Archive - Apr 23, 2013

It was how it usually looked like, all quiet from the outside. Although the windows and doors of the Doulatpur Brajalal College were all shut tight, there was a peacefulness in that silence. Looking at the tall grass that had grown into a waist-high jungle, and the cattle sitting in the shades of the trees under the winter sun, one could hardly realize that the country was flooding in a blood-bath. If you listened carefully in all this silence, you could even hear the echo of the warmth of life going on from the nearby bazaar. It wasn't impossible to hear the strangely grave sounds of the rising tide inside the people, like that of the long dried up river, The Bhairab.