Why do fireflies have to die so soon?
As today marks four months since the end to the uprising which led to the fall of the Hasina regime, we take a moment to pay tribute to the graves of these fireflies that we wish to make proud
"Maa, I am just a kid. Who will shoot me?"
On 20 July, Hossein Mia stepped out of his home in the Muktinagar area of the capital.
He didn't quite fret over it. Even if he could fathom there was some unrest going on, the fact that a grown up could shoot and kill a child his age was the last thing on the 10-year-old's mind.
This would be his final encounter with his mother, when he had reassured her he'd be alright, probably back home just in time for dinner.
When all Hossein perhaps understood was that grown-ups were fighting amongst each other, he must have just been bored at home and all he wanted to do, like any other child, was go out to see what the fuss was about.
That's just how children think.
But the reality was far more grave than conceivable.
Hossein was shot twice, in the back and hip. His parents managed to find him in the morgue of Dhaka Medical College Hospital (DMCH), some 14-kilometres away from where they lived.
Hossein was taken away. Far too soon.
Like him, there were many other children who died in the crossfire that was the "36 bloody days of July".
In a feeble attempt to remember life before then in retrospect, we've all seen a winter where fireflies leisurely over a grass field.
To the innocent eyes, catching that glowing bug is a wonder.
The total death toll of children who were killed under various circumstances during the July revolution remains murky and this alone calls for a complete probe and justice for all those who died.
As kids, we never knew why or how they glow, because mosquitoes never do.
We didn't even think too much about where these fireflies go off to the next morning or why they don't exhibit bioluminescence in the sun. Nothing scientific ever mattered. It was always the view of the greenery with golden moving dots over it that brought home a peace of mind. We want that to last forever.
And that is an emotion captured by Grave of the Fireflies, a 1988 animated movie, featuring this popular quote, that is now a sentiment shared among many, was not about the fireflies having a short life expectancy. It was about Seita and Setsuko's childhood being taken away too early.
Children are innocent beings.
They aren't too bothered with politics. Neither would they clash with the police or demand reinstatement of the quota system for government jobs.
This fight was not theirs. Just like WWII was not Setsuko's war to succumb to.
During the Anti-discrimination Student Movement-led mass uprising in July-August 2024, 105 children had been shot dead by law enforcers and other agencies during the uprising that ended with the ouster of the Sheikh Hasina-led Awami League government.
So what if a government is being overthrown, or a global warfare is ongoing, why must we let our children die?
In what world does that make any sense?
As today marks four months since the end to the uprising which led to the fall of the fascist regime, let's take a moment of silence and pay a tribute to the graves of these fireflies that we wish to make proud.
'Dad, look! Look what is happening'
Four-year-old Abdul Ahad was on the balcony of his home in Rayerbagh on 19 July when he saw a commotion on the street.
Unlike many other children his age, Abdul was always curious, asking questions to his father.
Talking to Qatar-based media Al-Jazeera, Abul said he remembers hearing people shouting and the sound of gunshots.
And then he saw Abdul fall to the ground.
The four-year-old got shot while he was inside the house and died at the hospital a day after.
His favourite collection of toys, starting from stuffed animals to small cars, motorbikes, jeeps, robots are all there.
Abdul loved chicken, chips and lollies.
'My daughter looked like a doll'
On 19 July, six-year-old Riya Gop was playing with other children on the roof of the four-storey apartment building she lived in.
It was located in Narayanganj's Nayamati.
As clashes broke out in the streets, Riya's father Deepak rushed to the rooftop to get Riya. As Deepak was heading towards the stairs, he realised that Riya had already collapsed on his shoulder.
A bullet had hit the six-year-old in the back of her head.
Riya died while undergoing treatment at DMCH five days later on 24 July.
"My child was born after many years of marriage. We had to wait so long for her arrival," Deepak told Al Jazeera.
"My daughter looked like a doll," he added.
Golam Rahman, a security guard of the building, told English-daily The Daily Star that Riya was the centre of the couple's world.
"We were all so happy after she was born. I saw her grow before my eyes. I feel I lost a child," he added.
11-year-old Samir wished to be a footballer when he grew up
Hearing the sound of clashes outside the house, 11-year-old Safqat Samir ran to close the window. But soon after, he collapsed; the house was covered in blood.
Samir was shot in the head on 19 July in his house in Kafrul, Mirpur.
'Ma, I'm going to protest. Better to die on street like a hero than stay at home'
Shahrier Khan Anas, 16, left home to participate in the protest on 5 August.
He left a letter for his mother that read, "Ma, I am going to the protest. I couldn't make myself stay at home anymore. It's better to die on the street like a hero than stay at home like a selfish fearing death."
He was shot dead on the same day in the capital's Chankharpul.
The first reported death of children during the July movement was on 18 July.
It was Farhan Faiyaaz, a student of Dhaka Residential Model College (DRMC) who was shot dead near Rapa Plaza in Dhanmondi, according to local media reports.
Farhan Faiyaaz was 17 years old.
'Everytime I see police, it reminds me of their brutality': Martyr Golam Nafiz's mother
Golam Nafiz, a 17-year-old student of Banani Bidyaniketan School and College, was shot dead on 4 August in Dhaka's Farmgate area.
After Nafiz was shot, police placed his body on the foot of a rickshaw, where he was still holding onto the rickshaw's rod with his hands.
The rage of martyred Golam Nafiz's mother against the police administration remains fierce, following the brutal death of her son at their hands during the July-August revolution.
"The police administration, who are responsible for shooting at young kids like my Nafiz, lives on the money earned by the common people. Even today, they are responsible for providing us security. Everytime I see them on the street, I remember their brutality," said Nazma Akhtar on 19 November.
Meet 12-year-old Shahriar and Afsar, Nitor's youngest gunshot victims
Can we break earth's sleep at all?
Over 100 children were killed at the hands of police brutality, the crossfire of a war that wasn't theirs, nor were they equipped to fight it.
It was our brothers, our sisters, and our nation's children – lives of whom were lost in pure, absolute futility.
Think how it wakes the seeds—Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil to break earth's sleep at all?
Social Welfare and Women and Children Affairs Adviser Sharmin S Murshid announced that each affected family of the 105 children would receive Tk50,000 as compensation.
Basic compensation and aid aside, these children who died at the expense of a historic mass uprising, well, they are not martyrs.
Children dying in the massacre was the most tragic aspect of the revolution.
The total death toll of children who were killed under various circumstances during the July revolution remains murky and this alone calls for a complete probe and justice for all those who died.
There, indeed, is no glory in war.