Gone too soon: How childish curiosity cost Saad his life

TIMES Report
5 Min Read
Saad Mahmud. Photo: Collected

On the quiet evening of July 20, 14-year-old Saad Mahmud was doing what most boys his age do—playing, laughing, and enjoying the carefree moments of youth. He was on the rooftop of his family’s home in Shahibagh, Savar, playing with his cousin. Then he noticed something unusual, a thick plume of smoke rising near Chapain Road, not far from the New Market area.

Curious and unaware of the chaos unfolding nearby, Saad decided to get a closer look. He left the rooftop and walked toward the source of the smoke, his young mind perhaps filled with questions rather than fear.How

But that small, innocent decision cost him his life.

Around 6:30 pm, as clashes between police and student protesters escalated on Chapain Road, Saad was caught in the crossfire. Witnesses say that police fired indiscriminately into the crowd. Amid the chaos, a bullet tore through Saad’s left thigh. Bleeding heavily, he collapsed to the ground.

Locals rushed to help. He was quickly placed in a vehicle and taken to Enam Medical College Hospital. But it was too late. He succumbed to his injuries on the way.

Now, a family is shattered, and a father is left clinging to memories instead of his son.

Bahadur Khan, Saad’s father, an expatriate worker in South Africa, had returned to Bangladesh to ensure his children received a good education—his dream was for Saad to grow up safe and accomplished.

“I will never get my child back,” Bahadur said, his voice cracking, his eyes red with grief. “No one’s son should die from police firing like mine did.”

Saad was the only son among Bahadur’s three children. His elder sister, Taslima Khanam Nazneen, 20, is a pharmacy student at Gonoshasthaya University in Savar. His younger sister, Afroza Khanam Nasurat, just 8, still doesn’t fully grasp what has happened. Both she and Saad were students at Jabale Noor Dakhil Madrasa.

At home, Saad was known for his gentle nature. He loved birds and often fed the stray cats that roamed their building’s rooftop. He wanted to become a teacher when he grew up. “He used to collect notebooks and pretend to teach his little sister,” recalled a neighbor.

Bahadur’s voice trembled as he recalled the moments that changed his life forever.

“I went out to the road, not knowing Saad had gone there,” he said. “Then I saw his favorite shoes—brown sandals with worn-out soles—lying on the street. My heart sank. I rushed to the hospital, only to find his lifeless body. There was a bullet hole in his thigh. He had done nothing wrong. He was only 14.”

Saad’s mother, Halima Akhter, hasn’t spoken since her son’s death. Bedridden and inconsolable, she lies in a corner of the house, surrounded by women trying to comfort her. She had washed Saad’s school uniform the night before and folded it neatly, not knowing he would never wear it again.

The family brought Saad’s body back to their ancestral village in Dhalla Khanpara, Singair upazila of Manikganj, late that night. The following morning, under grey skies and with prayers echoing from loudspeakers, he was laid to rest in the village’s central cemetery. Hundreds from the community attended, many of them strangers touched by the heartbreaking story of a boy whose only crime was curiosity.

There has been no official comment from law enforcement about the incident or the use of firearms near civilians during the protest. Locals demand accountability.

“He was not part of the protest. He wasn’t even old enough to understand the politics,” said a family friend. “He just wanted to see what was happening.”

As the sun set over Dhalla village, children returned from school, some barefoot, some riding bicycles. They laughed and chased each other down the narrow paths. But one boy was missing—forever silenced by a bullet in a moment that should have passed without tragedy.

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