The bloody rebirth of free Bangladesh: A hope for a better tomorrow

I have never dreaded my work, I love my job as a journalist, but the last few days have been taxing to say the least, not because of the sheer amount of news pieces we had to work on but because of all the deaths we had to witness to get here. The race is not over yet, but to think that the unchecked killings of innocent people has come to an end gives me some semblance of relief.

What pained me the most is that the path to this freedom is marked by the bodies of hundreds.

In the last few days leading up to 5 August, every day would be a series of deaths and injuries piling up one after another. As a sub-editor our job is to bring you the news swiftly while ensuring authenticity so before publishing each news, we have to make sure every detail is ironclad. This involves a series of back and forths with reporters and confirming every detail with great care. This also meant, we had to deal with some very gory details and most importantly witness some harrowing photos which have scarred me for life.

Being somewhat of a softhearted person I have not mastered the art of disassociating myself from news yet and casualties this close to home always takes a toll. With each death my heart would sink and I had to stop myself from losing my cool and compose myself so I can bring the news to you.

Each death was not just a number, each of them matter. Since the first death on 16 July, the number of deaths has crossed 500 with at least 100 deaths yesterday alone. All of the deaths could not even be verified as many bodies could not even be found.

Sleepless nights became the new normal. Duty was not confined to 7-hour shifts anymore, as I felt those on the streets deserved all our attention. All eyes were on those who brought the light and all I could do to give my conscience somewhat relief was bring forth as much information to the people.

Confined to the desk till 3 August, it felt like the days were a one big blur of deaths and injuries without an end in sight. I finally found the courage to join the protest at Shaheed Minar on 3 August, which gave me a perspective and hope, hope for a better tomorrow.

It's 3pm on 5 August, with jittery emotions I sat in front of the TV to witness history. However, the Army chief's address to the nation which was initially scheduled for 2pm was again delayed by an hour.

That is when we heard the news of Sheikh Hasina fleeing the country. I couldn't hold on any longer, I headed out for the office to witness the Army chief's address to the nation.

Little did I know the people already knew what was coming and was already celebrating the end of an autocratic rule that had gripped the nation the last 15 years.

Stepping out to the streets of Mohammadpur on 5 August, sky looked bluer, the air felt cleaner, and the voices felt freer. The happiness I felt can never be expressed in words. I haven't witnessed 16 December, but I am sure yesterday was as close as it gets. Decades of muffled voices screamed in joy.

People were storming the Ganobhaban as what I could only describe as a symbolic way claiming something that's ours. The sea of people meant going to office was not an option anymore, but divine intervention has a way of presenting itself at the right time. I would have missed a once in a life time moment had I not left for office. As the day progressed, the relief slowly turned to jittery nervousness and finally happiness.

Since I started my career as a journalist I have yet to experience absolute freedom of speech. Self-censorship - choosing what we can say and what we cannot – has become second nature.

The fall of the Awami League regime has presented us with the opportunity to build the nation brick by brick again and freedom of expression is something that we must fight for.

We still have a long way to go.

The days ahead will be trying, but I sure pray and hope no more lives have to be sacrificed to ensure basic human rights.