Teen years started just after coming to the New Nation called Bangladesh. Nothing was quite impressive here. Rather on arrival Dhaka we had to stay like refugees for few days. We were given one or two room in the Dhaka Air force Mess.

Abba one day took us to his half broken house, which was occupied by some tenant. The tenant took it for granted, we were all dead in Pakistan. Anyway, he wanted some time to settle his family back to Chittagong. It was decided that we better take a leave to the village for one month, In the meantime he will arrange something for his family. They were Barua (Buddhist) people - very much peace loving. Actually they had a small community over there in Nakhalpara, where we had our house. We left for Rangpur by train to give them a chance to shift somewhere else.

There in the Village, things were rather emotional. My Dada (Papa Grandpa) almost lost his sight repenting for his son in Pakistan. Because they didn't get any news about us for long five years. Anyway, tears were all over. Everybody was hugging & crying in mere happiness. That was a scene. But, it affected me very little. I was rooming around taking the charm of Bengali village. My cousin brothers took me for fishing, riding the carts driven by two cows. Once, I was fascinated by a small chick sooo much that I took it in my hand and lovingly pressed its throat. The chick died instantly leaving me ashamed of myself.

In my Nana's (Mama Grandpa) place, repetition of the same emotional scene. We were given grand reception long before we reached there by cow-carts. My uncles came beforehand long way to receive us. We took some very popular typical village dishes beside fire. No wonder, it was late Winter at that time.

Things were very much satisfying. I played with my cousin Dipa on top of the straw bush. Shouting, screaming with childish joy and delight.

Time to get back to work arrived very fast. Abba brought my Dada with us to take care of him in Dhaka.

But Mujib couldn't control the misdeeds of his own family. His son, Sheikh Kamal took it for granted, he was the king of this country. He was doing with the help of "Rakhkhi Bahini" - whatever he felt like.

Taking the advantage of an unorganized nation, Giant nation India made a killer dam on the river Ganges to control the water flow in their favour. When this country was Pakistan, they didn't have the guts to make it. Our good and devoted leader "Moulana Bhashani" made a long march from Dhaka to protest this aggression act. But it was of no use to convince this selfish nation. Our leader Bhashani died few days after that. Allah, keep his soul in peace.

Anyway, Arun Babu, our Barua tenant gave us one part of the house to stay. He sent his family to Chittagong beforehand. 3 of us were admitted instantly to an Air force School named Shaheen School. After loitering for a long time, it was the beginning of my real school life.

There was a hellish flood that year in 1974. We had to walk through knee high water to travel between school and home. The flood brought ugly skin disease to many, including myself. I couldn't go out of the house for quite a number of days due to that disease. Meanwhile, I appeared and passed in the qualifying exam for Momenshahi Cadet College, a well known boarding army school far away from the city.

Before the joining day in Cadet College, I got some off days. I utilized my time in reading Bengali Suspense novels.

4 of us, all sons of Air force officers, were taken by a Microbus to travel to Cadet College. The journey was only one hour long. I remembered my mothers tears, while departing. The journey gradually brought me back to present. There were Shal trees all around. Rather I should say Shal-jungle. The jungle was endless. Until we reached a wide & big gate with the monogram of Cadet College pasted in it. It was written there - "Knowledge is Strength". More half a mile inside, there were establishments everywhere. We were taken straightway to Academic Block Auditorium.