Before she was my hero, she was my aunt
By Minal Mahit Chowdhury
I wish I had known that night would be the last time I would see my aunt, Maherin Chowdhury. I wish I had hugged her a little longer, told her how much she meant to me and asked her all the things I never got the chance to ask. But I didn’t know. We went to her house that night, played cards, laughed and stayed up until around 1:00 AM. It felt like any other family night. I had no reason to think it would become one of the memories I would hold on to the most.
My aunt always made me feel special. She was quite strict with my cousins, her own sons, but she was always different with me. Whenever my cousins did something that made me sad, she would scold them. She always looked after me and made sure I was happy. I don’t think I ever properly thanked her for how much she cared about me.
Every Eid, she used to make Haluwa and give us plenty of it. I loved eating it, and even now, I wish I could have it one more time. I also remember one time when we went to a resort together. She read all 99 names of Allah and then gently blew air towards me as a blessing. It was a small moment, but I still remember it. These are the kinds of memories I hold on to. They might not seem very important to someone else, but they mean a lot to me.
To me, she was never just my aunt. She was more like another mother. She made me feel loved and protected, and I always knew she cared about me. Looking back, I realise how lucky I was to have someone like her in my life.
There are so many things I wish I could ask her now. I wish I could ask her about her childhood, what she was like when she was young and what her life was like back then. I especially wish I could ask her more about my dad and what he was like as a child. She knew so many stories that I never got the chance to hear. I also wish I had thanked her properly for always taking care of me and making me feel so special. I thought I would have plenty of time to ask and say these things, but I didn’t.
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On 21 July 2025, a Bangladesh Air Force fighter jet crashed into the canteen building of Milestone College while classes were taking place. My aunt was there. Despite being in danger herself, she repeatedly went back into the burning classrooms to rescue her students. She managed to help at least 20 children escape from the building.
During her treatment at the hospital, my uncle asked her about her efforts to save the students. Her reply was, “They are also my children, they are burning. How can I leave them?”
She passed away that evening.
When I first found out, I was devastated. I didn’t know how to react or what emotion to show. I didn’t cry or say much. Instead, I tried to distract myself because I couldn’t accept the thought that I would never see her again. I think I was trying to avoid something I wasn’t ready to understand.
People across the country remember Maherin Chowdhury as a hero and a martyr because of what she did for her students. I am proud of her, and I understand why people admire her. But whenever I think of her, I don’t only think about that day. I think about the card games, the Haluwa, the resort, the way she protected me and how she always made me feel special.
There are still so many things left unsaid. I wish I could hear her stories, ask her about my dad, thank her for everything and tell her how much I miss her. I wish I could have one more ordinary evening at her house, without knowing that it would be the last.
I hope people remember her for the students she saved, but I also hope they remember the person behind that story. She was a teacher who loved her students as her own children, but she was also a sister, a wife, a mother and an aunt who made the people around her feel loved.
She was my aunt before she became a hero to the world. She will always be both to me.
