Published: 22nd July ‘2025
The English Chronicle Desk
Only an intact school bag of a child and a melted national identity card were recovered from the ashes of the burning fire. The boy’s school uniform was burnt, but the half-written homework notebook still remained in that bag. From tomorrow, Junayet will no longer have to go to school, he will not do any more homework. Maybe he will never play in the school’s small swing again—that soul will not fly free like a bird.
A silence has descended on the school premises. Mehreen Madam will never stand in the class and say—“Today’s lesson is starting.” That noise will no longer be heard in her class. Rajni Islam, whose name has been mentioned repeatedly by more than one parent—has she been found? Or, for the last time, he arranged his child’s tiffin box and kissed his forehead, saying, “Dad, study properly, don’t disturb anyone before mom comes.”—Those words remained his final farewell.
An uncontrolled decision, a faulty flight or just plain mismanagement—hundreds of broken families stand at the center of everything today. There is only one question in their voices—”How many more mistakes will we have to make before we learn?” They are repeatedly throwing this question at us with a broken heart.
Pilot Taukir, who had a dream of flying in the gentle morning sky in his eyes—that dream remains today like an abstract painting painted on canvas. Maybe he wanted to make a safe landing, maybe he tried until the last moment, but reality has overshadowed even his efforts today in the blazing flames of the fire.
An old man—Dadajan—was searching under the ashes of the school premises. He searched for his beloved granddaughter in every burnt tiffin box, burnt shoe and burnt book page. Some say he found a burnt note with the child’s name written on it. Some say he didn’t find it. But his tears did not stop.
This accident showed us with his fingers how fragile our management is, how worthless our life security is.
Today’s tragedy should not be limited to just a number. Every life, every family and every child—the name of a possibility, a world.
Junayet, Rajni, Mehreen or Tauqir—they are not just names, they are proof of our failure.
Now is the time to find answers to questions, to change the criteria of responsibility. No more mistakes. No more mismanagement.
We must learn the lessons of a new day from the ashes of this fire. Otherwise, history will bring this tragedy back again and again—more cruelly, more lonely.
The English Chronicle Desk
