 Hi, welcome to my coffee time. I hope you are going to join me to lip with your coffee or tea. So today is the April 27th, 2020, and this day holds a big memory for me. The memory of reaching Bangladesh, my home country, after almost a month of turning across Pakistan, literally by foot. Memories are summer sweet, but this one hits me every April, like a giant wave in the sea that splashes and crashes against the rocks and sprays out in white foam, back to its sea, the mother, but the waves that leave the water behind, these are like my memories. They come and go, but at the same time, I'm so thankful that after what could have been the end of a life, have carried me through to this day when I can tell you my story. So when Bangladesh gained its independence in 1971, 16 December is our victory day. It had waged into nine month long war against the West Pakistani forces. At that time it was the East Pakistan and the West Pakistan. So we were the East Pakistanis stranded in Pakistan at that time because my father was working. And the West Pakistan wasn't being fair to the people of East Pakistan in more than 100 days socially, economically, and they were even taking our language away. So the Bangladesh rose to protest, which culminated into the war of independence. So I was in grade nine then, and my family, my parents and my only brother, we got stuck in the western wing after Bangladesh became independent. In 1971, we stayed at home. This COVID-19 days reminds me so much of those times. When we were stuck home, we didn't have schools, no office for my father, no going out, literally we stayed home. It wasn't too safe to go out because at that time it was like living in the enemy land because Pakistan was waging. The western wing was against our independence. So we stayed home speculating our future, what would happen then. Around January of 1973, almost two years after our liberation in 1971, the Pakistani government started gathering civilians, that is my father, who was a civilian government service, into camps. At that time, my father and many other Bengalis who were stuck there decided to escape. And we took the way in which we had to pay for our fare and pay the smugglers who carried goods across the border to carry us across Pakistan to Afghanistan. So in the morning of a week of April, 1973, we started from our home pretending to be going to the hospital. And like a movie, we were told that when you reach the hospital, you wait for 20 minutes and then come out. There will be a car waiting for you and with certain numbers we are given for the number plate. So we went to the hospital and after 20 minutes as directed, we went out and found the car waiting with that particular number plate. So we started our journey. Meanwhile in the other car was the family of Uncle Ali and his children. We were starting together, but not in the same car. As soon as the car was ready, we were settled. My father in the front, me in the middle, my mother on one side, my brother on one side, the car started. We didn't have a chance to ask the driver who was already inside anything else. And before that, in fact, we had been directed by the smugglers who had arranged our scheme that we were not to ask any questions, but to follow apart from health or food, no identity questions for the safety of us all. By the end of the day, we reached the borders of the northwest frontier. It was then and we were about to cross into that region when I saw from my point where I was sitting in the middle. The road was clear. A place that called was written check post. I was watching and I saw two guards who had guns with them, signal us to stay. So our driver slowed that car and almost when it was around maybe 100 or 200 feet away, he stopped. So the guards had to put their guns on the back on the shoulder and started walking towards us. Just then all of a sudden our driver pushed the gas pedal full. So we just literally jumped up and I was looking at the back and I saw one of the guards lift the gun to shoot at us. For the first time I heard the driver's voice, head down, he said and I drove down. When I was up and we were still running, I knew we were alive. The first excitement, but trust me it wasn't the sound of music where the family was escaping. It was real life and so this began the first day of the journey. It's a long journey and it's going to be quite difficult to tell it all. But I will mention two more incidents along that journey before we reached our homeland on this very day, 27th April 1973. Around the third or second peak of our journey we were caught by a group of rebel villagers. They took us, the whole gang of the people who were escaping. We were by then around 47 of us and put us in a huge room or a burn-like place. All the men on one side and the women on the other side, women and children that is. And they had a huge bonfire burning in between. Where men with turbines and knives and guns set smoking hookahs and laughing and talking away. I thought that was the end, I mean they were planning to kill us. It was night time and towards the dawn we stayed there trying to understand what's going to happen to us. Towards the dawn the men folk were taken out one by one. I saw my father being taken and started to cry. I didn't know if he was coming back. As we waited after a long time all the men folk were brought back. And we learned that they had to give their watches and the money for ransom so that this enemy tribe would let us continue on our journey. So the women who were all wearing gold bangles and earrings started to open them up to give them to our captors. But the captors when they offered the gold said, No no no, Zanaka ne lenge wo mata hai, maa hai. It was so amazing that they didn't want to take gold from women because they are the mothers. I learned a lesson, yes those men likelihood might be smuggling but they had some ethics, some respect for women which even many civilized societies don't have. That is one incident and the other day we were crossing the two mountains around the second peak. We were on the top of some horse-like things, baby donkeys. But I was also one of them and feeling rather happy because I had wanted to ride horses all my life. This was the first time I was in the back of something that looked like a horse. Towards the, it was very hot and towards the afternoon we were out of water. We were 47 in the group by then because other fleeing Bengalis have joined our group and we had small children who were crying because we didn't have any water. At that time we were supposed to be following the guides to the right side but my donkey started going to the left side of the mountain, other donkeys following. So when we reached the top the donkey dug into the sand and as I watched water poured into the little tiny hole the donkey has created. First it was a bit muddy then the soil settled back in no time and there was clear spring water. I fell on the floor, on the sand and drank. I watched my donkey drinking beside me, looking at me. Aha! You call yourself humans. So we are saving your life. Yes, the donkeys that have saved our life we would have truly perished if we didn't have water. We didn't have water and we couldn't go to any villages and we were nearby because the Pakistani government had announced a big money for every Bengali that was caught on the way while we were journey to our motherland. So this will be all for today. But I would like you, my dear viewers, if you wish to go to the website immersedcollective.org, true life story contest, winner, flight to motherland. Read the full story there. I wish I could tell the whole story but the time is always a factor and no time before I think we realize how much we can really do when we wish to do. Like how can I thank Amarst Media that I'm running my show, recording at home and sending them. And Faith Gregory who is always there to help me out. And thanks to Jody Jenkins who took the story and published in the Amarst Collective True Life Story Contest. Till we meet again, stay safe. Once again the website to check for my real life story contest is Amarst Collective.org, true life story contest, winner, flight to motherland. I hope you can find it and read it. Thank you for being there. Thank you Amarst Media and it's a great team.