Chapter 20 : Pond of Blood
"For the first mission – I will personally be in charge of it. Fahmid and Ahsan will accompany me. We'll wrap things up quickly.
For the second mission – it needs caution. Mr. Monish, you'll take the lead. Mr. Reza, I hope you'll assist him. Make sure others don't learn about the truth. If the warehouse is already empty, abort the mission. If someone tries to investigate you, just say you're taking cotton for medical purposes. Dhaka is now filled with people, and the entire world is watching it. Try not to make any fuss.
For the last mission – Mr. Jakaria, Mashrafi, and Rakib will form a team. I'll inform Mr. Liton, who will lead you. Different factions might have looted those factories for money. Just negotiate with them using money. Make sure expert craftsmen and technicians feel safe and secure while hiring them.
I repeat: this is not a combat mission. Do things peacefully. Fire only when your life is in danger."
—Fayez instructed them calmly.
In his previous life, Fayez was a disciplined man—always prepared with a plan and schedule. People say, "A disciplined man always excels." But it didn't work in his life. Corruption hindered his ambition. Maybe he just died before he could walk the path of success. Fate had stored far greater opportunities for him.
"You're mingling with that Captain far too much—you're starting to sound like him. Are you two a thing or something?"The entire group burst into laughter at Fahmid's remark.
"Anyway, we know how to get the job done. If we can't complete a mission as simple as this, then I'm a twink,"Mashrafi declared with an air of confidence.
"Very well—if you mess things up, then you're gay."Everyone laughed again, this time even louder, at Fayez's unexpected remark.
"Looks like you're getting some positive influence from me,"Fahmid said with a sly smile.
"Enough chitchatting. Prepare for the upcoming mission and get the job done,"Fayez ordered, dispersing them like a boss.
After the meeting, Fayez crossed paths with Roshni.
"I heard you've started learning accounting and arithmetic from Mr. Reza. How's it going?"
"Initially I struggled a bit, but I'm doing well now,"Roshni replied honestly. Fayez gave—or rather, returned—a stack of cash.
"You're the one in charge of the treasury. Mr. Monish and your uncle will ask for money later. Make sure to write down every expense."
Roshni was surprised at first, but quickly accepted the money.
"Thanks for putting your trust in me. I'm not going to slack off, that's for sure."
Fayez simply nodded. Roshni quickly handed him a lunch box.
"Make sure to sha—"
"I know. You don't have to repeat it. Why do you always treat me like a kid? Are you my mommy or something?"Fayez was annoyed—his pride wouldn't allow him to be treated like a pampered child.
Roshni became embarrassed for no clear reason and muttered,"Arif and Sumi are playing in the garden. I need to take care of them."
Meanwhile, Mr. Liton returned home and saw Fayez standing in the corridor.
"I saw Roshni rushing to her room. Did something happen between you two?"Mr. Liton asked, eyeing Fayez with a skeptical look.
"I just handed over some money to her. She probably rushed off to keep it in a safe place,"Fayez replied, strategically skipping the real reason.
"Oh, just that. I heard from the boy with the long hair that you have a mission for me."
"Yeah. You guys will be heading to Narayanganj—we talked about it earlier. Cooperate with the others, and take your expenses from Roshni,"Fayez said bluntly, not bothering to explain again.
"Well then, I'll talk things out with the others."Without wasting any time, Liton turned and left.
That afternoon, Fayez, along with Fahmid and Ahsan, headed for Tongi Jute Mill. Since it wasn't too far, they reached their destination within an hour on foot.
As they approached the mill, a stingy, putrid scent filled the air—a foul stench of decay.
"Where the hell is that smell coming from?"Fahmid muttered, clearly annoyed and disturbed.
They all covered their noses with cloth and followed the trail of the smell. It led them to a nearby pond.
What they saw left them horrified.
The water in the pond had turned a deep, unsettling red. Human corpses floated on the surface, bloated and disfigured. The gruesome sight overwhelmed them.
Fayez and the others immediately turned away and vomited.
Fayez noticed, within a foot, a hand was lying on the ground. As he stepped closer, he found the body. One eye of the corpse stared at him with a lifeless, vacant gaze. A fox from the jungle was chewing its way through the intestines—a horrible, barely recognizable sight.
The scent of death was overpowering. A man in formal attire lay dead with an expression of shock frozen on his face. Nearby, body of a woman lying on the water surface.. and her state ..... prefer not to tell.
In this gruesome pond of blood and remains, fayez noticed something else. the face of one victim was still visible, drowned but not destroyed. A child lay half-submerged, clutching the torn clothes of his mother. The bullet must have ended his life before he even knew what was happening.
It wasn't simply a bloody pond. It was a testament ; testament to the genocide committed by the PAK bastards. The war was won, yes. But will they ever get justice?
You're naive if you think think they will...
In the world, those who have the power can pursue justice , those who can't just hide their faces like beaten dog.
The newborn nation didn't have any power and their leaders they were too busy to care.
Those who committed this hedonistic crimes were under the care of India treated well to be used as a bargaining chip .
As for Geneva convention, sorry but its just a piece of paper. Nations break it whenever and however they want. The powerful hide their crimes to protect their reputation. The rest don't even bother.
Even though Payez had witnessed a nightmare, fear wasn't what filled his mind.
It was rage. A burning anger. And the only thing he could think of was: one day, he would make them pay.
"Fayez? Fahmid? You two don't look good. We should leave this place and get some fresh air."
Ahsan's expression was unreadable, but one thing was certain: he didn't feel fear. Pain, anger, frustration perhaps filled his heart under the cover of stoic face. Still, seeing the concerning state of his juniors, he spoke up.
Then fayez noticed: it was Fahmid who was the most affected. He was trembling fear gripping him. The gruesome scene around them was too much for him to bear.
Conquering his emotions and the urge to vomit, fayez stood tall,
"Fahmid, are you okay, man? Do we need to carry you somewhere else? "
"No, I'm good. Let's go. The air here… it's too heavy."
The three of them left. After breathing in some fresh air near the mango tree, fayez spoke.
"Mr. Ahsan, how are you so calm? shouldn't you be like me and Fahmid?"
"A man needs to hide his emotions. When you grow up, you'll understand it."
what Ahsan said seemed reasonable, but it wounded Foyez's pride. He was older than Ahsan, and yet Ahsan seemed more mature. Desperate situations truly matured people.
"I'm creating a portrait in my mind. After returning, I'll print it out on paper. Red ink might be more suitable,don't you think?" Ahsan said with a gloomy face. No matter how gruesome or horrible the reality, it's artists' job to portrays it using creativity.
After calming himself down, fayez leaned against the tree and said, "How lovely the climate is. The wind coming from the Himalayas through the north... It's not too cold—just enough to calm your inner self."
After a brief pause, he continued, "Who could have imagined? Even in this lovely weather, such horrible things are happen around the nation. This winter will not bring golden paddy from the fields—but hardship, which people have endured enough of, and have to keep enduring.
Those people we saw in the pond... they were unfortunate souls who endured torture and trauma beyond our comprehension. Let's give them a proper funeral—as a final respect for their hardship"
"I don't think just the three of us are enough. Let's go back and call others," Fahmid said hesitantly. His fear still hadn't settled, despite the cool weather.
"No. We're here to safeguard the mill. We should at least check it out," fayez refused to abandon the mission.
"Why are you acting like those greedy merchants? The mill isn't going to run away!" Fahmid protested strongly.
"I share the same sentiment with fayez. We're on a mission, and we must accomplish it. Think about your friends and comrades. They went on missions far worse than us. Don't you feel ashamed?" Ahsan interjected, dismissing Fahmid's request.
In a democratic process, the decision to continue was made.
Shortly afterward, they reached the entrance of the jute mill. Once, farmers from the north had sent their raw jute here for processing. The refined jute—known as the golden fiber of Bengal—was a source of pride.
Now, this place was nothing but a site of horror. A place where Bengalis were brought, tortured, and brutally killed. A holocaust, which stood tall as a testament of brutal suffering.
The infrastructure remained intact, but the mill had lost its image. A foul scent of blood still lingered in the air. It was even coming from the old machinery.
Rust covered the machines, as expected, but worse were the visible bloodstains smeared across them and the factory floor. The once-proud facility was now a grotesque reminder of what had transpired within its walls.
Suddenly, Ahsan called out, his voice sharp, "Hey. Come here. I found someone... a boy. I think he's dead."
Fayez rushed over and knelt beside the boy. He leaned close—and heard it: a faint sound. Breathing.
"Idiot, he's alive! Bring the water, now!"
They quickly poured water into the boy's mouth. After a moment, he whispered, "Mo...m... Dad..."
"He's in a dire state," Ahsan said, checking his pulse. "Most likely starving. Bring the lunch pack."
fayez and Fahmid unwrapped food and carefully began feeding the boy in small bites.
The boy didn't speak further, but silent tears rolled down his cheeks. His eyes were open—but they seemed to be looking somewhere far away, beyond their reach.