Mr. Liton was passing through the street cautiously. Muddy street, half-torn buildings, faces of fallen women, and the foul scent of feces made the environment awful. Yet, some cunts believed it to be a men's paradise, a pleasure district. How foolish!
Not wanting to stay here more than necessary, Liton walked at a fast pace. He went inside a den whose location he bought from an agent.
A suffocating feeling consumed him as he went inside. Darkened by smoke, the room looked like a ghost house, with dirt forming a deep layer on its interior.
Beside a wooden table filled with old alcohol bottles, cigar packets, and a dead rat, five men were sitting on a bench.
A hopeless look with the foul scent of drugs filled their faces. Clothes—unwashed for centuries, hair—as long as a woman's.
Eyes had seen enough, hearts had endured enough, hands couldn't earn enough, brains couldn't find solutions enough—it was exactly their situation.
The entrance of Liton went unnoticed by them. Their minds were in a wonderland where the suffering of war, the reality of the dreadful situation, didn't exist. It's a land far beyond human comprehension.
"Hey, wake up."
"Keep your hands off me, you filthy whore. Go away whoring around your body to those bastards."
A man outburst suddenly, but seeing Liton standing beside him, his face showed confusion.
"Who are you?"
"Well, I heard you guys used to work in a factory, quite skilled workers too. But... you guys don't look like that and..."
Coming back to his senses, that guy replied, "Sorry for the outburst. I thought you were my w\... I mean some whore. You know how those bitches act."
He tried to laugh but miserably failed to do so.
"Well, there's a textile in Gazipur... we'll provide you meals," Mr. Liton offered them a job with no wage. Well, even food was a costly thing.
Initially thinking about turning it down, he shook his head. The reality was grim and opportunities rare.
"Very well, but you should know we've got family members," the man was making his final amends. If a man couldn't provide for his family, life wasn't worth living.
"It's not a problem. But I hope they contribute too," Mr. Liton indicated that everybody had to earn their own bread.
"I'll tell others. They'll agree unless they want to die."
"Care to fetch me some skilled technicians?"—he handed over a list of vacant posts. Jobs should be done by specialists; leaders don't need to concern themselves with everything.
Liton went back to the truck where he found Mashrafi, Rakib, and an unknown girl.
"Looks like you were picking up chicks. Can't blame you, your age is like that."
Rakib didn't know what to say, just sighed it off.
"We didn't need to walk around. You alone were just fine. I even got myself in trouble," Mashrafi was the one to open his mouth.
"Well, we have the bad habit of chasing down trouble. Don't worry about small things."
From the truck, Jakaria got down and said—
"You guys were just enjoying with women, leaving me alone."
Nobody bothered to reply.
"Workers will come in the afternoon, make sure to place them properly. We have to return with a crowd."
"No worry, we'll enjoy the damn weather on the roof," Jakaria said nonchalantly.
"If you enjoy the weather, who will drive the truck, you idiot?"
At dawn, when several armed vehicles carrying high and mighty officers were entering the streets, a group of haggards was approaching the place.
Men were deeply tormented, addicted to drugs to escape reality, whereas the women didn't look any different from them in the streets. Children were brutally beaten, faces filled with dried tears—the bones of their bodies weren't covered by flesh.
Looking at the crowd, Rakib, Liton, and Mashrafi all were expressionless. The grim reality of war shaped their minds; long since, they had forgotten the beauty of the world. But even after the war, the never-changing situation made them feel frustrated in the corner of their hearts.
The crowd carved out its place on its own. Be it inside a dark truck filled with machines or the rooftop's abundance of air and risk, all spaces were filled.
The truck got kick-started on its own. Whether someone fell off or went missing, none of it cared.
The journey came to an end, but the greater journey—the journey filled with hope, hope for a better future—had only just begun.
The sun set in the west, but the dazzling eyes filled with determination lit the path ahead.