AN UNTITLED STORY

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My childhood was filled with an inexplicable fear of darkness, a shadowy presence that seemed to follow me everywhere. Even today, I sometimes feel the echoes of that fear. Strange shadows would pass by, frightening me as a child, invading even my dreams. Yet, despite this fear, the night held a unique allure for me. It felt like my own secret world, and I would wander the silent streets, a lone traveler in the quiet embrace of darkness.

As I grew older, my life was shaped by countless rules and restrictions. My mother, a perfectionist, detested dust, and this meant I couldn’t enjoy the freedom of play like other children. But everything changed the day my father gave me a bicycle. That bicycle became my first taste of freedom, allowing me to explore the world beyond the confines of my home.

During this time, a new dream began to take root in my heart—photography. I yearned for a camera, but I was too afraid to voice my desire. Determined, I began saving money by skipping my school tiffin. When I had saved about four thousand takas, I finally gathered the courage to tell my mother, 'Mom, I want a camera.' She took some time to consider and then added more money to help me buy one.

That camera opened the door to a new chapter in my life. I would set out on my bicycle, capturing the beauty of the world through my lens. But my joy was short-lived. Soon after, our family moved to Rajshahi, and there I lost the camera’s battery. My father eventually got me a new one, but it didn’t work well. The camera would shut down quickly, forcing me to carefully plan each photo.

Later, as per my parents’ wishes, I enrolled in college, which distanced me from my old friends. My parents were cautious and worried that I might stray onto the wrong path. Though I never kept secrets from them, they didn’t support my passion for photography. I wanted to study photography, but my family didn’t approve. Reluctantly, I agreed to study LLB, but only on one condition—if they bought me a DSLR camera.

Even with my new camera, I didn’t find true freedom. Over time, I fell into the grip of substance abuse. It was a dark and lonely period in my life. Yet, my passion for photography introduced me to two remarkable individuals—my mentor, Shah Niaz Khan, and a dear friend, Priyak Bhai.

Shah Neyaz Khan eventually discovered my addiction and encouraged me to quit. His words gave me the strength to fight. I stayed confined at home, enduring the painful process of detoxification. I even dropped out of my LLB program.

During this time, I spent many days with Priyak Bhai, venturing out to capture photos together. Those moments became some of the happiest of my life. Slowly but surely, I overcame my addiction and began to rebuild my life.

One day, during a trip to Cox’s Bazar, Priyak Bhai shared his dream of visiting the place again with his family. I suggested he visit Nepal, Bhutan, or India instead. He went to Nepal, but fate had other plans. He and his child tragically passed away in a plane crash.

His death shattered me. I blamed myself, believing my suggestion had led to his demise. Stricken with grief, I stopped taking photos. It felt as though my passion had died with him. Before his passing, he had encouraged me to join Counter Photo, and I eventually followed his advice.

Though I considered leaving photography, my connection with Counter Photo kept me grounded. There, I met Faieham Bhai, a teacher and mentor who inspired me deeply. He encouraged me to pursue a project that reignited my love for photography.

Through this project, I began to photograph for myself once again. It became more than just a creative outlet—it was a way to weave together my past, present, emotions, and dreams. Photography helped me rediscover myself and gave me a new purpose in life.