August 26.

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Six years ago, it was the day when I rushed towards Cox's Bazar frontiers, unsure of what was happening and how to cover a crisis that was apparently happening over the other side of the border. Little did I realise it would eventually end up, on a gigantic scale, on this side of the river Naf.

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I saw things -- distress, disease, helplessness, desperation, lamentation, deaths, rights violation, crimes, honour, and whatnot?

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More than ever it knocked on the door of my conscience; How important was my job; and how was I doing it, telling the untold stories of the oppressed to the world.

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I'm still unsure if I could actually help to bring any difference; the refugees are still struggling. I kept wondering how my work has affected the over million-strong Rohingya minority from Myanmar.

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But God be my witness; I tried with my best effort.

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This 2017 photo shows: A young Rohingya family on the back of an open half-truck with others who floated ashore on Teknaf beach, heading towards the Kupupalong refugee camp amid monsoon. The photo was taken by Dr. Jasmin Rumi, my dear wife who accompanied and helped me in those difficult days, at the Court Bazar intersection.

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