By Shudir Baran Mazi

A few days ago, as the last light of afternoon was fading on the windowpanes, the phone rang. It was a well-wisher of mine on the other end. There was such weariness in his voice, as if a burden pent up in his chest for a long time had suddenly found language.

He asked, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I replied.

I then asked him, "How are you?"

He sighed and said, "Not well."

I asked worriedly, "Why? Are you feeling unwell?"

"No, physically I am fine."

"So? Is there a problem at home?"

He said, "No, not at home. I just can't take it anymore. What is happening around me, what I'm seeing, what I'm hearing—it is breaking me from the inside."

I was silent for a moment and said, "But these things have become almost a daily occurrence now!"

He replied in an even more pained voice, "No brother, no injustice can ever be normal. We may have learned to accept injustice as normal by living with it, but that doesn't make injustice normal."

He continued, "Every day, what I hear and see when I open my eyes is a horrific reality. Somewhere it's rape, somewhere gang rape, mob violence, murder, or suicide due to poverty. Somewhere parents are killed by their children; somewhere bodies are found in pieces after a brutal assault. Attacks on religious minorities on charges of hurting religious sentiments, torture, arson, looting, teenage gang violence, malicious lawsuits, extortion, drugs, and corruption—all of these things have held society captive to an invisible terror. Today, whether a student will go to school safely, whether a woman will return safely from work, whether a businessman will fall victim to extortion, or whether an elderly person will be cheated while seeking medical care—these questions have become people's daily anxieties.

Does it even end there? There is no guarantee of work. Then there is the skyrocketing price of commodities, the oppressive burden of rent hikes, food adulteration, counterfeit life-saving medicines, and deep-seated irregularities in the healthcare system. Compounded by the predatory eyes of domestic and imperialist tyrants, life has become a desperate struggle to survive, searching for a small shred of relief amidst absolute corruption. Today, just as farmers in the villages fear the uncertainty of market prices, middle-class people in the cities fear rent, medical expenses, and the uncertainty of the future. Fear seems to have crossed all boundaries of class, profession, and religion, entering all of our lives. People have entered a competition to see who can be the most heartless. It seems as though all the happiness, prosperity, and heroism in life now lie in becoming inhuman.

We are standing at a time when technology is at our fingertips, but the distance between people’s hearts is gradually increasing. Tell me, if our surroundings are unsafe, if society is unstable, and if the state cannot ensure its people’s safety, then how can I or my family truly be well? Even if we are secure in our own homes, can we ever be free from the pervasive insecurity of society? Security does not just mean a locked door; security means sending children to school safely, not waiting in terror for loved ones to return at night, and not fearing persecution for expressing our opinions."

I listened to his words carefully. Indeed, a person's greatest need is not just food, clothing, or shelter—security is the primary need. A person without security can never live in peace. In a society where people live in constant fear, all the achievements of development become largely meaningless. If there is no speedy and impartial trial for crimes, criminals lose their fear, and deep insecurity grips the minds of ordinary citizens. Even when laws exist, there is no guarantee of their implementation. If there were, this might not have happened. In a national daily dated June 26, 2026, I saw a report stating that bribery transactions involving the interim government over the span of a single year amounted to 12,633 crore taka.

Our biggest crisis today is not just economic or political; rather, it is a crisis of trust among people, a crisis of the rule of law, and a crisis of security. The responsibility to make society safe does not belong to the government alone; it is also our responsibility as citizens. Moral education within the family, the practice of human values in educational institutions, the impartial application of the law, social harmony, and mutual respect—these must form the foundation of a safe society.

After the phone call ended, I sat in silence for a long time. It felt as though he wasn't just talking about his own suffering; he was giving voice to the collective sigh of our time. I feel that we are gradually becoming accustomed to a society where news of injustice no longer surprises us; rather, we are surprised on days when there is no news of a major crime. This habit is the most dangerous of all. When public protest against injustice grows dull, injustice grows bolder. The moral decline of a society begins the moment its people learn to compromise with wrongdoing.

The real strength of a state does not lie in its arsenal, but in the security and trust of its citizens. A society in which people can prioritize hope over fear is a truly civilized and developed one. A state is truly developed only when its people live in faith, not fear. Let us build a Bangladesh where a child's laughter will not be silenced by fear, an old man's sigh will not be lost in helplessness, and people will find safety in one another. Let us move forward with the determination to build a Bangladesh where people wake up with hope, not anxiety; where no mother panics over the safety of her child; where no one is subjected to torture due to differences in religion, caste, or opinion; and where 'being safe' is not a constant challenge, but a guaranteed right of every citizen. We want a society where the laughter of children is fearless, the dreams of the young are unhindered, the path of women is respectful, and the lives of the elderly are secure.

It is the collective responsibility of all of us to build the Bangladesh that dreamed of humanity, justice, and harmony in the true spirit of the Liberation War.

The writer is a teacher of Haimchar Government College, Haimchar, Chandpur