Lighting A Candle Instead Of Cursing The Darkness

A Photojournalist’s Journey

I am only one, but still, I am one. I cannot do everything, but still, I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do

– Helen Keller.

I call myself, a photographer with a purpose. My mission in life is to help unprivileged people, create awareness of their untold pain and inspiring people to bring happiness to someone’s life. For the last 24 years, I have dedicated my life to working with marginalised and poverty-stricken people.
Besides sharing their photos and their extraordinary stories, I am personally engaged in trying to help them improve their lives and the lives of their children.

I have been making a living from my paid photojournalism assignments from organisations, publications, and talks. I also earn a small sum through conducting workshops for small groups or one-on-one through my photography school, – GMB AKASH Institute of Photography, located in Dhaka, Bangladesh.

I have published a book called Survivors’ ‘-A photojournal with photos of people who have survived against all odds.
I contribute the revenue earned to the needy and the marginalised. I have been able to find the subjects of my photography once again and have lent my hands to make them self sufficient. The change is phenomenal.

As a freelance independent photojournalist, I have no hired staff to help me with the multiple campaigns and projects that I organise all year round. I am not sponsored nor paid by any organisation. I do everything on my own and take full responsibility for all my work. The work includes travelling, collecting stories, taking photos, filming videos, interviewing people, and writing stories. Well, my chores do not end there. Organising charity campaigns, managing and distributing donated goods to unprivileged people, the list never ends. I maintain my social media accounts, as a medium to find ways to help the people I encounter every day. I try my best to light a candle wherever darkness prevails. 

A Dog’s Grave-  Rokshana

People said my dog died at the age of thirteen. But how is this even possible? I am thirteen years old too, and still alive. Bahadur (Brave) was our area’s local dog. He used to sleep under the lamp post. I have never seen someone to feed any street dogs or cats. In fact, I saw people who poured hot rice water into these innocent animals. Like all street cats and dogs, Bahadur used to have his food from a local dustbin.

I wanted to feed him well. I am a very poor girl. I hardly get to eat meat in a month. But by hiding from my mother, I started feeding Bahadur very often. That’s how we become friends. I was no more afraid of dogs barking. And Bahadur could find me anywhere. One day I was playing hide and seek far from the brickfield, without knowing anything two men caught me for no reason. I was shocked, and they started pulling me inside an abandoned factory.

I started screaming as loud as I can. No one heard me. I was begging for them to leave me. I lost hope. Suddenly I saw Bahadur appeared with three other dogs. Without realising anything, he was about to bite those men. They also hit him with a rod iron, but Bahadur didn’t leave their leg. I ran away from the place and returned with my father.

Those men were gone, and there was my injured friend Bahadur. He died last month. My mother made a small grave for him. I ask my mother where dogs go after death as they don’t have any heaven. She said, “They live in our heart, the best of all, heaven.”

No Girl Only A Boy   Rojina 

Shortly after my marriage, my husband went crazy for having a baby. He wanted a baby no matter what! He said, “Our baby will be a symbol of our love!” I got pregnant after a few months! When I was three months pregnant, my mother-in-law came to see me. We were all happy until my mother-in-law said, “I will have a beautiful grandson!” And my husband agreed and laughed about it, and they started searching for names for my son.

I was nervous and whispered, “What if it’s a girl ?” My husband laughed louder and said, “It will be a boy”! We got divorced a few months later after I found out it is a girl.  He was pressuring me to have an abortion. I had to choose between my baby girl and my husband!  I chose my daughter and decided to divorce him. It was not easy, but I know I have taken the best decision!

I never married again. I don’t feel it’s essential. I work for myself and my daughter at people’s houses. And every day I enjoy my motherhood. I believe every mother should love their children unconditionally. In the labour room, I was struggling with my daughter for 52 hours.  All expectant mothers have to go through this terrible ordeal every time. I don’t think any mother would think for a second and not throw themselves in front of a moving train to save her daughter- if need be. If you say that I am a selfish mother, I agree with you. Yes, I am a selfish mother.

Now We Can’t Go To School – Moriom

Six months ago, my elder sister returned home from her husband’s house, bleeding and crying in the middle of the night. I got terrified and could not sleep for a single minute whole night. My father was very angry with my mother. My mother said nothing but continued crying silently as always.

The last couple of months, we have been facing one problem after another. My immediate elder sister and I used to love to go to school. But now we can’t go to school anymore since last month. I already understood that growing up is a curse for girls because the danger grows as we grow. I don’t want to grow up anymore; I am terrified of growing up nowadays and becoming a woman.

Every day I pray to Allah that I should not grow up. But Allah will not listen to me, I know; I will grow up. I have to grow up like my sisters. I had to leave my school because of my safety. My immediate sister used to get molested by one of our school teachers. She had to leave school because something terrible happened to her. She was crying hard in front of my mother, but my mother shared nothing with anyone. When my father learned about this, he stopped us from going to school. I am not at all sad about his decision; in fact, I’m thrilled. Now I don’t have to tolerate hundreds of hunting eyes every day on the road, or I don’t have to tolerate inappropriate touching while sharing a small bus for going to school with other people.

Now, my sisters and I are working here in a bangles factory which is beside our home, so we feel safe here. From the very beginning of my life, whenever we had to go outside, my mother always recites suras and whiffs our chests for us to avoid bad looks and behaviours. Last week she slapped me so hard for asking her, Why does apa gets molested at school when you whiff us every day?  My mother cried severally after slapping me holding her chest and said, What can a mother do, without relying on God for her children? You will see the results of having daughters one day, just believe in God!”

Sultana’s Arrival  Momena 

When my son brought Sultana home, everyone was angry. No one was ready to accept her. I looked at the face of my daughter-in-law and saw she had no innocence; there were maturity and bravery. My daughters, husband and every one of my place started warning me how dangerous the girl can be. The day she arrived at home, my kitchen caught on fire because my saree fell into the stove. Everyone was screaming when Sultana brought sand in a bucket and threw it all over the place. She slightly burned her hands but stopped the fire. My daughters were telling me it was a bad omen; they said the new bride created the fire.  She won my heart in the first place. But no one liked her because Sultana came from the kind of family who can count how many times they eat fish or meat in a year. My husband told me what a loss it was to get a daughter-in-law whose parents could never feed us even once. I asked him why he always dislikes her. He told me because she is black and poor. I told him I am black, and my own family is still poor. I asked him if he also thinks I am worthless. I did not listen to anyone because there she was with all her heart and labour pouring happiness into my house.

After three years, there was no child. Everyone had a valid reason to send her off to her parents’ house. But I was there, standing in front of her so no criticism nor bad talk could affect her. But I saw she was suffering badly because of the need for a child. She stopped smiling. One day I  told everyone we were going to my sister’s place. I lied to everyone. We went to the community clinic, and there she received treatment. After six months, my daughter-in-law conceived. When my grandson was about to be born, my daughter-in-law told me if something happened to her, I should never let the child be given to any other woman. I was there beside her the entire time; I did not say a word without praying. My daughter-in-law survived bravely and gifted me this beautiful grandson.

It’s been forty years that I’ve been working, and every inch of my body hurts. But the money I earn is important for my sick husband and family. I hardly have time to play with any of my grandchildren. A few days back, Sultana told me she got a new job for her and me.  She gave my grandson to me and told me that looking after him and playing with him is my new job. I smiled and said we need money to run our family. And then she showed me a card. I cannot read as I never went to school. So she explained to me that she was recruited to work in a  garments factory and now I can retire. It’s been a few days since she started working. Yesterday I resigned from my labourer job. From early morning I have been feeling like a child as I do not know how this long day will pass. Whenever my grandson is laughing and playing with me, this brings tears to my eyes. I needed this rest; I badly needed to take a break. And no one understood it except my daughter-in-law who is worthless in everyone’s eyes. She became my mother.

Pain Of Betrayal Hasina Akhter

I spent that whole afternoon swimming in our abandoned pond like a crazy woman. No one knew what was happening inside me; my entire life was crushing inside my chest. I saw them together in my own bed. I can’t make you understand about that deep, burning pain in the chest.

My husband betrayed me; he betrayed me with my own blood, whom I was bringing up all her life as a mother would. I never thought even in my worse dreams that she could do this to me: My only sister who was with me after the death of our mother. My only sister, whom I loved as my child, seized everything from me. She fell in love with my husband and took my nine years of married life and my future, my dreams, and all my beliefs that I could never rebuild again as a human being.

Our family tried a lot to make her understand, but she was in love; no one could make her understand. I couldn’t say anything to her. She was my child, my sister. It was very tough for me to accept that situation. I wanted to kill myself several times to make the situation more manageable. I was finding a lot of ways to kill myself; to leave this life, but I could not because of my son, and maybe I am not brave enough.

I handed my love to my sister and wished them luck. It was last year. In the middle of the night without thinking where I was going, where I would go, how would survive with my four-year-old son, I flew from our town and never returned.
I am alive. But inside me, everything has died: my soul, my love, my every single dream, all my beliefs. I have lost trust. I am just alive on the outside. I have forgotten how to smile.