In 2019, I, along with my closest friend, Babul Shaikh—whom I sometimes called Babul Bhai—planned to go to Ukhiya, Cox’s Bazar for a survey for my master’s thesis. We began our journey from Khulna at 2:30. Some of my well-wishers saw us off as if we were going abroad for a long time. Anyway, the day was very enjoyable for us. Initially, we decided to go to Dhaka and take a rest for one day. That day was Thursday.
The next day, on Friday, we were notified that without a national identity card, we would not be allowed to conduct a survey in the Rohingya host community or even in the Rohingya camps. Because of this, we had to return to Khulna to bring our NID. Babul Bhai went back home after his namaz on Friday. He is very fond of spicy food, which is the opposite of my preference. During his journey, he ate heavy food like mutton, ilish, and other rich meals. The journey back to Khulna was a horrible experience for him. Despite this, he did it, and I am grateful for his effort.
I was waiting for his return on Saturday. Over the phone, I asked whether he was ready to go to Cox’s Bazar that day; his response was positive. Again, during the return to Dhaka, he ate heavy food, which affected him.
Whenever he reached Dhaka, I requested him to take some rest, but he said, "I am not an old person; I am young enough. I want to depart for our journey to Cox’s Bazar." I politely responded, "I don’t have any problem; I am just thinking about you. You have traveled a lot in the last two days and haven’t had enough sleep. It will be super hard for you." He replied, "No issues. Let’s get started if you are ready."
At that moment, I felt confident enough to continue.
The elder brother, who was our host in Dhaka, insisted we have dinner before starting our journey. While I refused to eat, Babul Bhai did. This meal was also very heavy. We took a rickshaw and reached the bus stand at 9 PM. The bus was scheduled to depart at 11:30 PM, so we had to wait for two and a half hours. We were moving around, trying to pass the time, but it felt slow. Babul Bhai bought two burgers in case we got hungry. Before commencing our journey, we ate the food. I couldn’t finish mine, so he ate the rest. I usually don’t eat large or heavy meals.
When the bus started, I quickly fell asleep. I held my bag tightly, fearing that someone might take it away. It was an AC bus, and we were feeling comfortable. For Babul Bhai, it was his first time traveling in an AC bus.
While I was sleeping, Babul Bhai suddenly started vomiting. He asked the supervisor for tissue paper and water. When he became extremely exhausted, he slowly placed his hand on my shoulder. I woke up and asked what had happened. He requested me to ask the supervisor for tissue paper. I did so. The supervisor told me that they had run out of tissue paper and water bottles. I looked down and noticed that the supervisor was holding several plastic bags. I humbly requested him to give us some tissue and a bottle of water, assuring him that we would pay for them. Finally, he gave them to us.
At that moment, I felt helpless. He was getting sicker, and I didn’t know anyone around us. The place was completely unfamiliar to me. When it was 3:30 AM, the bus reached a station, and he got down to use the toilet and freshen up. I was waiting for him. The bus was scheduled to wait for 15 minutes. However, after 15 minutes had passed, he had not returned.
I was in doubt—should I leave my bags and luggage to search for him? Despite this, I got down from the bus and called out to him loudly, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. The supervisor started pressuring me, and I was getting extremely frustrated but controlled my temper. Eventually, I decided to check inside the toilet. There, I found him too weak to respond. I helped him get up and return to the bus.
As soon as the bus restarted after the short break, I fell asleep again. But Babul Bhai couldn’t. His pain was getting worse, and he was shouting in the bus, asking them to stop the AC and drive slowly. When morning came, I requested the bus staff to stop so I could buy some medicine. They understood our situation and stopped at a place where they usually wouldn’t. He went to the toilet while I bought some medicine. He was too weak to move, and without support, he couldn’t even stand.
After taking the medicine, the bus departed again. I assumed he would start feeling better, but there was no improvement. He kept asking for tissue paper and water as he continued vomiting. When the bus stopped at the next station, he got down and removed his shirt—it seemed as if he had gone mad. He kept asking how long it would take to reach our final destination.
We finally reached the Cox’s Bazar bus station at 12:30 PM, though we were supposed to reach at 9:30 AM. Anyway, we got down and hired an auto-rickshaw, locally known as an easy bike.
We hosted one of our friends, Soikot Tonu, who has been working in the Rohingya camp since 2018. He promised to assist us in the field as well. For Babul Bhai, we bought some dried food. The next day, we planned to visit the Rohingya host community. We tried to reach out to some local people, and they were really helpful. I am grateful to them for managing some respondents for us. Our work in the field was going smoothly.
At times, we visited the Rohingya camp to better understand their situation. Babul Bhai was doing well despite the challenging conditions. However, five days later, an incident occurred.
At the very beginning of the day, we were working together. While I was interviewing a person, he was talking to a woman. After finishing my interview, I informed him that I was moving on to another respondent. He told me, "You may go. I will meet you after a while.
However, a little later, he seemed to have forgotten about me and started roaming around with a local girl who shared similar interests. They talked about their favorite poets and poems, wandering around for nearly three hours. Meanwhile, I was waiting for him. Eventually, I started searching for him.
I asked many people around me, but no one could tell me about him. Frustrated, I wandered aimlessly through the area. Moving was incredibly difficult due to the hills and other obstacles. When a suspicious stranger inquired about my anxiety, I chose to ignore them.
As I passed a large hill, I noticed a couple sitting close together at the top, engaged in conversation. I decided to climb up and ask if they had a Robi SIM card—the only operator working there, as others had been restricted to prevent criminal activities involving the Rohingya.
Fortunately, I was able to reach them, and they kindly lent me their phone to contact Babul Bhai. At last, I got through to him and learned his location. Without wasting a moment, I descended the hill and ran as fast as I could to meet him.
He was staying at a hotel near the Rohingya camp—the same place where we usually had lunch every day. When I arrived, I found him sitting on the hotel stairs, his face filled with anxiety. I didn’t ask him what had happened. Instead, we quietly had lunch together.
Later that day, we returned to Cox’s Bazar sea beach, spending about three and a half hours there before heading back to a friend’s place. That night, as we were preparing for bed, he wanted to share something with me. However, I politely avoided listening.
Despite my reluctance, he kept insisting, but I refused again and again. Eventually, he shared his story while we were on our way back to Khulna. Even now, whenever I recall his story, it takes me back to the Rohingya host community.
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