After a while, the truck rolled into Taanbazar. The atmosphere changed immediately — the roads were congested with people, and the air reeked of sewage and decay.
One didn't need a closer look to notice infants lying inside garbage dumps. Life had lost its value in a brothel like this. Every day, the cries of newborns echoed briefly before being silenced forever. Some unlucky souls died of AIDS or syphilis — but nobody cared. People didn't come here to think. They came to indulge.
Military personnel crowded the area. Why? Isn't it obvious?
Most customers were high-ranking Mukti Bahini or Indian Army officers. Regular soldiers couldn't even afford food, let alone pleasure.
"I don't want to stay in this hell for a second longer. You guys finish the job. I'll look after the truck," Mashrafi said, clearly irritated. As a religious man, standing in a place full of debauchery sickened him.
"Don't give me that crap," Rakib snapped. "We didn't come here to enjoy either. Just stick to your role — Liton will handle the rest."
"He's right," Jakaria chimed in. "Anyway, who'd want to risk getting syphilis? I'm gonna marry a decent young woman soon."
The others burst into laughter.
"Who'd even marry a broke fool like you?" Rakib grinned. "Maybe try your luck with an artisan."
Jakaria just laughed it off.
They parked the truck on the outskirts of the area. Jakaria stayed behind while the others moved in.
Taanbazar — ironically, once the largest brothel in the world — stood not as a monument of pride but of shame.
Prostitution may be the oldest profession in human history, but that doesn't justify it. It's the profession of a barbaric society still breathing inside a so-called civilized one. Sex is a primal desire — society created marriage to give it legitimacy and to form families: the core of human civilization.
Some nihilists argue that marriage is a superstition, that prostitution is a respectable profession. But by rejecting family, they reject society itself — built on the very pillar they scorn. They humiliate women whose true value lies in love, care, and creation — not in selling their bodies.
And then there's Bangladesh — a nation proud to call itself Islamic, yet it never took a real step against this heinous sin. Hypocrisy runs deep. On Friday, they preach the Prophet's teachings. On Saturday, they're found in some brothel alley. Our society is silent — and silence is consent. That's how prostitution gained legitimacy.
Back to the story.
Rakib noticed more girls than he expected. Some didn't look like the type who belonged here. Helpless. Frustrated. Their faces reflected one shared emotion — guilt.
Then, he saw a girl who couldn't be older than fifteen.
"What's a kid like you doing here?"
Red eyes, dried tears, dark circles, disheveled hair. A war orphan, no doubt — maybe worse.
"1 rupee per night," she muttered quickly.
Disgust and anger welled up in Rakib. He had studied hard. Fought in the war. All for this nation. And now, here it was — staring him in the eye.
He still took out a 1 rupee coin. She snatched it.
"Follow me," she said.
But Rakib stopped her. "I have no interest in a child. Just tell me — why are you here?"
"That's none of your business," she said coldly.
"I gave you money to talk. Don't play games with me."
A flash of rage crossed her face. "You really want to know? Fine. My parents abandoned me on the street. I grew up nearby — collecting garbage, sweeping roads. I even started learning factory work. I thought things were finally looking up. I had dreams. A stable job. A husband. A family.
But then some guy gave a speech, and every factory shut down. Never opened again. My savings vanished. One day, I woke up here — serving aliens, and now Indian perverts.
You soldiers start wars, but you never think of people like us."
Tears fell from her eyes, but her face radiated anger — at the world, at fate, at everything.
Rakib wanted to console her — but held back. He had no right.
"A factory will be opening soon. You can join."
"You don't need to lie to me. I took your money, so I'll sleep with you."
"Do you really think I'm lying?"
She paused. "I've seen many men. You're… different. Fine. I'll believe you."
Others barely noticed. They thought it was just another whore haggling.