The Rainy Night

July 1971. The turbulent times of the Liberation War. Revolution was ablaze in every corner of Bangladesh. Yet, the small village of Nishipur, situated by the banks of the Padma River, seemed to be untouched by the chaos of war. The Pakistani military had not yet entered the village, but fear loomed in every shadow.

On one such rainy night, in a mud house on the edge of the village, a flickering lamp illuminated the room. Gathered there were Rifat, Ashfaq, Nahida, and the village’s most wise elder, Mawlana Yusuf.

Mawlana Yusuf looked at them with steady eyes and said, “Are you ready? We must take the initiative to free Nishipur ourselves. No one is coming to save us.”

Rifat, the bravest young man in the village, responded firmly, “We are ready. But where are our weapons? Can we face the Pakistani soldiers with only sticks and machetes?”

Nahida, the village’s primary school teacher, added, “Even if we don’t have weapons, we have strategy. We know every field, every bend of the river. They don’t. That’s our strength.”

They decided to attack a small Pakistani military camp located outside the village. All they had were a few machetes, axes, and an old rifle. But their greatest weapon was their unity and unwavering love for their country.

In a remote corner of the village lived a man named Kasim Kaka. He was a man of few words and kept to himself, but strangers were often seen visiting his broken-down house. Rumors about him circulated in the village—some said he was once a revolutionary, while others speculated he was a member of a secret organization.

At Mawlana Yusuf’s suggestion, Rifat and Ashfaq went to Kasim Kaka. After listening to their plans, Kasim Kaka thought deeply and said, “You have courage, but you need wisdom and caution as well. Alright, I will help you.”

He told them about a secret path that led directly to the Pakistani camp. With his guidance, they devised their plan of attack.

As the night deepened, the rain subsided, but the sky remained overcast. The young revolutionaries of Nishipur prepared themselves. Following the secret path revealed by Kasim Kaka, Rifat, Ashfaq, Nahida, and Mawlana Yusuf moved stealthily through the cold night air.

Their target was a small Pakistani camp about three kilometers away. It housed a few soldiers preparing to attack the village. The revolutionaries aimed to seize their weapons and strengthen their efforts for future battles.

As they neared the camp, Rifat felt a growing unease. While hiding in the bushes, Ashfaq whispered to him, “Are you alright, Rifat? You seem worried.”

Rifat, trying to mask his anxiety, replied, “I’m fine. But it feels like someone knows about our movements.”

Suddenly, an unexpected figure emerged in the distance. It was Imran, a villager and once a friend of Rifat. Recently, however, Imran had joined the Pakistani forces.

Imran hesitated for a moment before approaching them. With a strange expression, he said, “What are you doing here?”

Suspicion flickered in Rifat’s eyes. “Why do you care?” he asked.

Imran smiled faintly and said, “I have nothing to tell you. But if you proceed down this path, you’ll face grave danger. The Pakistani soldiers are waiting for you. If you want to survive, trust me.”

Mawlana Yusuf’s eyes narrowed with doubt. “Why are you warning us? Are you truly on our side?”

Imran remained silent for a long moment before saying, “I have no allegiance to anyone. I am with them. If you wish to escape, heed my advice. But if you go forward, I cannot help you.”

Kasim Kaka, who had been standing quietly nearby, stepped forward and said, “You have become our enemy, Imran. If you stand in our way, there will be consequences.”

That night, for the first time, a fracture appeared within the group. Imran’s betrayal not only disrupted their plan but also cast a shadow over the future of the village.

Despite the warning, the group resolved to continue their mission. With determination, they advanced toward the camp, surrounded by the eerie silence of the night.

When they were only fifty yards away from the camp, Kasim Kaka moved forward to scout the area. Returning swiftly, he reported, “There are seven or eight of them. They seem unprepared. A surprise attack will give us an advantage. But be cautious—no mistakes.”

At that moment, an unexpected voice broke the silence.

“What are you doing here?”

Startled, they turned to see Imran standing before them, holding a lantern. His eyes carried an unreadable expression.

“What are you doing here?” Rifat demanded, gritting his teeth.

“I came to warn you,” Imran replied hesitantly. “The enemy knows you’re coming. They’ve been alerted. Leave now.”

Ignoring the warning, the group pressed on with their plan. They encircled the camp, and with a sudden attack, they took the enemy by surprise.

Kasim Kaka fired the first shot, throwing the enemy into disarray. Nahida and Ashfaq focused on the main arsenal, determined to neutralize it. By then, the soldiers had awakened, and the air filled with the deafening sound of gunfire.

Amid the chaos, Ashfaq heroically carried a grenade into the arsenal. The explosion destroyed the stockpile of weapons but left Ashfaq critically injured as he tried to escape.

Rifat rushed to him, his voice trembling. “I won’t leave you behind!”

Ashfaq, smiling faintly despite his pain, said, “Don’t waste time on me. Finish what we started.”

With a heavy heart, Rifat and the others pushed forward. By the end of the night, they had successfully taken over the camp. The Pakistani soldiers fled, abandoning their weapons. But the victory came at a cost—they lost two of their comrades, Ashfaq and Mahbub.

Mawlana Yusuf, his voice filled with both sorrow and determination, said, “Today, Nishipur has triumphed. But our fight is far from over. Many battles lie ahead.”

That night became a symbol of faith, courage, and sacrifice. The people of Nishipur vowed to continue their struggle for freedom, no matter the cost.