a dark sunrise in the history of Bangladesh. Before the morning light could touch Dhaka’s streets, the scent of gunpowder, the warmth of blood, and the halted screams of a nation’s nascent dreams had already descended upon 32 Dhanmondi. In the sound of those bullets, the breath of the Father of the Nation stopped, and a long chapter of mourning began—one that was not always free.
.png "Halim-&-Firni")
