Back in Tejgaon, a soldier was walking through the alley with a sly expression on his face. Within a short while, he met his comrades.
"The cotton warehouse got robbed just a while ago. They even gave me 100 taka. It's our chance. There's only two old dudes from the Tongi Regiment. If we can snatch it away from them, we can make at least 1000 rupees selling it in India. Most importantly, no one will suspect us later on."
"You're sly like always, Mokbul. But are you sure about this? We can't create a skirmish. We might end up on the front page of an international paper reporting internal struggle among Mukti Bahini."
One of them replied with concern. If things got out in the media, the outcome might be dire. Soldiers around the nation were doing whatever they pleased, but Dhaka was off-limits—too many journalists, military officials, and the Indian Army.
"Let's give it a try. We can just coerce them to leave all those cottons with us in exchange for sparing their lives. I don't think those old men have the balls to fight back when outnumbered," Mokbul insisted.
"Very well. We don't have any other choice. My family is still stuck in a refugee camp, and here I am, completely penniless. You bastard got your hands on 100 taka while we're broke. We need to take this risk,"
A young soldier named Ahmed replied with a gloomy face. He was an idealistic, educated man with a sense of morality. But times were hard.
Soldiers had risked their lives every day to win the war, without being paid a single penny. After the war, it was the politicians who reaped most of the benefits, while the soldiers remained unpaid, living miserable lives. Many turned to illegal means to survive—selling military equipment, robbing abandoned properties, and more.
"Let's do it. We'll block their path outside of Tejgaon. Let's ambush them near Uttara since it's the only route back to Tongi," Ashik suggested, analyzing the situation.
The four of them got into a truck and headed for north-west Dhaka.
Mr. Monish was driving the truck with a relaxed expression.
"You bureaucrats are quite cunning, I give you that. I really got panicked when that soldier shouted at us. But as soon as you gave him 100 rupees, he changed into a completely different person."
Mr. Reza laughed it off.
"Bureaucrats, soldiers, politicians—in Bangladesh, all are the same. As soon as you give them a bribe, they'll lick your boots."
Instead of laughing, Monish suddenly slammed the brakes, causing both of them to hit their heads.
"Why the hell did you stop so abruptly?" Mr. Reza shouted, holding his nose which had begun to bleed.
"Look in front of you. You'll realize why."
A war-torn armed truck was blocking their path. Three soldiers stepped out, weapons slung across their shoulders. One of them shouted:
"Surrender peacefully. We'll guarantee your safety as fellow comrades."
Mr. Monish, now sweating, tried to smile but failed miserably.
"Now old folks like us need to fight? Is there any way around this? Or should we just surrender?"
"Fighting is out of the question—we'd just die in vain. But surrendering here would be humiliating."
Reza said with concern, then suggested:
"Let's get out of the truck first. It's not like they'll shoot us down in the middle of the street."
They slowly stepped out of the truck, hands unarmed, hearts pounding.
"We can negotiate small things like a fellow comrades, right?"
Mr. Proposed Negotiation with a dried voice.
One of the armed soldiers—Mokbul—approached with a crooked grin. " We're not here to kill anyone. Just hand over the cotton, and no one gets hurt. It's the best negotiation"
Monish looked around. The road was eerily empty—no witnesses, no escape. He glanced at Reza, who nodded ever so slightly.
Reza stepped forward. "We're all brothers here. The war's over. Let's not start another fight among ourselves.
How about this? some of come forward unarmed to have a proper conversation"
Mokbul's smile faded. "Brotherhood doesn't fill empty stomachs. "
After a pause while dropping his gun- " very well. we'll respect your suggestion as comrades."
Ahmed, and another younger soldier named bablu followed the suit.
Bablu said without a bit of interest " I don't like this robbery thing personally .We came this far—we're not leaving empty-handed. Let's wrapped this thing up peacefully"
The tension calmed down a bit as they agreed for negotiation.
trying to test the water Mr.reza said-
" This cotton is meant for hospitals. You'd be stealing from the wounded."
Mokbul laughed it off-
"You guys can't lie at all. There's no hospital in tongi. And the number of wounded shouldn't be much. You guys really have another motives. Are you trying to smuggle the cotton in india?"
Being comepletely seen through,;. Reza pulled out two hundred-taka notes and admitted the truth.
" we're trying to reopen a textile. You know how much cotton is needed there. Let's cut off the chase. You keep another 200, we keep the cotton . Both are happy."
Ahmed and Bablu swayed by the offer. Fighting here, smuggling cotton India was too much of risk. It's best to keep some money without doing anything.
"well.... you guys are intellectual for sure. we didn't ever though about taking over and running factory."
Ahmed was .... impressed .
"we don't care what the hell you guys gonna do with those cotton. Give us 500 just half of that cottons worth and flee"
Mr. Reza pretended searching his all pockets and took out another note of hundred.
" We only got a 100 left. You can keep it"
They looked at Monish who shrugerred-
"I am just a truck driver. You can check me if you want.'
"Very well . we'll collect those 200 rupee from you guys later. Your captain will pay us later"
Bablu thought captain reyaz as the real mastermind, can't blame him though.
Bablu took the money while Mokbul said-
"You have ten minutes.we'll visit you guys soon enough"
Without wasting a second, Monish and Reza jumped back in the truck and drove off, hearts pounding, leaving behind four soldiers in a cloud of rising dust and crumbling morals.
"That bastard was really dangerous. He took the bribe only to rob us later"