A man laying drenched in blood on the street, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. Voices could be heard all around — some urging to pick him up, others calling for an ambulance. But his mind was slowly slipping into unconsciousness, and his entire life began to play out before his eyes.
In a distant memory, a 13-year-old boy was seen laughing and playing with friends on the school field. Engrossed in the game, he was suddenly called into the principal’s office. His parents were already there, and the principal was trying to persuade them:
“Your child is only 13 and receiving free education here. The government covers all the expenses. Why do you want to take him out?”
His mother responded:
“He’s our child. We want to take him away. We only sent him because you insisted, but now his uncle has arranged work for him in another city. He’ll come to pick him up this evening. And anyway, what’s Rahman going to do with an education?”
Sadness washed over Rahman’s face. He said helplessly:
“Ammi, Abbu, I don’t want to leave you.”
But his father forcibly grabbed his hand, and that evening, Rahman left with his uncle to earn a living in another city.
Sometime later, he ran away and came back home. But his parents didn’t ask why he had returned: they just scolded and beat him. Without listening to a word, they sent him away again for work in another city.
When a boy goes astray, we think marrying him will make him responsible
There too, he faced physical and sexual abuse. Eventually, he ran away and ended up in a place where he was introduced to drugs. A few months later, when he returned home, his mother didn’t ask what had happened? Instead, she cursed him again and sent him to work somewhere else.
But the addiction had taken hold.
Then one day, his family decided to marry him off hoping marriage would “fix” him.
This is another tragic mind set of our society: when a boy goes astray, we think marrying him will make him responsible. But the real question is: if parents couldn’t guide him, how can a young, unfamiliar girl do it?
And so, at 17, Rahman was married to a 14-year-old girl. But she was too young to manage such a situation. She became the target of his anger. Whenever he returned home frustrated from his parents’ words, he would take it out on her.
As the addiction worsened, he turned to stealing. One day, he got caught and was sent to jail. During this time, his wife was expecting.
He received a three-year sentence. In prison, he learned that he had become a father. Three years later, when he was released, his son saw him for the first time. But even then, he hadn’t kicked the habit.
He kept begging for money or selling household items to feed his addiction. His mother kept cursing him. His wife quietly endured the abuse. Sometimes neighbours found him passed out in the street and dragged him home.
And now, once again; high on drugs, he tried to cross the road. A speeding car hit him. The driver didn’t stop.
He lay on the road, bleeding. A crowd formed. Some shouted for help. Some took videos.
But Rahman’s breathing grew shallow. His memories flashed one by one; the schoolyard, his mother’s curses, prison bars, his wife’s silent face, and his son’s distant eyes.
And a single question echoed in his fading mind:
“In this whole story, was I the only one at fault? Were all the others truly innocent?”
That question faded with his last breath. And he left this world.