A story of a mother & her unborn bricks


Last year December in winter season I was walking around the place named Dhamrai, Dhaka District, Bangladesh. This is place is 50 kilometer far away from  capital city. Due to narrow road you need 2 hours to reach this place by road. We were five friends visited there for photography purpose. This place is popular for sweets. I was looking for some sweets to eat at evening time. I was roaming around here there. I was observing local people activities, their lifestyle.  All villagers were very much curious about us. They asked me, “Why are you taking photography? Are you journalist?  Where do you live in?”. So many questions they have asked me. I enjoyed answering them. I liked their simple behavior. They were maintaining simple living.  Most of them were farmer,  some labor and shop keepers.

I was walking through a village, I forgot the name that village. A narrow road was inside the village. Beautiful mastard fields were besides that village. I was taking photographs of mastard flowers.

On the way,  I found there a brick field. I entered and many workers were busy. I was seeking for the permission from supervisor. Because that place was restricted. I had explaned my photography purpose. They allowed me for just 1 hour. I was roaming around here there. I walked the whole area. But I was not satisfied. Beacause there was any point of interest in photographs. I was thinking about texture of bricks. I was looking for  some stories for making these bricks. I was observing every workers. They were doing lot of tasks. But I was not see anything different, I tried from many angle. I did not like diagonal photography but I also tried to do something diagonally. But that was not much impressive. I was so dissappointed. I sat down a empty land and planning for new ideas. I was looking around the area.

Sudden, I found a middle age woman working in side the brick field. Lot of raw materials for making bricks were here there. She was working a corner side.I went to her. She was very shy woman. All villagers womem were shy. At first she did not talk to me. I was requesting her twice for a photo. First time I was a bit hopeless and I tried again. Also,  I had decided to change my subject as another option. She allowed me suddenly. But she did not allow me to take her face. I was a bit confused, what can I do. I was thinking a new stroy. A process of brainstorming was started inside mine. I started walking around here there I tried to something different.

I found something different story. I gave the name of this story is “A story of a mother & her unborn bricks”. A mother always cares for her babies with soft touches. I saw there she touches softly her unborn bricks with mud. Two pots are full of loves which are called muds. Water is hope, soil is love all together make a special thing. This mud will make brick more strong. A mother is spreading her strength to her unborn baby. This strength will make better future. And strongest bricks will make strongest home. Every mother makes a strong basement for her every baby. All mothers always thinks about her baby’s future. She always tries to make it brighter. A mother always cares of her unborn baby. She always touches her baby with her full of blessing hand and wishes for baby’s bright future. A mother builds a family. She is growing up every piece of hopes with care. Each bricks is her hope. She is building a dream for future. All bricks together will make a home of strength.  This is a complete story of a mother & her unborn bricks.