Morning broke slowly over Bhabanipur in Rajbari on Thursday, but the village did not wake in the usual way. The air was still, heavy with grief. In one corner of the graveyard, three freshly dug graves lay side by side — for a mother, her son and a child.
Among them was Ahnnaf Tahmid Khan Raiyan, a 25-year-old economics student at Jahangirnagar University, whose life ended the previous night in a devastating bus accident.
The tragedy that unfolded on Wednesday has left not just a family shattered, but an entire community struggling to comprehend the scale of loss.
Raiyan had been travelling with his mother, Rehena Akhtar, and his young nephew, Tajbid Bin Mosabbir.
His elder sister, Nusrat Jahan Khan Saba, a doctor, was also on the bus. As panic spread when the vehicle lost control while boarding a ferry and plunged into the river, she managed to escape. Raiyan, his mother and the child remained trapped inside.
Hours later, rescuers pulled the submerged bus from the river with the help of the rescue vessel Hamza. Inside were 26 bodies. Eight people were rescued alive, but two later died in hospital.
By Thursday morning, grieving relatives and classmates gathered at Rajbari Sadar Hospital to identify the dead.
Back in Bhabanipur, neighbours spoke in hushed tones. “It’s not possible to speak to the family right now,” one resident said. “They are overwhelmed with grief. The whole house feels heavy.”
For those who knew Raiyan, the loss is deeply personal. Friends remember him not as a victim of tragedy, but as someone who filled spaces with energy and warmth.
“I never imagined we would be talking about him like this,” said his classmate Richika. “He was one of the closest people to us. I never saw him upset. He was always lively and smiling.”
Only months ago, Raiyan had endured another major loss — the death of his father. Friends say he carried that grief quietly, without withdrawing from others. Instead, he remained engaged, choosing to stay active in university life.
He was known for his involvement in clubs and organisations, often taking on roles where he could contribute to others. Leadership, for him, was not about titles but participation.
“He loved taking responsibility,” said another classmate, Shoumik. “Whether it was the debating society or a local initiative, he always stepped forward. He wanted to build something.”
Raiyan had recently served as president of the economics department’s debating society and had been discussing taking on new leadership roles in his home area. His days were marked by constant activity — rarely still, always connected.
Teachers also remember him as a student who stood out beyond academic results.
“You don’t see students like him very often,” said Mohammad Safiqul Islam, chairman of the economics department. “He may not have been the top scorer, but his character, patience, humility and reliability were exceptional. You could trust him with anything.”
He was present in nearly every cultural and social activity in the department — seminars, sports events, community gatherings and study tours — often working behind the scenes.
“Some are intelligent but not social, others are social but lack depth,” Islam added. “He had both.”
For his close friend Arifin Hasan Sami, the loss feels unreal. Over five years at university, Raiyan had been his closest companion — the first person he would turn to in any situation.
They had shared both personal and campus experiences. Now, Sami says, it is difficult to accept that those conversations have ended.
Just days before the accident, Raiyan had spent time with friends at a teacher’s home, talking about future plans, travel, exams and life — the ordinary conversations of a young man with a promising future.
Those conversations now remain unfinished.
As hundreds gathered outside his home in Bhabanipur, many stood in silence. Two bodies lay on stretchers in the courtyard, another inside the house.
Tears flowed freely, but words were scarce.
In a village where Raiyan was widely known, prayers are now being offered in his memory. Yet for many, the sense of absence is overwhelming — a reminder of how suddenly life can change.
Some losses, people say, cannot be filled.
