no reason.  I was sure there was no love left in this world for poor.

Ten years ago, I was working beside a children school. My job was to clean the drain and repair the site. We blocked the road and it was taking a few days. So the children had to walk to their school. I attentively did my work every day without noticing anyone who could again insult my job. One day a little girl arrived, smile widely at me and said, ‘Why are you so dirty?’ Before I could say anything, her father dragged her away by saying, she should never talk to strangers. I felt horrible, imagined he must be telling her daughter how disgusting workers like me were. And then for a week, she came to me every time with same question, why was I so dirty. I never got chance to speak as her father was always there to drag her away. I could not sleep those nights by thinking about a beautiful reply, ‘why I am dirty’. Poor cannot be clean all the time, we are born in dirt, raise in dirt and die in dirt and no one care when a dirty thing left the world. I could not say any of this to her. I wanted to quickly finish the job and never wanted to see the girl ever again.

At last day when we were finishing the work, it was Ramadan afternoon. I was very tired and down. The school was close and the baby girl did not arrive. I felt relieved, packed everything and was about to leave, suddenly I saw the little girl coming to me by running. She could not breathe properly when she arrived. I was waiting to hear the same question, but she did not say anything except smiling. Then I asked her, where her father is. She showed me a car standing far from us. I waited to hear the same thing. And then she opened her mouth, ‘Uncle, do you like red color?’ By bringing a packet behind from her she handed it in my hand. Her father gave horn and she quickly said, ‘I cannot clean drain, but I can help you to be clean. This shirt is for you, Uncle.’ I could not say a word and she rushed when her father gave repetitive horns. The girl left me on tears. She proved me, human still cares for human. I do not know where she is now, what she might be doing. I pray to God everyday, wherever that little angle is, may God clean all dirt from her life.

–  Shohrab

I am very thankful to Allah. I have a home to sleep, food to eat, children to love. There are homeless people who are living nearby this train station and suffer from cold at night, beg for food in afternoon, have no one to look after. When I see them I stop complaining to Allah about the little problems I have. Though I live in this vulnerable house, eat rice and lentil in lunch or dinner, suffer from illness but I am grateful to Almighty for all the blessings he has given me.

But I have never done anything for anyone. Poverty made me unable to do something for the people who are less fortunate than me. This thought give me pain all the time, I often think, what I will take with me when I will die.

Also, I do not know, if I can manage to live another winter or not. People of my age badly suffer this time. No one notice us. When you are old and poor, you suffer silently, because there will be no one to hear your pain, no one will come to you to give you warmth. In this crucial season, some of us gather together beside fire every morning, all of us are waiting for our death. Because, every winter one of us is dying. Last year, Safura died in pneumonia. We do not know who will leave us this year.

Life is not easy for me. I have never had any new cloth, but that is okay, there are many people of my age who even do not expect what I have. A few days ago for the first time in my life, I received a winter Shawl. I was not able to open and wear it for days. I keep looking at it and when I decided to wear it, I saw Mariyum, my ninety years old neighbor, who do not even have a proper saree. I have gifted my shawl to her. I badly want her to survive this winter. If my shawl can keep her warm for some time than it will be the best reward of my life. And what about me? I can manage with this old shawl….and when I feel too cold I do prayers, you believe it or not, when I pray I feel warm. – Morsheda Begum

Every Friday almost for seven years I along my grandma continue to go places and I asked people, ‘Do you know me?’ Some days I felt tired and asked her to return. But she always held me, kissed my forehead and asked me to ask same question to more people. Most of the days we only have green chili to have with rice. My grandma is a beggar, she has severe knee pain. She made a wooden stroller for her and sometimes I push her all the way while begging.  She continually told me I need to find my parents, I feel horrible when she tells me one day she will find my parents, and then she will give me back to them. But she has no idea how much I enjoy cuddling her and I know no one than her. But she is always reminding me that I have a family somewhere.

I was lost at the age of three. My grandma found me at roadside, crying alone in the middle of strangers. No one was able to tell her who was I and except her everyone left me alone on the road. She took me to the local mosque and waited there with me for a week. I had no memory of these things only the mosque I am familiar where she forces me to go every Friday along her. My grandma nicely kept my cloths which I was wearing when I was lost. I continue to walk miles with her and asking people if they know me.

She sent me to school but I hated the place where everyone asked me about my lost parents and how I feel being raised by a beggar. There was a question in the book, ‘What does your father do?’ And I answered ‘I do not know’. My teacher punished me for writing that. Then I never go back to school again. I start working for my grandma, because I do not want her to beg with her knee pain. I do not like when people yelled at her by asking us to leave. While one day my grandma was feeding me I asked her if she can live without me. Then she started crying and replied she has no one in this world without me. After that I stopped asking the question, ‘Do you know me?’ I do not want anyone to know me, my grandmother is my everything and I only want her to know me well. – Abdullah

I cannot sleep at night because of the pain in my knees. I have to carry 1000 bricks every day and then I get 100 taka. I cannot rest at night because at this moment I am suffering from cold and fever. But I have to work for me and Munia. My husband brought his second wife Munia when my son was one year old. You will not understand how it feels to see your husband living in the same room with another woman. I hated her so much! Ten years ago in a bus accident my husband died and Munia lost her legs. Now for all these years I am taking care of Munia, whatever I earn I spend for both of us. Relatives tell me many times to throw away Munia from my home but I can’t. Like me she has no one to go. My only son never comes to see me. I know very well how it feels to be abandoned – Lijiya (50)

When I arrived from my village I was seven years old. To get one piece of bread I turned into a dog. Whenever I looked into the sky I felt my world was moving very fast, everything was dizzy all around me. I looked into the dustbin; saw how people were throwing food with filths. I wanted to run and snatch the leftover of the food from their hand; I imagined how good it would feel to have all those food. I wanted to say, ‘do not throw away’, ‘please give it to me’. But people were stranger to me; they looked at me like the way they looked at stray dog. I was hungry for two days and two nights. I drank very little water. Whenever I sipped water I felt to vomit. Water tasted bitter and I was day dreaming for some food. Then I went to the contractor told him I could transport five hundred bricks, he just had to give me some food. He looked at me and said, I was no use for him, because he could count bones of my body. Then what he saw in me I do not know. He gave me the first chance. That day when I had food I felt , nothing in this world has meaning without food. My contractor asked me what I wanted to do when I will grow up. I touched my plate and said, ‘When I will grow old, I will share my food’. It’s been twenty years every day I am feeding two hungry children, one at afternoon, and another during dinner. I have no idea from where these hungry children came to me. They also know they are only welcome for one time. After having food they will ask to write down in the name of Pagla Hasan. Many time I smiled to myself after realizing they do not often recognize I am the Hasan. They only know there is a Hasan who feed hungry children. I thank God every time when I touch my food. There is no greater pain than hunger. When these children eat beside me I see myself on them. I feel so content when they burp and smile after having a peaceful meal. People of this world have no idea how valuable two grains of rice is for a hungry stomach.

– Hasan

Billu was injured when I found him beside the train track. He was walking with pain and looking at me for help. I am from a very poor family. Even sometimes, my housemaid mother has to beg for rice so that she can equally feed her three daughters. Taking a cat as a pet does not suit beggars. I overlooked and tried to cross the road by ignoring him. When I looked back I saw him looking at me with despair. Then helplessly I went back and embraced him.

We, three sisters hid him from my mother’s eyes for three days. Then one morning, we wake up when amma was screaming in anger. Billu tried to sleep in her cozy blanket and when she screamed in surprise he peed on it. My mother straightly took him and headed for the rail line, three of us begged her not to throw Billu away, and she listened to no one. Whole day none of us ate anything….with surprise at night Billu returned to us secretly by himself. Next morning, my mother took him to a far far place. And informed us the cat could never able to find us again. But the genius again came back. And again my mother furiously took him with her and left him in a place that we never heard before. At night we were wide awake to welcome him at home, but he did not come back.

In the next day, we did not take any food or water, including my mother. During evening she rushed to search for Billu, by skipping her work. My mother found Billu injured in the same place she had left him, local people informed some boys had beaten up him for fun. My mother spends her one month salary on Billu and because of our care he is now fatty and naughty.  I asked amma, why she allowed him to be with us. She said, our father left us in an abandoned place and fled because he never wanted daughters. She could never do the same even with an animal. Billu is now our naughty brother, who eat most of our food and sleeps only with my mother. – Rojina

I am a care taker of a mosque. It was my mother’s wish that I should spend my life in the path of Allah. I accepted it after her death. I studied in village Maktab and took the responsibility of taking care of the mosque, I am serving now. I have met different kind of people last twenty years. Some are very pious, some are not, some tells lie all the time, some always speak the truth, some help poor from heart, some wants to show off. But I met with someone whose story I will never forgot. He used to arrive at mosque always first in the morning. I have never seen him to talk to anyone ever. He was not even from our area. Every day after prayer when everyone left the mosque he stayed there and spent hours there by crying alone. Many days I had Goosebumps and thought what made this man so sorrowful. Eventually I learnt that he is a very rich man who lives far away from our place. He established mosque, madrassa, school and old home. He has everything that a man can only dream for. After knowing this entire thing I became more interested to know the reason of his arrival in this particular mosque and what made him cry so much. One day when he was distributing clothes and foods among beggars and poor, with all my courage I questioned him. He was looking at me for some time and by surprising me, he said he will answer me next morning. I could not even sleep that night. When everyone left, he came and sat with me. Then I got to know what I did not imagine in my dream. The man was left outside this mosque when he was five to seven days old. When his father (who adopted him) came for his Fazaar Prayer he saw a dog was trying to open the tie of a folded cloth and started to push towards him. He went there and opened the cloth while he found the baby boy fighting with death and not responding. Without finishing his prayer he took the baby to a doctor while the Imam helped him all his way. The man who has no child adopted him afterward, and tried hard to find the baby boy’s actual parents. But there was no trace of his identity. They raised him perfectly; he is following Islam with all his heart. But since the day he knew about this truth, he was no more able to rest in peace. He wanted to know from where he had come from, who were his parents, why someone wanted to kill him and threw in the road, he was wrapped by a mustard color cloth which resembles that he might be not even a Muslim by birth. When he was talking me these I lost words how to console him, but I tried with my heart. I told him, ‘You are the best human being I have ever met. Know that Allah knows everything and whatever happened with you, there must be a reason for that. You should not spend a single day with this thought of sadness which is insulting your current parents love and Allah’s love for you. If you believe in their love, you will not hurt your heart anymore. Please do not come to this place ever again, which will not let you forget your past.’ He did not answer me and left. Since the day, he never come here again, I do not know if I did right or wrong, but I felt being human should be our first identity, and all I wanted was to ease his pain as another human. – Jainal Abedin (36)

The time I needed my family’s support, they left me alone. I was vulnerable and heartbroken. That time Potu’s mother gave me shelter. Despite our religious difference, differences of my cast and creed, she treated me as a family member. No one ever talked to me nicely but Potu’s mother was the one, who showered me love and respect. I celebrated Eid with her and she gifted me new clothes in my puja. I know how difficult it was for her to take me in their house after facing economic and social problems. But she often said Allah is the one to judge, not the people. She passed away while Potu was born. For me he is my blood grandson. I taught him everything her mother should teach him if she would be alive. Every morning I wake him up for his prayer. I will give him the love that I learned from his amazing mother. Now he is my world

– Al-Amin’s (potu) grandma        

No one has any concern. Even if somebody dies, even if the whole world gets destroy, no one really cares! What kinds of time we are all living in, human are no more human! Now people do not think anything else than themselves.  After one hour of continues try, alone I took control over the fire. To bring water I have to cross the bridge and fell so many times, but no one came to help to stop the fire. ‘The fire will not harm my house what if the whole area destroys’ that was the attitude of all viewers.  By neglecting our request factories, tanneries throw wastes here daily; they do not even care for school going children. Today may be someone’s cigarette created this fire and it might destroy the whole area. Even my neighbor stops me to come here, lightly advised, ‘why to danger own life for others’! What’s wrong with us? I am very tired; I am very depressed, I feel ashamed as human being to watch how hundreds of people get entertainment by watching me from far, without helping a bit’ – Sumon (27)

‘I lost many things in my life and by standing at the end of my life, now I can tell you, how I gained everything what I had lost. My husband died when during flood, a tree had fallen on him. I was standing just ten feet away from him in water. That night, I was seven months pregnant. After losing my husband, my house and everything I had, I felt to commit suicide. But I became mother after waiting for twelve years for a child. I had to survive for my child, so I came to city to search for work. After so many struggles I gave birth to my son, midwife told me, my son had problem and asked me to be prepared for his death. When he died after seven days, I had no one beside me and had no money. Even if you die you need money but no one came forward to help me. Only some orphan-street children gave me money, so I could do his last work. After buried him when I return to my hut, I didn’t cry. From that day, I no longer look behind what I had lost. Since the day, for thirty years, I had feed one orphan each day from my food. I lost my child but I kept giving the portion of his love to every miserable child I met on my way.

Last five years, I am suffering from tuberculosis and heart problems. Now all those orphan children grew up and taking care of me. I lost one child but now I have hundred’ – Maa Asha

Filed under: heroes of life, Human Stories Tagged: Bangladesh, being human, Bnagladeshi photojournlaist GMB Akash, daily post, GMB Akash blog, GMB Akash stories, Heores of Life by GMB Akash, human, humanity, Real Life stories, religion, south asia

Whether you fall or fail, whether you cry or sob, all you can look forward to is that your father believes in you. He picks you up, brushes you off, and lets you try again. Your father will always be your hero.

Sharing ten real life stories of ‘Father’

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

Yesterday, I was able to buy a new dress for my daughter after two years. While I handed sixty pieces of five taka note to the seller, he yelled at me by asking if I am a beggar. My daughter held my hand and cried to leave the shop by saying that she did not want to buy any dress. I wept off her tears with one hand. Yes, I am a beggar. Ten years ago I had never thought in my nightmares that I have to live by begging from people. The night coach fell from the bridge and unbelievably I was alive. I was alive by becoming a disable. My youngest son often ask me where had I left my other hand.  And my daughter Sumaiya feed me every day by saying she knows how difficult it is to do all work with one hand.

After two years my daughter is wearing a new dress, that’s why today I brought her with me to play for some time. May be I will not be able to earn anything today, but I wanted to roam around with my little girl. I secretly borrowed this mobile phone from my neighbor without informing my wife. My daughter has no picture and I want to make this day memorable for her. When one day I will have a phone I will take a lot of pictures of my children. I want to keep good memories. It’s very difficult to send my children to school, but I am educating them all. Sometimes they cannot attend exam because giving exam fees is not always possible by me. On those days they feel very sad then I tell them, sometimes we can miss exams because the biggest exam is life which we are giving every day.

Now I will go for begging. I will place my daughter in a signal where she will wait for me. I will look at her from distant while begging.  I feel shame while she looks at me when I lend my one hand to others. But she never leaves me alone. Because there are big cars, she thinks accident can happen again, these cars could run on me and I would die. Whenever I managed to get some money I return to home by holding my daughter’s hand. We do bazaar on our way and my daughter always carry that bag. During rain we love to get wet and talk about our dreams. In someday I do not get any money, on those days we return to home silently. On those days I feel like to die but at night when my children fall in sleep by holding me I feel being alive is not a bad thing. Only bad is when my daughter waits for me in the signal by keeping her head down. When I cannot look at her eye while begging. But today is different. Because today my daughter is very happy. Today this father is not a beggar. Today this father is a king and here is his princess.

– MD. Kawsar Hossain

I never told my children what my job was. I never wanted them to feel ashamed because of me. When my youngest daughter asked me what I did, I used to tell her hesitantly that I was a labourer. Before I went back home every day, I used to take bath in public toilets so they did not get any hint of the work I was doing. I wanted to send my daughters to school, to educate them. I wanted them to stand in front of people with dignity. I never wanted anyone to look down upon them like how everyone did to me. People always humiliated me. I invested every penny of my earnings for my daughters’ education. I never bought a new shirt, instead used the money for buying books for them. Respect, which is all I wanted them to earn for me. I was a cleaner. The day before the last date of my daughter’s college admission, I could not manage to get her admission fees. I could not work that day. I was sitting beside the rubbish, trying hard to hide my tears. All my coworkers were looking at me but no one came to speak to me. I had failed and felt heartbroken. I had no idea how to face my daughter who would ask me about the admission fees once I got back home. I am born poor. I believed nothing good can happen to a poor person. After work all the cleaners came to me, sat beside and asked if I considered them as brothers. Before I could answer, they handed me their one day’s income. When I tried to refuse everyone; they confronted by saying, ‘We will starve today if needed but our daughter has to go to college.’ I couldn’t reply them. That day I did not take a shower, I went back to my house like a cleaner. My daughter is going to finish her University very soon. Three of them do not let me go to work anymore. She has a part time job and three of them do tuition. But often she takes me to my working place. Feed all my coworkers along with me. They laugh and ask her why she feeds them so often. My daughter told them, ‘All of you starved for me that day so I can become what I am today, pray for me that I can feed you all, every day.’ Now a days I don’t feel like I am a poor man. Whoever has such children, how can he be poor!  – Idris

We always wanted a daughter. But we have three sons. I often told my wife only fortunate have daughter. I am working as a rickshaw puller for more than thirty years. Most of my passengers were bad tempered. They always scolded me. One morning a father hired me to take his daughter to the college. He requested me to be careful in the road. He told his daughter to hold the rickshaw tightly. Before we left he told me to go slowly so the girl may not get hurt. On our way after sometime I heard the girl was crying insanely. I tried to look back and wanted to ask her if everything was okay. She scolded me and warned me not to look back. After a while she asked me to stop and started calling someone by her phone. She was screaming and crying all the time. I understood she supposed to escape from home with a boy. He did not show up. Suddenly she jumped from the rickshaw, left the money in the seat and quickly went to the train line. I was about to leave, felt sorry for the father and thought it may be good not to have a daughter.  But I was not able to paddle further; I heard her father was requesting me to be careful. I parked my vehicle and ran for the girl. She was in the rail line, moving like a sick person to harm herself. I went near to her and requested her to go back with me. She yelled at me, called me uneducated stupid, in between she kept crying insanely. I was afraid to leave her in that empty place. I let her cry, as much as she wanted. Almost three hours we were there and rain was about to come. Before the rain starts she got up and asked me to bring the rickshaw. We did not talk about anything. In the rain I paddled quickly. I dropped her near her house. Before I left she stopped me and said, ‘Uncle, you should never come at my place again, never tell anyone you know me.’ I lowered my head and returned to home. That day I did not talk to anyone, I did not eat anything. I told myself it was better not to have a daughter. After more than eight years, very recently I had an accident. I was kind of senseless. Public took me to the hospital;. When I got back my sense I saw the girl was working near me, she asked me how I was feeling, why I never went to meet her.  It was hard for me to recognize the girl in white dress, in spectacle and stethoscope. My treatment went well. I was taken to a big doctor. I was listening to her telling him, ‘Sir, he is my father’. The old doctor told her something in English. Then she touched my injured hand and replied him, ‘If this father did not support me in the past, I won’t be able to become a doctor’. I was lying in a narrow bed and tightly shut my eyes. I cannot tell anyone how I felt. This rickshaw puller has a daughter, a doctor daughter.

– Bablu Shekh (55)

Six years ago my daughter ran away with a boy. Their married life was one month. After one month the boy disappeared. I found my daughter after three months. When I found her, she was living in the same slum room they rented and discovered something is very wrong with my child. She was abnormal and three months pregnant. I decided to stay at the house with her without forcing her to come with me. I slept in the floor and she slept in the bed. Every night she wake up and screamed by asking me to open the door as she felt the boy is knocking at the door. For every single time I opened the door and showed her there was no one.

After one year we returned to village with no mental improvement. She held her new born boy in her chest and never let anyone to take him, as she used to think the child may leave her as well. A year ago I got a marriage proposal for her. My son-in-law was a widow and had four little children. Everyone told me not to share anything about my daughter’s mental condition. I also realized I would never tell it to him including hiding about her son.

But when we were fixing the wedding date I was feeling like a criminal. The moment the groom was leaving I stopped him and took him to the river side. I opened my heart and started to tell what I had to say at our first meeting. He stopped me and said he knew everything. I was surprised and asked him how. He said the day he met my daughter she said everything and he really wanted to marry her. He left and I rushed to my daughter. I asked her what she said, she reluctantly told me, I said – ‘I am Nahar. I have mental problem. I scream at night to open door and ask to check if someone is knocking. Except this I am all okay. I also have a five years old son, whom I will take with me after we get married.’

My daughter is married for a year now, taking care of her five children wonderfully. This cow was their wedding gift which my son-in-law did not take with him. He told me to keep the cow for myself. No, my daughter is still sick. During my last visit when I asked my son-in-law what he do when Nahar screams. He said, ‘Every night I take her outside to show there is no one’. Tears were rolling all over my face when he assured me, Nahar will be okay. I also know my child will be cured. Because love is the best medicine which my daughter is receiving abundantly.

– Ali Noor

I grew up vulnerably, struggled like an animal because I was an orphan. I ate people’s left over and sometimes snatched food from animals. I had no home and no one ever touched my forehead to check my fever. I hated everyone, every face I met. I only survived for myself, and only cared about me because I was no one for anybody. I suffered for the lack of love more than food. And with time those emptiness went deeper and I stopped laughing, dreaming and hoping. Like a donkey I worked as a labouer in people’s field, at night slept with cattle. For everyone I was a labourer. Only our village doctor was different. He often forcefully took me to his home and asked her only daughter to feed me well. It was very irritating for me because I never ate inside a house; never sat in chair and table. No one ever fanned me while serving food. Doctor’s girl continually talked to me about useless things, about things I never knew exist in the world. Most of the time, I nicely asked her to go back to her study but she always giggled and continued her nonsense while feeding me. Whenever I looked at the girl, I felt if I ever had a daughter she would look exactly like her. She never let me to leave the house without having sweets after lunch. She would come far with me by holding an umbrella and always requested me to go again. Most often my eyes got wet for no reason and I ran away without replying her. The day I last saw her, she was lying in her bed, her skin turned pale, hair was short and eyes were puffy. For the first time, I talked to her first, asked her how she was feeling. Like every day she giggled and said, ‘I become rich uncle, I got a rich disease.’ Her father asked her to stop talking and within minutes she started vomiting blood. I escaped the place without saying her any word. At night I secretly met our doctor, handed him my sixty years savings, asked him to take our daughter any place where nothing will be able to take away her smile. It’s been three months they had gone, I heard she is improving. There is still fair chance of her survival. I have been waiting at this river side every day, with a hope of their arrival. I know my daughter will come back. She will again force me to eat more. She will laugh loudly and say, ‘Uncle, do you know you got a cold heart’.

– Rohmot Miah

I was a honey collector. I was never afraid of tiger or crocodile. And I had a beautiful daughter. My daughter could dance like a peacock. She was like a goddess of the forest. Before I could return from work she used to stand in the jungle and every day waited for me. She could win anyone’s heart with her childishness. But after the death of her mother, she could not talk since childhood. Being a poor father I was unable to take her for treatment. I still can remember her smile; with her smiles she could conquer all my sorrows. It was a rainy day of monsoon. I was coming to the home and expecting Pari on my way. But she was not there. After a twenty minutes search I found her. She was hanging from a tree, her clothes were torn apart. My child died before I arrived. I was screaming in anger, I was trying to kill everyone who appeared to console me. My child’s death still haunts me. Nowadays I spend all evening in the jungle as a guard so that no one ever lose any daughter again’ – Kashem

I earn very little from my job. I work in a factory. So, I could not save anything. I have to meet my children’s educational expenses and my old mother’s treatment. That time my elder son finished his college and admitted into the university. Then all the time he was very sad. After many questions his mother hesitantly informed me that he wanted a laptop. I became very angry and shouted by asking, does money grows in tree. But at night I could not sleep. All the time I felt like all other children will do good result because of a laptop and son will roam around in depression. How is it possible till I am alive! Between the time my son returned home at late night, when I asked him why he replied briefly that due to group assignment he had to go in friend’s house. My son did not look into my eyes. It started hurting me lot. I went to my boss and asked him to give me the night job. He exclaimed in doubt how I could manage both day and night shift. I assured him this will be only for four months. I had to walk one hour to go to work and only returned to home once for dinner. I did not share anything at home, just said them I am paying off my loan. After four months I went to my home with bundles of money in my pocket. I was happier than ever and keep thinking how I will explain to my son what a father can do. After entering at house I saw a cycle standing at our yard. Everyone came out after listening me. My old mother giggled and said, ‘Have a look, your son bought a cycle for you by his scholarship money.’ My son was standing in front of the door by looking at the ground. I wanted to take him in my arms and roam around the entire city again just like we did often when he was a child. But a father cannot express his heart so easily. Even if a father feels to cry, they cannot do it like mother’ – Razib’s Father

Tuni got married with my son when she was in a stage of playing with doll. Her widow mother could not provide food for Tuni and upon her request I agreed for the marriage. While Tuni’s mother handover her in my hand, she said, ‘From now, your father-in-law is your father.’ By opening her long veil little Tuni nodded to us. On our way back to home, Tuni fall down in the wet mud and started crying. To stop her crying I was holding her with my one hand and carried her mud toys in another hand. With time, my eight years old daughter-in-law turned eighteen years. My wife and daughters used to hate our daughter-in-law. Even my son never spoke to her nicely in all those years. In a poverty stricken family, I was too helpless to help Tuni. Sometimes when I heard my son to beat her, I rushed to her door and knocked vigorously to help her, but she always replied, ‘I am fine, Abba’. She was more than a daughter to me, during one winter I had pneumonia, every day she cleaned my blooded vomiting with her hands. There is no one who can be so much caring like my little girl. But she was alone, was living inside her own world. Then one day she apparently became lonely when my son died in a boat incident. Everyone blamed her for his death. She started wearing white saree and I could not look at her condition anymore. Torture of wife and daughters exceed all limits. Neither her family visited her for those ten years. One day, our village doctor came to me; he was a young man, who came from a foreign village. After long period of hesitation he said he wanted to marry Tuni. I stood up in anger, and asked him to leave. No widow ever get married in my small island, how could I agree to break societies standard. I could not sleep for whole night, and then next day I declared I will arrange for Tuni’s re-marriage. Every day I faced people’s questions and humiliation, but I was strict to my decision, because I saw a spark in my daughter’s eyes. The night before marriage, all reputed people came to me and asked to withdraw the marriage. When I declined, everyone told me that they will abandon or evict my family forever, I accepted with laughter. With them, my wife and daughters also left the house and left me alone. I asked Tuni to sleep deeply as she had to start a new life the next day. She assured me that she will solve all my worries. Next morning I found her blue body in the ground and a poison bottle next to her. Tuni left the world with all her sufferings.  I tried to hold her hand just like the day when she fell into the ground. That day Tuni was crying but after her death I clearly saw a slight smile on her face like she was saying me, there is no pain anymore, Abba. 

– Ansar Ali

I did not get time to mourn for my wife’s death. I could not cry by remembering her memory that very moment.  Life didn’t allow me to do all that. My wife had left our daughter to me in her form. When midwife handed me my daughter she was a premature baby, maybe she was just two kg. I had never take any child in my lap, but when I held her first time, I could not drop her off in the bed, I closely kept her with my heart. People used to say, new born searches for their mother’s smell or wants to hear the sound of mother’s heartbeat. But my daughter was fully aware of mine.

When she started crying for milk, I was unable to buy anything. I kept going from door to door to the village women who can generously breastfeed my baby. After seeing my tears no one said no to me. But at night it was hard. She cried for milk and I could not provide her anything. I did not sleep for one hour at night throughout her one month age. When she went to sleep, I used to check her breathing with my finger and checked frequently if she is alive or not, sometime in fear I held her in my chest, as I did not want her to leave me.

When villagers tell me I should give her cow milk at night, I could not buy bottle for her. I had no money. I collected an empty medicine bottle and borrowed a nipple and then fixed both together. With that bottle I feed her cow milk every night. When only mothers queue to vaccinate their child, I was the only father who queued with daughter. By thus I do not know how twenty years had passed. Now my daughter is a teacher in the primary school. She did not want me to work in the field anymore, she is taking care of our expenses, and all the time she wonders why I work in the field. I do not want to share that, I am saving for her. What will happen to her when I will die? I wanted her to get married, to start a life with someone she loves. But she is reckless; she said if someone accepted me with her then only she will get married. I do not want to explain her it is not possible in the world we are living. I want her to be loved by someone unconditionally, I want her to get such love which is more powerful than the love I have given her. This is my last wish to God.

– Joyed Ali (50)

I found out my daughter had an affair with a boy for five years. She never spoke about it as she is always afraid of me. Apart of it I assumed my children always hate me for the job I am doing since my childhood. I asked her to bring the boy and his family in our house. I decorated the house like a new bride and brought the best food for them. I have been saving for my daughter’s marriage for twenty years. That day my daughter was happiest than ever. When they started conversation they brought out a note of demand. They wanted all material things a family needs, I was calculating and nodded in agreement with every word they said. After all it’s about happiness of my daughter. The last point was they do not want me to introduce in front of their relatives and I should never go to visit my daughter. The moment they said it my daughter screamed in anger and by surprising all she slapped the boy. She angrily said, ‘My father can do the thing that no one can do. Not everyone can clean others mess. I am proud of what he does and if you do not leave my house in a minute I will beat you all.’ She broke the marriage proposal and ended her five years relationship in a second. From that day I know how fortunate and happy person I am.’ – Sweeper Monu lal

Have some still moments in a life full of motions. Whatever you do, do for soul feeding. You don’t make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved. Instinct and the ability to anticipate are skills that a street photographer acquires with experience, and a lot of practice. The more you walk through streets with your camera, the more you will be able to tune with the world around you. As a street photographer you are constantly scanning your surroundings. No expression or gesture can escape from you, the challenge is to record that story in your frame.

10 tips for encouraging Street Photography

# How to Frame the fleeting moment

 You are going to get the best light in a certain moments of the day. You will be finding an interesting element to shoot once in a while. Mood of the people changes very fast, so as their expressions. The environment of a whole scenario can change in a few seconds. The action, reaction, speed, mood, light, energy. color every single detail is moving with time, and you need to capture in a fleeting moment. Freeze the moment before you miss it, you need to active in the street like a pro. You need to be very fast to frame what you want to capture. It can be anything but anyone can read your creativity once they see how you frame elements of a picture. Street Photography is all about capturing fleeting moments, moments of tension, happiness, anxiety, relaxation, fun, and any moments which have a meaning to you. The framing of any moment depends on how you are connecting different elements into one photograph. If those elements compliment the atmosphere of your street photo then it will create magic.

# Easy to feel, hard to express the feeling

Emotions are easy to feel. And easier to see. But it is not easy to forward or make someone feel the way you are feeling. Expressing the emotion of your subject to your viewers is a challenge. Try to be simple with your presentation. If the image is about drama, make it dramatic, if it is fun, bring the funniest thing, and if it is motion create the action. Do not overdo it.

# Stay curious, Stay thirsty

You need to have an urge to know the place you are shooting. If the place does not create an interest on you, do not waste your time there. Without curiosity no good work can be produced. The feeling of ‘I know this place’, ‘I know what is going to happen’; these thought can never bring any newness in your photograph. Instead feed yourself with this kind of thought ‘This can be very interesting’, ‘I need to go to close’. You need to be curious to experiment with your art, you have to be curious to see things from the detail, with different angels, by creating different framing. Always take horizontal and vertical both shots. Your energy will reflect on your photograph. The intensity of your work defines how critically you have worked, how deeply you look through your viewfinder.

 # Break the stereotype, there is no rule or role model

You already stored hundreds of image ideas on your mind. As soon as you start taking photograph unintentionally you may want to get the kind of shot you already put inside your head. When you become obsessed to get a certain kind of photographs you are blocking your vision, you stop seeing what you are able to see. It is important to check other photographers work. It can be interesting to get a few shots naturally that many of the photographers had done similarly but this is very important to have your own visuals. It is important to visualize images but to do that successfully you have to free your mind. There is no rule or role model. Release the tension; do not blur your vision of imagination. Challenge yourself at least once in a month to take a shot you never tried before. Get out of that   frame of mind of trying to make someone else happy.  Be wise enough to take challenge, you can fail, it can be hilarious but if you never tried something new how you will know what you love most.

# Pay attention to patterns, actions and the detail

Pay attention to pattern. Play with light and shadow. Try to capture detail. Make the image interesting. It can be anything. Street Photography is an everyday process of learning. The more you the more you understand your kind of style. No one can take similar picture of one scene at a time. An image is not about what a photographer is seeing but how the photographer is seeing. And adding some patterns, actions and detail will create uniqueness in your image.

 # know your camera and how it works, be technically sound

There is no specific camera for street photography, and gear alone will not make your street photography better. Do not stop because you only have a compact or a DSLR or smartphone. Pick up the camera you have and make a step in the right direction and start practicing. We need a camera to take photos and certain lenses for our own style. But beside camera also buy photography books and participate in photography workshop. If you do not have any technical knowledge of photography you will continue to do the same mistake without improving anything. It will go to vein if you invest everything for only gears not for knowledge. Do not become obsessed with gears. Keep one camera, one lens specifically. Take some time during every week to practice adjusting your camera controls, focusing distance and exposures. Be bold, and give yourself your first assignment on the street: discover the world right outside your front door.

 # The art of seeing the unseen

 When you will master the art of seeing, you will start to see things from your inner light. Street Photography is an art of observation. It is all about have the right of amount patience with energy to enjoy. It’s a representation of how you see things. Every moment has something beautiful, some amazing things that are happening all around you, you just need to open your heart to see that with your eyes. Try to capture what you feel not just what you see.

# How to overcome the fear, hesitation and confusion

Be curious. Travel to unknown and greet to strangers. Have some chat about the place and people. Only start to shoot when you can relate with the people and the place. Find your spirit, your true purpose! If you can really change your mindset then you will be able to change your life. Remember, true learning doesn’t happen in your home. Travel and travel a lot. Do not hesitate to go to an unknown alley. No one can be lost, every road has a destination. And if the road ends you can always come back. Shoot from distance and from close. Always remember, if you believe on yourself the world will believe on you.

# Photography vs income

Have you stopped listening to your favourite music because it is not bringing money to you? Have you stopped reading your favorite story books just because it is not bringing anything in your pocket? Have you resisted yourself to travel all your desired places only because there is no economic return? If not, then do not put your camera aside; do not stop taking images by thinking about money/ awards/ rewards or considering Photography as a tough career. What about pleasing your soul, embracing a creative you, seeing an unknown world, discovering a new you! Aren’t these beyond monetary worthy? Be a priceless photographer who is serving for own

# Make mistakes

I hope you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re doing something. So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough. If you fail, pick yourself up, dusk off, learn and grow. This is how you can become great at anything by making mistakes.

Struggling to get good street photographs? Stay patient and trust your journey. What’s meant to be, will happen. You don’t need to find out meaning of everything. Trust your dream that is going to take you where you belong. In this journey you need to stand by your side, you need to be your best friend but also you need to be your best critic. Because it needs a lot of courage to dig into yourself and see what need to improve about you, to see what still have to achieve! Everyone can accept your flaws except you. You have to become a best version of yourself and work on yourself every day, every hour, every moment.

Upcoming Street Photography workshop with GMB Akash:

‘Street Life’ – A Street Photography Workshop with GMB Akash

Dates: 28^th July (Friday) and 29^th July (Saturday) 2017

Place: First Light Campus, Dhaka, Bangladesh

To apply email to akashimages@gmail or to make any queries call 01989052484. For detail visit: Street Photography with GMB Akash

Calling you to discover mesmerizing aspects of Street Photography. By having this experience you will master the art of seeing; you will start to see things from your inner light. You will be taught how being a photographer requires much more than just looking through the view finder and pressing your finger on a cold metal button. How a photographer needs to have psychological connectivity in every encounter of the journey. The fear, hesitation, lack of confidence will be replaced by empathy, assurance and vision. This two days is not just for discovering a photographer inside of you, it is going to unfold what you have already within you. Let’s come and experience of having some magical moments of walking in the streets of street photography.

“Refugees didn’t just escape a place. They had to escape a thousand memories until they’d put enough time and distance between them and their misery to wake to a better day.”

There are about 1 million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh. Since the 1970s Rohingya refugees have been coming to Bangladesh from Myanmar.

Sharing Nine real life stories of ‘Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh’

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

My elderly mother cannot walk. I have carried her on my back for the past seven days. I had to carry her all the way. She lost weight and became lighter, but I became weaker after seven days of a desperate journey over muddy roads, through the jungle, crossing canals on foot.

We hadn’t eaten at all. I sometimes begged others with whom we fled for food, and they gave small portions of the little they had.

Some people carried rice with them, and mixed it with pond water and we were fed for a few days. But three days ago the rice was gone.

The Myanmar military killed my only brother, Azad, and set fire to our entire house. They took our cattle and everything we had.

I cannot carry my mother anymore. I am so tired now without food and water. We don’t know how long we will have to walk like this. I don’t know how long my mother will survive like this. I wish God would show his mercy upon us. – Rasid (25)

For the last seven days I have been moving with my children from one place to another. I was not able to feed them. Without food and water, they became ill and collapsed. Sometimes along the way, people would throw biscuits, but among such a crowd I was not able to catch them.

My son has had a fever for the last two nights. Before the fever he cried continuously, but now he neither cries, nor opens his eyes.

It rained heavily in the night. We were soaking wet. We had to sit in the water all night long. This is no place to be. _Raseda

My son, Sahed, continuously cries for milk, but I’m not able to breastfeed him. I have not eaten anything for three days. There is nothing coming from my breasts. I have survived only by drinking water from the roadside ponds.

I delivered my only child in the jungle three days ago. My contraction pains started while fleeing from our house. Shouting from the pain, I collapsed on the roadside. Three women who were also running came forward to help me. They covered me with banana leaves and helped me to give birth to my baby.

For the past two days we have been sitting in a rough, muddy road that runs through a rice field. We become wet from the rain and dry by the hot sun of the day. There are children and old people everywhere, screaming for food and water. There is nothing to eat. We’ve slept under the open sky for the last nine nights.

When our house was burned to ashes by the Myanmar military, I walked mile after mile with my nine-month pregnancy. Everything we carried was taken from us for the river crossing to Bangladesh. I lost track of my husband, Abdul Noor, when we fled. I have no idea if he is alive or not. Maybe he has already been killed by the Myanmar army and my son has already lost his father; just like he has lost his country. – Sajeda 25

The military came and burned our home. They burned everything. They killed my son and I lost my husband as we were fleeing. I came alone, traveling with others leaving their villages.

For the last seven days I have been walking day and night. I’m not able to move any longer. I am so tired, so exhausted! I have eaten nothing for the past two days, only drinking pond water.

We lost everything in Myanmar. I had gold and jewelry. We had domestic animals – six cows and ten goats. We had lots of chickens, but they were all burned when the military set fire to our house. I miss my son, my husband, our house, our animals, and the lives we had together. I have many wonderful memories.

If peace can be restored to Myanmar, and we can be safe and secure, my people will return. – Nuri Begum

We have nobody except God. I have been reciting the Quran the whole day after I left my country and I pray for my country and for my people. May Allah save us from this greatest misfortune. We did not want to leave our country. We loved our country and our country is like our mother. We had everything there. We had land; we had a fishing boat; we had cattle. We were happy!

But the Myanmar military killed my husband in front of us and I managed to escape with my two children in the middle of the night. I had no rice to eat for 5 days; my two children survived by eating leaves.

Life is not easy here in these makeshift camps; I need to wait in the line for hours under the hot sun for some relief food. But I feel safe here; my children can eat here. Thank you people of Bangladesh for saving our lives and giving us a shelter.  ­_ Roksara 30

I want some food. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday evening. The Myanmar military killed my only son Hossain, who was the only person in our family able to earn a living.

They burned our homes and seized our cows – and everything we had. I fled for my life, along with fellow villagers. I came to Bangladesh at night, after eight days of walking. I only had some rice and lentils. But that’s now gone and we’re surviving by begging on the roadside.

I’m still looking for somewhere we can stay. I have been moving from place to place. I heard there is a small hill. I could stay up there. But I have no money. I have nothing with me. I need everything – household materials, and plastic sheeting for making a makeshift shelter.

Our lives in Myanmar were decent. We had land for agriculture, cattle, a vegetable garden, and chickens. We were self-sufficient. Now we have nothing – only God. – Sohura Khatun

It was eight at night. My family was having dinner together when the Myanmar military suddenly came and set fire to our home. They killed my husband and they killed my brother. The soldiers tore my sister’s clothes off, put a dagger to her throat and started to rape her. After they raped my sister they set her body on fire. It was horrific and we deeply suffered. I have no idea how I managed to escape that night with my children. I carried one of my children on my back and another one on my chest. I am seven-months pregnant.

It was so painful to walk on the muddy roads. I walked with my children barefoot several days to reach the border with Bangladesh. There was no water and no food. I have no idea how I managed my children and myself along with my seven-month pregnancy. It was raining and the roads were slippery in between the rice fields. I collapsed several times from exhaustion and leg pain. Every day we got wet with rain and dried in the sun. For several days I wore the same dress and even could not bathe. I had to walk for miles and could never take a restful break!

I saw many women delivering their babies on the roadside in the middle of the night. They were helpless; they were sick; there was no help! There was no food for days. _Nesaru

I don’t know why they killed my little sister Yasmin. She was just one month old. What had she ever done wrong? She was on my lap when the military broke into our room, grabbed her from me and threw her into the fire.

The Myanmar military shot my mother and father in front of us. They had come into the village and started killing people, and then burnt our homes. We fled to the jungle, but the military came and found us so we had to flee again. It took us seven days to get here by walking.

Before coming here, my elder sister Sanoyara used to play. She was fine, but now sometimes she’s afraid the military will come and kill both of us! – Januka (10)

The whole day we sat waiting for help. Since morning it had been raining nonstop. Both my eleven-month old son, Anis, and I were soaked and he shivered from the cold. Every day I came and sat with my little son on the roadside. Sometimes people would stop in their cars and offer food or money. Food and money meant we would survive another week.

Myanmar soldiers had pulled my husband by the hair. He held tight to their feet, pleading for forgiveness. But they killed him, and then set his body aflame in front of us.

I hid myself and my boy in the chicken pen. From there, I watched the soldiers cut my husband’s throat with a knife. I held tight to my child’s eyes so he couldn’t see. I can’t remember when I fainted. When I awoke, everything was burned to ashes.

Early the next morning we managed to escape with others from the village. It took four days to reach the border of Bangladesh. I carried my son on my back. We walked without food. It was painful to carry him without having food or water. Sometimes we drank from ponds and the streams. We ate leaves from the trees. We slept under the open sky. It rained constantly and it was difficult walking without shoes.

When we reached the river, I gave my gold earrings and chain to the boatman. It took two days and nights to reach the other side. It was rainy and cold at night. We were 25 people in our boat and we held onto each other for protection. There was nothing to eat and the water was rough. My son’s face was pale and he was horrified! He was holding me tightly all the time. I thought I could not save my son; just as I was not able to save my husband. We felt we were dying that night! _Fatema 19

For the last couple of weeks I have been in the Rohingya refugee camps. I have gone from dwelling to dwelling helping mainly women with children, older women and children who lost their parents. Nine hundred families received much-needed cash from me and some of my Facebook friends who contributed to this humanitarian effort and who have my heartfelt thanks. All of the Rohingya people that we were able to help send their blessings and gratitude to us for our generosity and kindness. Love and light to all of you! -GMB Akash

‘Heroes of Life’ – are those incredible humans who always find their way to light and love. They had known defeat, suffering, and struggles, yet they possess a beautiful story in their hearts, which is worthy to share with the world.

Sharing 10 real life stories which will definitely melt your heart

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

Every day it was my task to wait for my father in the evening. I waited, and waited for him to arrive home from our village market. When he returned with his happy face, my first question was “what did you bring for me today?” As always the reply was with another question, “who will bring you sweets every day when I won’t be here anymore?” I used to always laugh at his questions and replied “who? You don’t know who my husband will be!” I don’t remember my mother; I lost her when I was only two years old. My father is the only one who took care of me the last six years of his life. After that my aunty took me with her as a servant.

Almost two years ago, I developed a One on One, personalized workshop for individuals who came to Bangladesh from all over the world to participate. Each of the 11 photographers with whom I’ve worked so far, have come to me with their specific goals and aspirations.

It has been an extraordinary opportunity for international participants and for me to intensely share different perspectives, cultural and aesthetic viewpoints as well as to have unusually rewarding experiences in the unique and colorful Bangladeshi culture. This workshop has provided some rare and thought-provoking photographic results by the participants who have been challenged to achieve their personal objectives.

Each of the 11 photographers with whom I’ve worked so far has come to me with their specific goals and aspirations.

Meet three of those participants here exhibiting their work and discussing their experiences during the One on One workshop in Dhaka, Bangladesh.

Sharing 3 students’ work

Lorrie Dallek came from Atlanta, Georgia, USA to attend the ‘One on One workshop’ with me in Bangladesh. She has been doing photography for more than 10 years professionally concentrating on social documentary and has been travelling continually to feed her passion. She wanted to explore photography from a different perspective which has brought her to take part in this customized photography workshop with me. The workshop has assured her of the perfect combination of practice and theory leading to a progressive improvement of her pictures and giving her a profound experience within a professional environment.

Mahesh Krishnamurthy came from Indonesia to attend the ‘One on One workshop’ with me in Bangladesh. He has travelled to more than 100 countries and his passion for photography has brought him to Dhaka to participate in this in-depth workshop.

Volker Eichhorn, an engineer, came from Germany to attend the ‘One on One workshop’ with me in Bangladesh. He started photographing at the age of 15 with a fully mechanical SLR camera. At the end of 2006 he moved to Switzerland and until 2015 he was mainly focusing on travel photography: landscapes (panoramas) and people. Confessing to being shy in approaching people for photos, he was shooting them from some distance with a longer lens. Therefore, his principal reason for selecting the ‘One on One’ workshop with me was to broaden his scope and learn more about approaching and shooting people in a natural state while they were working or doing something at home or just resting. With the workshop’s combination of theory and practice and with intense discussions of his work in the field, Volker was able to progressively improve his shots of people giving him the confidence and skills to help him attain his goals.

To check other participants’ work visit my workshop website: http://www.gmbakashworkshop.com

If you are interested in joining this exclusive program send an email to receive further details to akashphoto@gmail.com

About the workshop: The focus of this customized program is to teach photography going beyond boundaries. Each student will have exclusive access to me through the duration of the workshop, giving them the opportunity to take advantage of my work experience, teachings, and methodologies. Each workshop is six days long and set in locations that are rich in culture with a wealth of photographic and documentary subject matter.

‘Heroes of Life’ – are those incredible humans who always find their way to light and love. They had known defeat, suffering, and struggles, yet they possess a beautiful story in their hearts, which is worthy to share with the world.

Sharing 10 real life stories which will definitely melt your heart

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

I wanted to join the war in 1971 from the very beginning when it started. But my new bride and my mother did not let me go. That evening, everything we had ended. Suddenly the Pakistani military came with our local Bengali Rajakars (war criminals) who were aiding Pakistan. They killed our neighbors. We all had to hide in the rotten pond in our backyard with my newborn boy. For hours we covered ourselves with the water hyacinth. My newborn died after that day from pneumonia.

After that I joined up as a freedom fighter for the Bengali people. I was only 22. At that age we naturally feel more power in our blood. But I never knew that I was so powerful. I came to know the meaning of my name in our base camp. My name is Hazrat Ali; according to Islam and our prophet Muhammad, ‘Hazrat Ali’ was the greatest warrior. In our camp everyone respected me as a sincere fighter. They always tried to inspire courage for others by saying “we have Hazrat Ali with us, nothing will happen.” I used to stay awake the whole night in hunger. I don’t know how many nights I didn’t sleep or how many days we didn’t eat but I never felt tired. I fought for our country till the war ended. Once I got caught by the Pakistani military. They tortured me severally and I thought, “I am dead”. They threw me in a river with other dead bodies. But if God wants to save you no one can do anything. God saved my life.

Encounter the 10 most outstanding examples of women full of courage, strength, love and loyalty. As you will explore and travel through the cities of all these women, you will know how hard their lives are as well as the circumstances that leads them to their ultimate acts of courage and still remain strong. In these stories, you will meet some fascinating, heroic and relentless women who each possess a beautiful story in their hearts which is worthy to share with the world.

Presenting 10 real-life stories which will melt your hearts and inspire bravery in yourselves.

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

The day I was born, no one even touched their food, as I was the fourth daughter of my parents. My black skin color made the situation more miserable for them. My three elder sisters were fair, tall and slim. I was clearly a burden for my poor parents, everyone told me that throughout my childhood. Sometimes I heard my mother telling my father that bringing me into their life was a curse. So I started praying to God, almost every day I prayed to make me a little bit fairer, taller and slimmer. My father managed to fix my marriage by giving false promises to the groom. The kind hearted guy married the ugliest girl of our village. Overnight he became the kindest guy of his generation. I was told never to return to home ever again. So my only option was to listen to my kind hearted husband’s every order. I was fearful all the time. A kind of fear every black girl feels about losing her husband. Every day he used to beat me miserably, because of the false promises my father made to him. I always kept quiet as I thought the fault was all mine. One day he threw hot water onto my feet, I remained silent. I couldn’t sleep for countless nights in fear of losing everything that was never mine. One day when I sat to eat, without any warning signs he kicked me from the back. When I fell to the ground, I was awake; I took the stick nearest to me and started beating him, without giving him any chance to attack me. I was beating every single person of my life who humiliated me. Everyone who ripped my soul. No one came to stop me and I saw fear on their faces. I took my son and left that house forever. I never cried for a single time after that. Never prayed to God to make me beautiful, never begged anyone to love me. I work as a labourer. Whenever I see little black girls working in the site, I always smile to them and tell them how beautiful they are. They asked me with surprise ‘how can a black girl be beautiful?’. I tell them, ‘Only beautiful is the person who has a beautiful heart.’ – Monowara

When I first came with my motorcycle to this village, a lot of villagers gathered and surrounded me like they never saw something like this before. People used to show me to each other and said “see the bad women who is riding a motorcycle”. Now many girls from this village want to learn how to ride a motorcycle from me!

I rode a motorcycle before my marriage. Now I work with an international NGO. When I was younger I used to go to school using my bicycle. My husband liked me because I was different from the others. My husband can’t drive so he always sits behind me on the motorcycle! This is very unusual for my village people. But my husband always told me, “never listen to people. “

My husband and my two daughters are always proud of me. One daughter is named Jannat and is 11 years old. My younger daughter is 5 years old. I bought bicycles for both of them with 11 thousand taka which I saved from my salary. My elder daughter goes to school with her bicycle. I always told her that Men and women have the same rights. If a man can ride a bicycle and motorcycle, why you can’t?

I dream that my daughters will be doctor when they grow up. I also bought a big land with my own savings for my daughters so they can open their own clinic after finishing their studies. 

My mother was seven years old when she got married. When I grew up, my mother started her studies with me from class one. We went to school together until class 8 .Then my Mother did not continue her education because of our big family. But she always told me, ” Lucky you have to be independent, you have to do a job and fulfill your all dream “
_Lucky (38)

‘Our landlord used to call me illiterate. The landlord has a daughter same age of mine. She attended school, college, and then university. I went to work when she went for education. Recently she got married to a wealthy family and her parents gave a lot of dowry. My landlord’s daughter refused to do any job as it does not suit her in-laws status and her parents are bound to give her many gifts all the time.

On the contrary, my salary helps my parents to live in a good house, to buy good foods, the overtime money I earn goes to my younger sisters’ education. The work I am doing is my dignity, I am happy to be illiterate – Monowara (25)

During my birth, my mother died. My parents were from a remote village. So my father could not do anything for saving her life. I grew up with my grandparents and then with my uncle’s family. I was a very brave lady from my childhood. My environment had pushed me to be a brave woman. I did every kind of work that a man does. I took care of our 7 cows. Along with our maid I dried thousands of sacks of rice. I was strong and brave like a man. Our villagers used to say, “You will never get married. Who will marry a girl that is like a man? Who will be her family? No man will live with her!” I was never concerned about those words because at that time my only thoughts were to work for a living and to feed myself as well as and to make my family members happy. I understood at that age, that nothing but work can make people happy.

Proving everyone wrong; I got married when I was 15 years old. I got the most loving husband. I found a dream come true. I have never imagined a life that could be so colorful. My husband was a very loving man. I had never found that much love ever like that which I got from him. But that happiness was really for a short period of time. I got a divorce after 3 years of my marriage. They wanted a child from me, but I could not give them a child. God have not given me that power to conceive. Doctors said I am unable to become a mother. For 3 years I had done everything and eaten
everything people told me about to facilitate a pregnancy.Nothing happened. Finally, making everyone right again, my husband of 3 years left me because I can’t be a mother. When I found my marriage was over I thought my life was over too. It is impossible for me to describe the depth of the pain when you get the most beautiful thing in your life and then lose it again in front of your eyes.

I have never married again, but became a midwife instead. I had been interested in it since my childhood. No one could save my mother. So I wanted to save mothers’ lives. For that, I took training from the midwife of our village. I have been brave since my childhood. From my acts people started to believe in me. They started wanting me in their labor room. They started to feel confident when I am there in their labor room. I saved hundreds of women’s lives. But I am badly defeated again by my fate. I could not save my mother’s life. My adopted daughter whom I was calling ‘Maa’ for the last 25 years left me last month in her labor room. I could not save my mother’s life again- Roksana 60

Before I understood the world around me, I was feed with word like ugly, black, worthless. The more I grew up more I understood the world only see, it does not feel. There is very little value of inner beauty, everything is about skin and color. When I was a child, people do not adore me, they always told my parents to take care of me so I can become little fair. I was always forced to follow someone as role model, as my parents reminded me what an ugly girl could do in her life. When I was a teenager, in my school during award ceremony teachers let only beautiful girl to sit in the front row. Ugly girls like me were supposed to do all the works and sat in the last bench of the class. I grew up frightened and embarrassed by losing all my sense of pride. I lost my dignity in the game of color and beauty. But in this journey, I never stopped being a good soul. No matter how much people hurt me with their words or actions. But I continued to live in a fear that I born with nothing. After losing my husband I was about to die with my twin daughters. They were very young and fragile. I had nothing left. And then one of my relative told me, what would happen to my daughters who exactly look like me. That very moment, I felt different. I questioned myself how I can bring worth in my daughter’s life. That day, that vulnerable ugly woman died to give identity to her daughters. I cannot remember when last time I took rest. I traveled two days alone to arrive here. I did not know anyone, any place and had no idea how I could survive. How an ugly woman could survive and made her way to life. I worked ten years of my life to change my identity. Now I built a house in my village. My daughters are going to the best school. And I have saved a good amount of money for myself. Every time when I go to visit my daughters I tell them, only pretty are the people who have good heart and do no harm to other people. I will never let them to fall in the trap of ugliness of a world which only value skin.
– Afroza (38)

My daughter was 6 years old, my elder son was 3 and a half years old and my younger son was only 5 months old when I moved to Dhaka twenty years ago. I never spent a single penny for myself; I walked mile after mile going from one student’s house to another student’s house to give private tuition on Math. Sometimes I had to walk more than 8 kilometers in one day. Every day I started at 7am and came back home after work around 11pm. Most of the time I did not use any transportation; I did not eat the whole day in order to save money for my children’s education. After an entire day of work, I was exhausted physically as well as mentally and also emotionally drained. But I never gave up my dream!

My father died when I was 13 years old, and I was the elder daughter of my family so I had to look after my whole family. I worked in our field and at the same time I also continued my education. I always told my children about my struggles and how hard I had to work to earn to continue their education. They always gave me hope that they will do their best to fulfill my dream. My children were always keen on learning. They made no demands and lived a very simple life with me!

Four years ago I started this pharmacy with my own income; now I don’t teach anymore. I take care of my family with the income I get from this pharmacy. Now my daughter is a doctor and my elder son is a mechanical engineer. My younger son is studying at Dhaka University. My entire dream came true only because of my determination and hard work as well as the sacrifices I made.

If every woman started working, there would be no poverty. Women can change the entire society as well as their own lives. I always pray to God that I must die while I am working. _ Rakiba Akter 47

After two years I readmitted to my class. My parents were not able to send me to school last two years. I am very afraid to start again. I am going to meet new friends who will be two years younger than me. I have no idea if I will be able to make new friends or not. I am very scared but I really want to continue my education. Today, when I was telling my grandmother that I should not go now, I should go some time later. Then she told me, ‘If I were you, sixty years ago I would run to my school having the chance of going to school. Not everyone gets a second chance, always remember, it’s now or never.’ I am nervous from head to toe but I am on my way. I really hope my teacher will smile to me and my new classmates will accept me as their friend. But if they don’t, I will not give up. I do not want to become someone who lost before fighting the battle of dream.
– Afsana

Ten years ago, I cried vulnerably by sitting exactly here. I cried in fear, in helplessness, in shame. In my fifteen years of marriage life, I never thought my husband could ever leave me. There was nothing painful when I was abandoned by the person I trusted most. I spent that very evening by sitting in our river side. No one knew what was happening inside me, my whole life was crushing inside mychest and I was sitting in silence far from everything. Then I decided to die. It was easier to die than live. I took out our boat, went in the middle of the river, calmly tied my legs with a piece of my torn cloth and jumped. I was my father’s wild girl; he taught me how to swim in very tender age. He bravely told everyone if his girl needed she could cross the river by swimming. But I was drowning. I was seeing death very closely and then I saw the face of my father. At that night, when I was desperate to die, my death father was trying to hold me. I never thought I would try to save myself that moment and wanted dearly to breathe. I had no idea how I was managed to free myself and swim. I managed to save myself from the death which was about to kill me. The fisher men of my village found me before I lost my sense. I was a woman who never went outside of her village in thirty years of her life. In the same day, I took the launch and arrived in the city. I had no idea how to earn, where to sleep, what to eat. I was crying by sitting in this place, when my friend Sufiya came and sat beside me. She looked at me and asked me, ‘What is the price of your tears?’ I become angry and told her, ‘Nothing?’ She wept off my tears, put the bucket above my head and said, ‘Then never cry again.’ It’s been ten years we are friends. Since the day I never cry again. That helpless woman had died in the tide of river, I am now my father’s girl who is able to cross any river or ocean.
– Shormila (mother of Suruj 12) with her friend Sufiya in the right

I have no good memory about my childhood. I do not want to remember what had happened to me when I was a kid. When I open my wound it brings unbearable pain to my heart. I feel pity for me. I feel pity for the little girl who was alone, very alone. People killed my childhood, they torn me into so many pieces that I still could not fix. I was twelve years old. When I was getting dressed I thought, I must be going somewhere to play. My family married me off when I was thinking about school picnic. I was beaten every day for dowry without knowing what dowry actually mean. I asked my husband where I would find dowry, and he had beaten me hard. All they wanted was money to a child. And my family was not able to give them anything.

I gave birth to my daughter when I was thirteen. I hold her like a doll and was afraid if they take her from me to bring any dowry. That was my childhood and motherhood. One of my favourite teachers named my daughter ‘Joyita’. She told me, my daughter will bring ‘victory’ to me, that is the meaning of her name. That did not happen easily. I was kicked out from my house and I had no place to go. Thirteen years old mother and her daughter had no place in this brutal world for one night. Strangely, I had received help from people whom I never knew. Life is so strange that I realized at very tender age. The people I loved most was turned into strangers. My battle was not about surviving. My battle was living in a loveless world and holding my daughter with a heart full of love. I never knew what true love was, what it feels to be loved. But my daughter held me tightly and I told myself I will win for her, I will win to save my daughter’s childhood.

Soon I will finish my university, my daughter Jotiya is in school. This is my world. Every corner of this room is decorated by me and my daughter. This is our parlour and it’s name is ‘Joyita Beauty Parlour’. I work, laugh and dream. People asked me why I am not starting my life newly. I ask them what does mean by new. They elaborately said, new mean a new man, new relationship. I laugh at lot. I have survived ten years of a battle with my little baby. Do I really need to have a new man to give a new meaning to my life? No, I don’t need. If my wound ever heals, may be one day I will find someone, someone who will make me believe in love.
– Sayma (23)

The smile of my father was very peaceful. Even after facing struggle, poverty, illness he never forgot to laugh. Nothing was able to take away his beautiful smile. He was suffering from an illness. I was very young then. Other than praying hard for him I was not able to do anything. Whenever we stayed in hospital we hardly received any hope for him. My family had no idea of a better treatment. I lost my father because we were not able to understand what to do for his treatment. It’s been so many years I have lost my father. But I am trying to hold his smile even now. Whenever I see any little girl is feeding her father in a hospital bed, I stop for sometimes. I see my father there, smiling at me. Sometimes small girls stop me and ask, ‘Sister, do you think my father will be okay?’ With smile, I always say, ‘Of course, he will be. For you.’ Giving hope is as important as prescribing medicine. Sometimes I feel very tired; my toes hurt a lot and shoulder become stiff, sometimes people’s bad behaviours break me entirely, but then I see my father smiling at me from the patient bed. I stand up and continue to serve people. Whenever I am able to treat a father and he goes back to home with his daughter, I smile, as like my father does all the time from very far. Its easier to fight against every disease; we only have to add love and care with the medicine.

– Sabina Yesmin (25)

Extreme violence in Myanmar has forced Rohingya families to flee the state. Homes and fields have been set on fire; family members have been killed and the intensity continues. On 25 August 2017, Myanmar’s military and local militia launched a wave of “clearance operations.” This was allegedly in response to attacks by the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army in Rakhine state that turned into widespread violence against civilians. More than 700,000 Rohingya people have fled across the border since August to escape a brutal military crackdown and have poured into Bangladesh. The momentum and scale of arrivals make this the world’s fastest growing refugee crisis. Over 1,400 children have arrived by themselves after witnessing the deaths of their parents and loved ones. Families are in urgent need of life-saving food assistance, water, sanitation, shelter, health and support. The influx of refugees is expected to continue and the small region of Bangladesh does not have the capacity to support them.

I had the privilege of personally distributing donations from my friends and myself in the Rohingya refugee camps. I have gone from dwelling to dwelling helping mainly women with children, older women and children who lost their parents. More than 1500 families received much-needed cash in their life crisis moment.

If there’s one thing we all enjoy reading, it’s an authentic love story. One that fills our hearts with joy and hope but also teaches us of possible despair when involved in human attraction. One that inspires us with wonderful characters and their beautiful actions of selfless love. Love stories that take us into the characters’ world and sometimes make us fall in love.

This blog post is a tribute to those lovers and beautiful souls who love beyond boundaries.  Sharing the 10 most vibrant and memorable love stories with real love life experiences of the people portrayed here.

My husband always cries over little things for me; last week I was sick and went for an injection in the hospital with him. Suddenly he started crying loudly while the nurse was preparing to inject me; I was feeling very shy because the nurse started laughing seeing him crying like a child. You know yet this man left me in my parents’ home the day of our wedding and never went to see me for the next 3 months.
It was his fault. He saw my younger sister with me and it was her that he wanted to marry.
My younger sister is the beautiful girl in our family. My husband sent a proposal to my father and never went to confirm who the real bride was! My parents mistakenly thought he liked me and they prepared everything for our marriage.

I spent that whole afternoon swimming in our abandoned pond like a crazy woman. No one knew what was happening inside me; my whole life was crushing inside my chest. I saw them together in my own bed. I can’t make you understand about that deep, burning pain in the chest if you have never gone through the betrayal of your partner who you once trusted the most and to whom you promised to live your whole life with in any situation.

My husband betrayed me, he betrayed me with my own blood whom I was upbringing all her life as if I was her mother. I never thought in my worse dreams that even she could do this to me: my only sister who was with me after the death of our mother. My only sister, whom I loved as my child, seized everything from me. She fell in love with my husband and took my nine years of married life and my future, my dreams, and all my beliefs that I could never rebuild again as a human being. Our family tried a lot to make her understand but she was in love; no one could make her understand. My father hit her miserably, tried to lock her in my parents’ home but she escaped again and again and came to my husband. I couldn’t say anything to her. She was my child, my sister. It was very tough for me to accept that situation. I wanted to kill myself several times in order to make the situation easier. I was finding a lot of ways to kill myself; to leave this life but I could not because of my son and maybe I am not brave enough. I handed my love to my sister and wished them luck the night I flew from our town and never retuned again. Last year in the middle of the night without thinking where I was going, where I would go, how would survive with my four-year-old son, I left everything. Nevertheless, I am alive. But inside me everything has died: my soul, my love, my every single dream, all my beliefs. I lost all my trust of everyone; I am just alive on the outside. I forgot to smile brother. Nowadays, even my smile appears as if I am crying.- Hasina Akhter

He has been making me laugh a lot by calling me ‘Robocop’ for the last month. It hurts when I laugh heavily because this month I will be on my ninth month of my pregnancy and he has never let me stop laughing for a minute. This last month he has been mocking me by calling me ‘Robocop’ because I can’t move very fast with my eight-month pregnant belly. I walk slowly, turn slowly, sit slowly, and for him I become a Robocop. I have never seen a Robocop before and I don’t even understand it but he watched that movie and for my better understanding he sometimes acts like a Robocop in front of me. He looks so funny that I can’t allow myself to laugh standing up.

We have already decided our child’s name; if it will be a boy, we will call him ‘Sagor’ (Ocean) and if will be a girl, we will call her ‘Nodi’ (River). I am expecting a boy but my Hero is expecting a girl because he says, “after we will become older, you can’t laugh like this anymore so I will be able to see your smile on my daughter’s face.” He loves my smile; that’s why he tries to make me laugh all the time.

He is working so hard every day making a gold chain for our child. I feel so blessed that I found my love and found this man in my life. I never hesitate to give thanks to Allah for his kindness upon me. I wish to die beside him._ Shahin and Jhuma

I was 12 years old when I got married to him. I still remember. He came with a horse cart to marry me. No one got married in my entire village with a horse cart. I was so happy and proud! My husband paid 10 taka at that time for it. He could have bought a very big paddy field with that money!

A timeless beautiful face will always stand the test of time. I am fascinated to capture some faces and some characters that are incredibly important to me as a photographer or as an admirer. I see the timeless beauty of peoples face and the human soul in the picture I take. Journey of portraying these timeless faces starts long ago when I find out there are certain people who are icons of heroism and enthusiasms. Over and over I go back to them, find them out and by portraying them able to keep a part of these victors with me._GMB Akash

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

©GMB Akash/ http://www.gmb-akash.com

Every face is passing a message of anticipation. I have learned to run my photography equipment’s; I have studied to learn to take portraits or getting a best environmental portrait. But when I concentrate beyond technical things, these characters become icons to me. I looked into them through the lens and I tried to pick the message of anticipation into the photograph. This is the biggest challenge which has no rules, which can never be taught, which can be only a self-taught rule of getting timeless faces into photograph_GMB Akash