In the verdant hills of Khagrachari, where traditions whisper through bamboo groves and the wind hums forgotten lullabies, tragedy has carved an unbearable silence.
A group of vibrant university students, full of promise and dreams, disappeared—swallowed whole by a darkness that defies reason and shatters hearts.
Among them was Dibby Chakma, a gifted student from the Department of Theatre at the University of Chittagong.
She had returned to her ancestral home to celebrate Biju, the beloved indigenous festival of renewal, identity, and resilience.
Alongside her were her fellow students—brilliant minds, each etched with a unique story.
Maitrimoy Chakma from Drama, Rison Chakma from International Relations, Longgi Mro from Zoology, and Aldrin Tripura from Fine Arts—students of the 2023–24 academic session, all brimming with talent, hope, and the fierce will to rise above hardship.
But as they journeyed back to the university, their hopes trailing behind them like prayer flags in the wind, they were ambushed and abducted in the Giriful area of Khagrachhari.
According to the Pahari Chattra Parishad PCP-JSS Chittagong University branch, the students were forcibly taken by members of the United People’s Democratic Front (UPDF) while on their way to Khagrachhari Sadar from Kukichhara, where they had spent the night at a relative’s house after failing to secure transport back to Chattogram.
Since that morning—6:30 AM, April 16—no one has heard from them.
The UPDF is a regional political group operating in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) of Bangladesh. Established in 1998 in opposition to the 1997 Chittagong Hill Tracts Peace Accord, the UPDF rejects the terms of the accord and demands full autonomy and self-determination for the indigenous communities of the region.
Dibby’s mother, inconsolable and trembling, wrote a heart-rending plea to the world:
“Please, do not empty a mother’s heart like this. If they’ve done wrong, let justice prevail—but don’t let us suffer the eternal pain of loss. I fold my hands and beg: return our children. Let no mother carry this anguish.”
How does one articulate the agony of not knowing? The torment of imagining your child in fear, calling out for help in a silence that answers with nothing but echoes? How does one explain the hollow ache of waiting, of not sleeping, of replaying every moment in your mind while time stands still?
These are not just statistics. They are not nameless shadows lost to uncertainty.
They are sons and daughters, artists and dreamers. Young scholars who carried entire histories in their hearts and futures in their hands.
They believed in change—not as an abstract hope, but as something they could build with conviction and courage. They were already defying the odds, carving paths through a world not built for their voices.
Rison Chakma, a proud member of the PCP-JSS CU branch, was deeply committed to justice, human rights, and indigenous identity—his voice rising for those often unheard.
Aldrin Tripura and Maitrimoy Chakma, with sketchbooks full of memory and scripts echoing ancestral wisdom, dreamed of reviving vanishing cultures through art, theater, and resistance painted in color and rhythm.
Longgi Mro, a gentle soul from the remote hills of Alikadam, carried a quiet devotion to nature—his dream was not of escape, but of preservation.
And Dibby Chakma—brilliant, articulate, fearless—was a force of life, someone who lit up a room with her presence and believed in storytelling as a revolution.
These young minds weren’t merely preparing for exams. They were preparing to transform the world around them. And now, they are missing—not only from their classrooms and communities, but from the beating heart of a nation that desperately needs them.
Their abduction is not just a cruel act—it is a desecration of our shared humanity. It is a blow to the heartbeat of a community still fighting for dignity, memory, and peace. It is a reminder that when the state fails to protect its youth, the entire nation is diminished.
The UPDF has denied involvement.
This isn’t just a story of five missing students—it’s a haunting elegy of a country still grappling with injustice. Of a mother screaming into the void. Of friends and families frozen in the purgatory of waiting. Of a generation that is too often asked to survive, when it only wants to live, learn, and love.
To those who hold them, the family and friends appeal for mercy. Let humanity overcome hatred, and return these young lives to the light they were meant to walk in.
To those in positions of power, this is the moment to act—with urgency, with transparency, and with unwavering courage. These cries for justice must not be allowed to fade into the silence of yet another forgotten file.
Source : The Chittagong Hill Tracts
