‘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

During my whole life I kept my mouth shut to be a good woman. I accepted my fate and all those abuses my entire life but I never could forgive myself. I was ashamed of myself but I couldn’t tell anyone; when at the age of 4 my mother’s own brother used to touch me in bad ways. My mother believed him and even gave me to him to take care of. I couldn’t fight back when my father’s cousin raped me while coming back from school at the age of 5. Crying in pain I told my elder sister. She said, “Do not tell anyone; people will call you a bad girl!” I couldn’t tell my father that the rickshaw puller he reserved for me for my safety to take me to school put his hands in the wrong places when he helped me to get down from the rickshaw. I Told my mother about it and my mother changed the rickshaw driver but she didn’t share it with my father and told me not to share it with anyone. She said, “People will call you bad!” I never could complain to anyone when my school teacher used to touch my back. I could never forget all the abuses that happened to me. I never used to go in front of my uncles when I became a young woman ever again. I was scared of every man in my life.

Every woman dreams about their wedding and their husband. I was also not different from them. But all my dreams were crushed badly as well as all my expectations when on my wedding night I got raped again by my own drunk husband. Even I couldn’t say anything when he brought his friend to my room one night for money. During my pregnancy I used to pray to God, “Please don’t give me a girl because I know she will have to go through all these things I have been tolerating my whole life. But I became the mother of a girl 10 years ago. I never let her hide from my eyes for a minute. I took her everywhere. But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut when that night my husband brought a man into my daughter’s room. I started yelling and screaming insanely. All my anger that I had been carrying my whole life came out as my greatest strength. I couldn’t control myself and took the dagger to stab my husband and the man. They both ran away. I complained to the police and for the last year my husband has been in jail. People call me a bad woman. They say that to me because I had my husband put in jail. I don’t feel shame, rather I feel good when they call me a bad woman. It took 32 years to gather the courage to become a bad woman and shout out for my respect and my dignity._Nazma Begum

Last year I had a strange passenger in my rickshaw who was very worried about something. He was roaming around from one location to another in my rickshaw like a distraught and insane man for almost two hours. I was very afraid to ask him what the problem was that he is going through? I am a poor uneducated man and he was in a very bad mood. Finally, I discovered when he started to talk on his phone that his wife was in very critical condition in the emergency room. She needed the group type A- blood as soon as possible, otherwise it would be very difficult to save her life. After some time when he dropped his phone, with hesitation I softly asked him, “Baba, would you mind if I ask you to take my blood? I tested my blood last year for an illness and I am aware that I have the same blood type A- that you need for your wife. I am a very honest person with no bad habits and I pray 5 times a day. My only problem is that I am a poor man. Do you have problems taking the blood of a poor person and would you let me give my blood to your wife?” That man, whom I was feeling very afraid of asking a minute ago, started sobbing uncontrollably holding me closely. He hugged me so tightly that I could feel how broken he was at that moment.

Heroes are not born but they become heroes by their acts and deeds. A Hero is someone to whom you look up to when you are in trouble; someone who always bails you out of your troubles with a smiling face. There are still some good people left in this world who fill this planet with goodness, optimism and hope; people who make this world a better place to live in. Anybody can be a hero. Someone who helps an old lady or a small child cross a busy road or someone who earns coins for the sake of their mother’s medicines or someone who labours hard for his daughter’s food and education are also all heroes.

Yes, I am telling you about ‘The heroes of our time’; the heroes of our everyday lives and their journeys helping us with every drop of their blood and sweat in order to make our daily lives a little easier. Most are people who are performing acts of kindness or helping others and expecting nothing in return. Many have known defeat, suffering, and struggling yet they possess beautiful stories in their hearts; stories which are worthy enough to share with the world. Abdul Razzak, Fruk Mia, and Nurun Nabi are ordinary rickshaw pullers whose stories touched everyone’s heart. Their kind and heroic acts made them ‘heroes of our time’.

Here, I am sharing 10 real life stories of ‘Rickshaw pullers’ that have become the inspiration for thousands of people all over the world.

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

It is very hard to drive a rickshaw with just my one arm. But I can’t stand to see my family in hunger and I want to continue my children’s education. I can’t manage to drive more than 4 to 5 hours each day with one hand. I can only save very little after paying the rent for my rickshaw. Sometimes I have so much pain because of trying to balance the rickshaw single-handedly!

Just 12 days before the accident that took my arm, I came from Sherpur to Dhaka to earn my dream. I left my two children and my wife Kohinur at our village. It was Monday night and it was scorching hot even during the middle of the night. There was not a single leaf moving. I was sleeping in my rickshaw van after an entire day’s work. It was around 2 am and suddenly a loaded vegetable truck smashed into my van and my left arm. After that I can’t remember anything for the next 25 days. I heard that the butchers from the closest market took me to hospital. They paid for my operations! My wife had to sell her earrings, the only gold jewelry she had as well as the two cows we bought with our 3 years of savings.

When I came back from hospital, my only fear was how to feed my children. I am so grateful to God that he saved one of my arms and did not let me end up begging. God gave me courage to continue doing hard work and pulling this rickshaw._Deloyar Hossain (36)

It became dark suddenly and started raining heavily with strong winds and lightning ! Everyone was running here and there for shelter and searching transportation. I saw an old lady almost soaked with rain requesting rikshaw pullers to take her, telling them she had no money but she needed to go to Sadarghat. Everybody told her rudely to go away. Nobody was interested in taking her in their vehicles without money. Seeing that, I told her to come to my rikshaw. I took her and pulled her to Sadarghat. After arriving there she started crying. She said, “I heard my grandson is severely sick but I have no money at this moment to pay for your rikshaw ride. You saw how I was requesting a ride from everyone but nobody agreed to take me without money. I don’t know how to repay your kindness!”

Every day I help at least one person who has no money but needs to go to some place. Every night I give a ride to some disabled beggar to their home for free. These are the beggars who have nobody and who are very poor. I never say no and I never take money from them.

I don’t take money from people who are in a critical situation because one night my daughter, Fatema, was very sick and I had no money at that moment. At that time I used to work as a day labourer. I asked many rikshaw pullers and taxi drivers to take me to the hospital but nobody helped me. Nobody gave us a ride because I had no money. Covered only with a polythene sheet I walked 15 km to the hospital alone holding my 5-year-old daughter during that rainy, windy, dark night. That night walking all the way I was just thinking one thing: that I will at least help one person everyday who is helpless like me.

After that incident I started riding rikshaw and I never say no to anybody who has no money. After my work every night till midnight, I search for people who need help. I don’t know that my small effort will help people or not but I know that at least they will not feel helpless for that particular moment _Faruk

It always felt bizarre to me when my mother sent me to go to door to door asking for salt, chili, onion every day. It was almost impossible for us to cook without collecting spices from neighbors. Believe me, when I used to ask them for salt sometimes, from their looks it felt like I was asking for their heart or kidneys. Why shouldn’t they react? They were also poor and they knew that I had no ability to return their salt and chili that I was taking from them almost every day.

My mother is really old now. She is having a lot of physical problems. I drive a rickshaw the entire day so that I can manage to send her 4-5 thousand taka in money every month for her medicine and food. Between my jobs I try to pray for my mother 5 times every day. I never skip my prayers to God for my mother. My father died and left me along with my four other sisters when we were very young. I have been working the last 20 years for my family. I used to make only 15 taka a day when I was merely 9. I wished to grow up every day. I wanted to grow up in order to earn more money for my family. I have given marriages to my two elder sisters and my two younger sisters are going to school. I wake up every day at dawn for morning prayers and it helps me to drive the rickshaw for some extra hours and with that extra money I try to help with my sisters’ education. I could not go to school but I am trying my best to fulfill their own expectations for reading and studying as much they want. For that I can work every day some more hours.

I have nothing without my mother. My mother is everything to me. I visited my mother last month and took her a green saree. She loves wearing the color green. She never told me she loves green. But from the very beginning I have been seeing her wearing green sarees. You can’t imagine how happy she was seeing that saree. Her condition is not good at all. I don’t want to lose her too. She is the only umbrella over our heads. I always pray to God to please take me before her death because I might not bear the pain of losing her. – Nurun Nabi 30.

Last year I had a strange passenger in my rickshaw who was very worried about something. He was roaming around from one location to another in my rickshaw like a distraught and insane man for almost two hours. I was very afraid to ask him what the problem was that he is going through? I am a poor uneducated man and he was in a very bad mood. Finally, I discovered when he started to talk on his phone that his wife was in very critical condition in the emergency room. She needed the group type A- blood as soon as possible, otherwise it would be very difficult to save her life. After some time when he dropped his phone, with hesitation I softly asked him, “Baba, would you mind if I ask you to take my blood? I tested my blood last year for an illness and I am aware that I have the same blood type A- that you need for your wife. I am a very honest person with no bad habits and I pray 5 times a day. My only problem is that I am a poor man. Do you have problems taking the blood of a poor person and would you let me give my blood to your wife?” That man, whom I was feeling very afraid of asking a minute ago, started sobbing uncontrollably holding me closely. He hugged me so tightly that I could feel how broken he was at that moment.

I gave my blood at the emergency room and it took 2 hours for everything. But during those two hours I felt like a very special person to everyone as well as to myself; something I had never felt before. That man didn’t ask me if he could give me money because he didn’t want to buy my blood; rather he asked me if he could call me ‘Father’. I never felt so precious and valuable before that moment. Giving my blood that day changed my view of seeing my life as a poor inferior man. I don’t feel poor anymore knowing that I have the same blood to save a rich person’s life_ Abdul Razzak

Poor people like me have no rest in their life; no retirement. Our lives are miserable. We have to work even just before going to the graveyard. If I will not work even one day my whole family have to suffer for that whole day. I am 65 years old and for me now riding rickshaw during this heavy rain is very difficult work. Sometimes my whole body gets wet even though I wear a plastic coat. At those times I feel so cold that I can’t breathe nor even stand-up. When it’s raining with heavy winds then it’s even more difficult for me to pull the rickshaw because I need a lot more energy to drag the rickshaw through the wind. My plastic coat protects some parts of my body but my face, hands and feet get wet all the time. My hands and feet get so severally cold that they feel bloodless and numb. 

I don’t stop riding rickshaw during the rain because at that time some passengers give me extra money. Yesterday, a father was looking for a rickshaw with his daughter for going to school for a while. There was no rickshaw on the street because it was raining heavily. I was sitting in a tea stall’s shed beside the stove to warm myself up. I was very tired and cold. I was not able to ride anymore that morning after getting wet from the early morning rides. But when I saw they are getting wet and waiting for a long time, I could not stop myself even if I was already so cold and weak. I took them to school and the father and daughter were so grateful to me. When I reached the front of the school, the girl took a 500 taka note from her father and gave it to me and told me dadu ( grand father ) buy something for yourself. I took iftar and bazar for my family with that money. 

During this Ramadan I still need to work. And I cannot be fasting. I was fasting during the first Ramadan. But my wife and two daughters never miss their fasting nor prayers. If I will fast I will not be able to work and earn for their Sehery food. I hope Allah will forgive me for my sacrifice and will grant my family blessings for their fasting and prayers_ Borhan Uddin

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)

Papiya asked me to leave before she become weak to leave me. She told me to go somewhere, where she will never be able to come, or find me again. None of us cried. We knew that was the last time we were seeing each other. I moved from my neighbour’s village silently. I walked very slowly to remember everything of my life. I and Papiya used to go to school together. The field I was passing was the place where one day I fainted after seeing a snake. Papiya was always brave, she took that snake in a stick and throw into the water. I laughed a lot by thinking about all those stupid things. Both of us are very poor. Many days, our families are unable to eat anything other than rice. During flood we starved countless days. And then Papiya was chosen by a rich family, she will be able to take care her siblings and sick mother after her marriage. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted to tell her to come with me and fly somewhere. But then I could not. I wanted to see her happy even at the cost of leaving me. When I explained her how much I wanted her happiness, she did not respond. She only asked me, ‘is that the suffering of food is greater than suffering of love?’ I was silent and when I saw tears in her eyes, for the first and last time, I lovingly touched her cheeks. It’s been six months, I am in the city, riding rickshaw and sleeping here and there. Papiya is married and gone far. In this life, I will never be able to love someone as like I loved her. When we were giving SSC exam she gave me an amulet so I never feel fear. This is the only thing I tied in my hand and carry all the time. We promised that we will never meet each other again, we will never talk. Half of the year has gone. She will never know that in my mind every second I am talking to her. I talk to her, question her, laugh and cry with her. It’s hard to stop this, it’s hard to forget. – Rafiq (19)

If I had not started pulling a rickshaw in 2014 for the first time in my life, my education would have stopped at that point. I started driving a rickshaw when I was in class eight. Now I am doing a diploma on Textile Engineering of Garment designing in Dinajpur.

This time I came for ten days to drive a Rickshaw during Eid festival time. During this Eid festival people pay a little more. After earning 10 thousand taka in 10 days I will be going back and continuing my education. I need 6000 taka for each semester and 4000 taka for other expenses for my education. My institution gave me 60% waiver when they came to know that I am driving a rickshaw to support my education.

I am the only one from my entire village who came to Dhaka to drive a Rickshaw to pay for education. In the beginning my friends were laughing at me all the time, but I made them understand how important my education is and after my graduation I want to be a textile engineer. My friends are so proud of me nowadays and two of them want to follow my path to continue their education.

My mother worries about me a lot, after I came to this big city. My mother calls me several times a day and keeps asking me what I eat, what I am doing, which makes me so weak and fragile. I sometimes feel like going back home for my mother. That is the reason most of the time I keep my mobile phone switched off so she can’t call me and I can be stronger and continue the rest of the days.

Yesterday was Eid day and I worked until late at night, I missed my parents so much. This is the first time I passed my Eid without my mother. This the first time I could not touch my mother’s feet and get blessings from her after returning from prayers._ Akheruzzaman 18

My mother always hid something from me. I also tried to find out what she was hiding from me. In village when we went to any function, people pointed at me and talked to each other by saying how unfortunate boy I was. When I told that to my mother, she cried nervously and asked me what I came to know. I said, ‘nothing’, then she hugged me and asked me never to believe anyone. Whenever she spoke those things I felt very afraid and assured her I will never believe anyone. One day I heard my father fighting with my mother for spending money on me. He blamed her for being a bad woman, blamed for caring for a child whose mother left him. That day I came to know, I was three months old when my biological mother left me. My adopted mother brought me at home without any ones support. When my mother knew that I heard everything, she cried a lot, she took me on her arms and told me that she was my mother, asked me not to believe anyone. I was ten years old, only understood I was the problem for my mother; Only understood everyone believed I was an unfortunate boy. After some days of that incident I flew from my village.

When I arrived to the city, I was just ten. The place, it’s people and my life was strange to me. When I was crying by sitting alone in the bridge, Falan, Sumon , Jewel called me and let me to sleep with them. During first night I cried a lot, no one stopped me and some cried with me too. I did not cry for the mother who left me, I cried for my mother whom I missed every minute, even missing now at this moment. I cannot forget her, she is always here, in my heart. Every year I go to visit her. No one else likes to see me except her. When I enter in the house Ammu holds me like I am a little baby. I feel awkward and tell her not to love me this much. Last time she cried a lot, told me how much she prays so I can find happiness and love. I told her I have found enough love. I have friends who have no one just like me. We earn and spend together; we fight during day and sleep on each other’s hand at night. I have my own family now, a different family, where we do not have to tell anyone who is our parents or where do we belong. We just have us and enough love. – Raju (17)

An estimated 693,000 Rohingya have been driven into Bangladesh (as of April 2018). Over half of them are children who have fled following an extreme escalation of violence, with most now living in flimsy plastic tents in overcrowded camps in Cox’s Bazar. When hundreds of thousands of terrified Rohingya refugees began flooding onto the beaches and paddy fields of southern Bangladesh, it was the children – who made up nearly 60 percent of their number – who caught most of the attention of many people. 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 one. Today, there are an estimated 720,000 Rohingya children in Bangladesh and Myanmar, in dire need of humanitarian assistance and protection – and looking to the outside world for help.

Children deserve to grow up in a world free from fear, surrounded by those who love them—enabling them to live life in all its fullness.  The world would be shocked by seeing the conditions that the children living in the refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar are facing, instead. Make no mistake that this crisis is a children’s emergency. These children’s worlds have been torn apart brutally. They have gone suddenly from living in a community where they know the neighborhood, having close friends, a routine, a good variety of food and safe places to play to a chaotic, overcrowded and frightening unknown place. Many are orphaned and lost, living in a perpetual state of anxiety. After all this, we cannot expect Rohingya children to overcome the traumatic experiences they’ve suffered when further exposed to insecurity and fears of violence in the camps. But at least we can pray and ask for help for these children’s safety and a better future.

Sharing here with you some heart-wrenching images of Rohingya children who have experienced unforgettable misery, violence, pain and anguish in their short lives. These images will melt your soul forever. Alone, distressed, terrified but hopefully not abandoned by the world at large.

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

From the beginning of my career I have been working for those people who are living on the edge of society. When I started working with these people I surprisingly discovered that – life has taken all colours from them, but they are still cherishing every moment of their life with colour. Colour is their courage; colour creates enthusiasm for them to fight in order to live for another day. A person, who has nothing, has colour in life. In the beginning of my career, I took all black & white photographs of those who were colourful.  I found out poverty, sorrow and depression become vivid if I skip colour from their lives.

Sharing a few of my colour works and the people who always inspired me to become a colour photographer as well as to live a colourful life.

Presently, I have been working in colour. A street child, a labourer on a road or even a homeless lady – all of them have colour. People who are fighting everyday to live life are heroes to me and these heroes represent colour. Their skin tone, their clothes, their living places all are colourful and powerful. They are deprived from all happiness in life but yet they are treating themselves with colour. While I discover the truth I learned to capture the mood of colour on them.

By capturing these colour moments, I have learned that –a few hints of red, blue and yellow gives inspiration to our lives. People who are fighting for survival without anything in this world are healing their pains by indulging in colour.

“It’s been 12 years that I have been familiar to them; not only as a photographer but also as a brother. Whenever I go there, they run towards me calling out “Akash Bhai!” They bring me sweets, tea and speaks and talk a lot about their dreams. These girls are weak from lack of affection.  I once treated them as sisters so now they have granted me the honour of being their brother. No one knows the story of these faceless girls who are sold by their boyfriend, husband or parents. This is a one-way journey to a brothel; a place that is everything to them. By documenting them, I would like to spread their stories of pain which are only locked in each of their own madam’s castle. I recall one girl from those uncountable faces. Unsurprisingly – and despite her name – Asha, she isn’t very hopeful about her own future. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get married nor have children,’ she says. ‘No one will marry me. If they did, they’d only keep me for two or three days, and then they’d sell me back.’ She is more streetwise than some of the other girls here, many of whom share a tragic dream that one day a knight in shining armour will arrive to carry them off; then they will marry him, have his babies and love him forever. I wish there would be a knight in shining armour arriving, to carry them out from this living hell! I do wish this.  I really wish it!” – GMB Akash

Sharing 10 souls and heart melting stories of 10 sisters who work as sex workers in different brothels in Bangladesh.

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

I came here eight years ago because once I believed in love and married the man, for whom I became a prostitute. My husband of one year brought me here and sold me to this brothel for money. For the last 7 years I have had to work here to repay that 30 thousand taka,for which my husband sold me here.

I used to call our madam ‘Maa’. She is very generous to me and loves me like her daughter and for that I got the chance to repay the money and leave here. She allowed me to go back to my former life. Last year, with thousands of dreams, I went back to my village to my parents’ home, but nobody accepted me; neither my parents, nor my family members, nor the villagers. They didn’t allow me into my own home nor into the village because they think I am a dirty thing now, they said, “even we don’t eat that food when it falls down to the ground.” Some people were saying, “we never take back the dirt from our dustbin!” I cried the whole day and night till the next morning sitting beside my home, but no one cared and they were looking at me with hatred. But you know, when I saw my husband remarried and living in the same village, I came back to my ‘maa and my Hell.

At least this Hell allows me to live: to survive, to eat, to have space where I can sleep at night. Here I don’t need to see that cruel hatred for me in the eyes of my loved one_ Nilima

I never wanted to be a mother in my life. My grandma was a sex worker; my mother is a sex worker, so this is not an exception for me. This is the oldest profession of our family; this is a chain that is ongoing. I have wanted to break this chain all of my life by not becoming a mother. But you know what? It’s very hard to stop the cycle of nature! I saw all of my mother’s pain being a sex worker. I saw how she felt standing in the same alley with me searching for customers. I know how it feels sharing the same customer who would sleep with your daughter the next day. I saw her attempting suicide in our room; fortunately, she survived.

I never wanted to be a mother but when I realized that I was pregnant, my mind changed tremendously; I didn’t want to kill my child. Everyone told me to get an abortion but I could not do it. Our madam pressured me for an abortion but I was protecting my baby with all the energy I had. Madam called the Babu, who used to come to me the most and who had once promised me that he would marry me! She told him that this might be his child and that I could blackmail him anytime! Babu beat me ruthlessly and tried to force me (to abort from his beating OR to have an abortion) but I convinced him to stop by embracing his feet and begging him for the life of my child. I signed a contract and assured him that I will never want anyone’s name for my child.

Becoming a mother is not an easy task in these brothels. Lots of women have died because of improper treatment. I had to battle a lot every day with pregnancy sickness and at the same time, I had to attend to my target customers. Some people are very ruthless and ill minded; they like pregnant women for their own indulgence and entertainment. I prayed to God for a baby boy during the whole period of my pregnancy but it’s a girl again in our family. God didn’t listen to me. Everyone is telling me this will happen again. But I am determined to get her out from this Hell. After all of this, I am not deterred from my goal; I will break this woeful chain. If a mother wants a good life for her child, nothing can stop her_ shopna

Everyone says we are bad women because we do this work; because we are sex workers. Yes, you people are right. I have never seen someone doing prostitution as a hobby in our community in my life. No one choses prostitution as a hobby. But I have seen a lot of people who have wives and family come to me for fun to indulge themselves. I was born here and started my job at the age of eight. My mother tried a lot to send me somewhere safe. She cried day and night to send me somewhere else away from this brothel. But our madam didn’t permit it because I was in such demand for a lot of clients from the beginning because of my age and youthfulness. It’s very difficult to work in front of your mother but here luckily, every woman learns the trick to kill your soul and become a dead body.

I wait hours for my clients and during these hours I have nowhere to sit. I need to stand for hours and do bodily movements and use vulgar slang in order to get a client. I look so skinny so last month my madam started giving me some tablets that make me look fat and sexy. Men choose young and healthy workers because they complain that old workers are depressing. Getting a client is also like winning a battle because I have to compete with other workers and reach my target: ‘8 clients per night’. But when I get a client it is a mixed feeling as if I have won the battle but lost at the same time. I make my living and buy my food by selling my body and dignity.

Because I have to stand the whole time, for hours my leg hurts badly when I go to sleep. We can’t take an extra minute for eating, bathing or even using the toilet. If you are late for an extra minute you will get some slaps for a bonus. We can only get some time for sitting when we put our makeup on. It feels exhausting after finishing my target every night. I get such a small portion of food that even after finishing my full meal, I feel hungry all night. I never have seen a family in my life. I wish someone would marry me so that I could have a family. – Maya

I can recall the first incident of sexual harassment in my life. My mother and I were used to learning the Quran from our Moulovi every evening after finishing all our work. That evening my mother fell asleep because of her sickness so I had to sit alone with him to learn my Arabic lesson. Suddenly I was feeling uneasy. I felt that he was touching my right hand in a bad way. Although I was only an eight-year-old girl I could understand the bad vibes of his touching. I was shaking in fear and started feeling like something was stuck in my throat. I held my tears and ran to our washroom and started washing my hand with soap like a mad girl. I washed my hand for the next two hours nonstop crying relentlessly until my mother made me understand that this will never happen again.

I came here because I am a misfortunate woman; if it was not my bad luck then how can I lose both of my parents in a rail station? There was one porter who found me and he helped me to search for my parents the whole day and then waited til dusk. But I found no one; I never found them again just like I never find my luck. I lived for the next few days with the porter family who found me but his wife never liked me. She started fighting with him about me every single day. The last evening in that home she handed me over to her brother and he brought me here. It all happened like the worst possible dream I was having and it was happening in my life.

The first day, I did not allow my client to open my dress. He got so angry and tried so hard that he tore apart all my clothes but he could not manage me. After that incident my madam beats me miserably and for the next three days she forced me to sleep naked and locked me without food in a room. On day four I got my food and a new client but I didn’t get my clothes back for several days. After that day I accepted my fate. I accepted men in my room and in my life. But I could not accept men in my soul. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m being raped every night several times. It feels I can no longer live this life for one more day and be raped by a stranger in exchange for money and a living.

Every single day I am passing in this dark hell only with the help of the cheapest drugs provided by our madam. Now I don’t wash myself anymore because no one is here to tell me this will never happen again. I don’t cry because no one will tell me to stop crying and hold me to her chest tightly. Now I am learning to die every day_ Ovagi (unlucky)

It’s been a long time I want to go to a very green field. I have never been in any green field. But I really want to go. I have a disease, I cannot breathe behind a closed door. I also cry while I laugh, I can’t control. It’s causing a lot of trouble to our mother. Our mother is our madam. I assured her I will be okay very soon, I will only laugh, will never cry. How I came to this brothel, I have no idea; I was too small to remember anything. But my only problem is, it’s very difficult to breathe here. Also I have no memory of any person; I do not see any face when I close my eyes, I feel all alone. Girls used to say they have no one too. But I tell myself, I must have someone, somewhere, may be a mother, a father or a lost family. I never had anyone to remember. So I try hard to remember a face, just any face, and there comes no one. My friend, Prinyanka usually wipes off my tears very quickly before I ruin my makeup. She always reminds me, makeup is costly than my tears. She told me that one day we will go to a green field, she will take me there and I will breathe as much as I can. Only I hope, on that day I will be able to see someone when I will close my eyes. At least once in my life, I want to feel that I am not alone.
– Afsana

It has been ages since I went out of these four walls. These dirty walls are as colorless as I am. Light has never been able to enter my room or my life. The windows are too narrow for that. I helplessly scream in pain but my voice never reaches anyone, not even myself. Everyone sees me smiling because no one ever pays attention to my eyes. Even after all these battles, I remained a fancy girl. I ask people to bring me flowers, only those which has no fragrance. I never look in the mirror because I was never capable of looking into the eyes of this girl; this girl crying within me. I was sold by my husband for 3000 taka. I laughed a lot when I found that out how cheap the price of my love was to him. For me, the price of my love was very high, and I’m still paying for it. Sometimes it’s very hard to breathe. I want to dry my tears under the sun, or maybe get wet in the rain and let my tears flow with it. But where should I go? Who should I go to? No one waits for a prostitute. I cannot go anywhere. Now, I try to trust the lies, try to smile, and try to sell my love at good price. – Asha

I am a liar. All my life I lied to myself. Whenever my heart shows me the truth, I beautifully lied to it. It’s very difficult for me to tell you the truth. I am also feeling nervous because I want you to show how strong I am, I do not want to show the dumb girl living inside me. I was sold when I was in my mother’s womb. They traded me before I was born. I was a born prostitute. I never had any friend, family or lover. No man looked into my eyes, or held my hand with love. But you know something; everyone needs someone, someone to love or someone to hurt. And I have no one. I sold my heart in the cost of lies without regret of suffering. Sometimes I feel, the time has stopped and I am sitting in the same place for ages. One day, I fell sick, very sick and I was taken to an old doctor. I was shivering in fever and started crying for no reason when the old man called me, ‘Maa, what’s your problem’. At the end of the prescription, he advised me to avoid things that are allergatic. I supposed to leave, but I was aimlessly sitting there. Then he asked me again to tell if I had something else to say. With great fear I asked him, ‘Sir, I am allergatic to love and lie, but that’s my life is all about, do you have any remedy?’ After a few minutes, the old doctor stood from his chair and blessed me by touching my head. That was the first time in my life someone touched me with respect and care. – Rubi

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

My uncle sold me in the brothel when I was nine, that time I was innocent. A type of innocent that I had no idea what is the difference between a mosque and a brothel….

A few days ago I was not in a mood for love, when my client was promising how much he loved me and how badly he wanted to take me away from this living hell to his beautiful heaven. With promises he kept telling me how badly he wanted to marry me; I was not up for drama that day, I just secretly dial his wife’s number from his phone. Then I continued to listen to him attentively, for solid thirty minutes in pin drop silence. When he asked me how I felt about him, I handover his phone and told him to ask his wife..

Yes, I am badass woman, I smoke, I sing, I dance. I’m tough and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, it’s okay. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself, which is enough. Now excuse me, your attention won’t pay my bills.
– Princess Lucky

I had a very bad habit of falling in love with people whenever they showed me some love. I never get any love from anyone; I don’t even remember my family members or where I come from. I get nothing except extreme torture to my body and humiliation from people during my whole life in this place. I have fallen in love several times with a lot of my Ford customers or with whoever showed me their love and some compassion for me. Lots of men promise me that they will marry me and give me a family and then cheat me with money and flee never to be seen again. Though I know men cannot be trusted and they have broken my heart so badly but somehow I believed them and fell in love again and again. I don’t fall in love anymore. Now I know love is not for us. We prostitutes don’t belong to ‘Love’. People don’t think of us as human beings; how could they possibly love us?

For the last week, a strange middle-aged man has been visiting me. He was holding a bag in his hand with different sarees and machine-made blouses every day. The first day he came with a red bridal saree and asked me to wear it. He showed me a photo of a woman and asked me to put on my makeup like her as much as possible. At first, I laughed at him but after seeing his seriousness, I tried to put on the makeup myself following that photo. It was a very funny experience for me. That man sat with me the rest of the night but said no words and did nothing to me. That night was a very uncommon night for me. Then the next day he came with another ordinary saree and asked me to wear that one. With hesitation, I asked why he was doing these kinds of strange acts every night. And I was not prepared for his answer. His wife fled with someone else after their love marriage and he never married again after that incident.

That day he told me a lot about himself and his story and we fell asleep together. For the last week he has been coming every night for the whole night only to sleep beside me. I don’t know why I am feeling worried. I think I fell in love again with that strange man. I have been waiting the whole day for him and for when it will get dark and my strange man will come. I am waiting for him, brother. Last night was a very bad night for me. I didn’t sleep the whole night waiting for him but he didn’t show up. I am eagerly waiting and wishing that he will show up tonight_Ontora

A timeless beautiful face has a strength that is everlasting. I am fascinated in capturing certain faces and some characters that are incredibly important to me as a photographer or as an admirer. I see the perpetual elegance of peoples’ faces and their human souls in the pictures I take. The journey of portraying these timeless faces started long ago when I found out there are certain people who are icons of heroism and charisma. Over and over I go back to them, find them and portray them again so that I am able to keep a part of these victorious souls with me. _GMB Akash

Featured first on my Facebook page: GMB Akash

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Every face is passing a message of anticipation. I have learned how to operate my photography equipment; I have studied how to take portraits and how to get the best environmental effect. But when I concentrate beyond technical things, these people become icons to me. I look into them through the lens and I try to put 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 mastery of getting timeless faces into a photograph. _GMB Akash

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!

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.

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)

‘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.

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

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.

“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