The wind blows 260 km/h, the seawater rash 10-15 feet high. Thousands of people died, more then that lost in the sea. People lost their houses, castles, ripen crops of the fields. This entire thing happens in one night, in hours only. SIDR, one of the cruel Cyclones in Bangladesh history, attack in the costal area on 15 November 2007 at mid night. Hole country is powerless and in dark for 24 hour. No network connection, No TV channel, No radio, there were no way to know what happen in the costal areas.
I reached at Shoronkhola, one of the most damaged areas of costal reason after 3 days of SIDR with some of my friends. This is the first time I experience such a vast destruction of Mother Nature. Many people still searching their family members, all the drinking water of ponds were salty; human and cattle dead bodies are floating on the water. Father searching his daughter in the bush, son found his mother dead body that can merely recognized.
…. there are no place to bury the dead bodies….
….no food…. no drinking water…. no words…
….only the hidden tears …..
…..only the smell of the dead bodies…..
……flouting all over the wind….
But this is not the main story. I also discover how human fight against the nature; start new life from the destruction. To me this braveness and strongness of the coastal people is the true sprit of Human being.
early every morning, as i flip through the pages of the daily newspapers
i find bold headlines — “bus-truck collision at tangail”, “7 dead, 20 injured”,
“5 dead from the same family by private car-bus collision at sylhet”,
“44 people dead at chittagong as truck turns upside down into a ditch,
3 people in fatal condition………
everyday i see these news and I feel resentful, i feel loss, i feel empty, i feel helpless…….
again so many more lives lost before they flourished, so many more families losing their beloved one, so many more families losing their only earning member and turned poorer or penniless……..
i see nobody cares; neither do i, nor does my country……….
i am quite happy living my own normal life, i am quite relieved that i haven’t lost a beloved in these road accidents……..
fortunate me taking my morning tea, turning over and over the newspaper pages, thinking myself very lucky and living everyday of my life, yet dying every moment……..
Fishing is a one of the oldest profession in human history. From time immemorial, a large number of Bengali people have depended for their livelihood on fishing and related occupations. Fishermen in rural Bangladesh usually live a community life in neighborhoods or villages around the water bodies. They cooperate closely with one another not only in fishing, but also in economic activities, such as marketing and purchasing, and in social life and family affairs. They have lived communally for many generations, creating in the process their own history, distinct traditions, and patterns of daily life.
Padma is one of the biggest river of Bangladesh. Many fishing villages are growing around Padma. Fishing is their main profession. They do it from generation by generations. But nowadays the community has changed gradually. Due to the decrease in fishing grounds and fishery resources, members of the fishing communities have tended to leave their traditional occupation in search of other jobs. I worked on two fishing village name Bagra and Vaggokul at Mounsigong, mostly the villagers are Hindu religious. Once the villages are big but for the river collision it’s going smaller.For the last five years i try to document these communities daily lifestyle, believe and cultural activities which is lost day by day.
“When I brought Shabjal to Dhaka from Manikganj for his treatment, he didn’t want to let go of my hands because he was afraid of getting lost. my sweetheart is lost forever… now wherever i go i carry this picture, i feel he is with me.”
Shahida Begum, Shabjal’s mother Shabjal,
died of thalassaemia, at the age of 14,
on shraban 7, 1414
Many mothers like Shahida Begum are just living with the memories of their lost loved ones. Hundreds of thousands of parents fight every moment to survive their children suffering from thalassaemia.
Ballads of the agonized souls is a combination of some still-life images and portraits. The still-live images contain the memories of the lost ones and the portraits represent the brave fighters who are fighting a battle against this deadly disease. According to a publication of world health organization (who) roughly 11.2 million people are thalassaemia carriers and 7,483 children are born with the disease every year with expected 3,74,154 living patients in Bangladesh. but most of the people in our country are not aware of it!
I am not a physician. nor a specialist about thalassaemia disease. rather merely a photographer. i only know that this fatal disease can be prevented. a mass consciousness is necessary to do that. I have been photographing people affected by the deadly disease for last two years. my intention of doing this project is to explore the real scenario as much as i can. the battle against this disease cannot be fought alone. a social movement is required to uproot thalassaemia where the government, media, physicians, guardians, patients and everyone will have roles to play. my effort is just to be a part of this cohesive battle.