Light went out in Manikganj

That two police officers died while trying to rescue hostages during the terrorist attack on Gulshan's Holey Artisan Bakery has been reported worldwide. That in the death of one of them, Mohammad Rabiul Karim, Bangladesh lost an assistant commissioner of the Detective Branch from Dhaka Metropolitan Police is widely known. But it's his family and the locals from his native village of Katigram in Manikganj who know it best: just how much Bangladesh lost when we lost Rabiul.

“He wore all types of clothes,” says widow, Umme Salma, 34, who is expecting their second child. “Lungi, t-shirt and gumchha: he used to dress like that when returning from university class, because he wanted to observe how bus employees interact with ordinary people.”

Rabiul, who was locally known as Kamrul, was really shocked when the bus conductor addressed him using the overly informal Bangla version of 'you', 'tui', instead of the polite 'aapni' form. “He experienced that only when he wore expensive clothes was he properly respected,” she says.

Family and friends recall how on one occasion when Rabiul was posted as an assistant commissioner with Rab-3, while not in uniform his motorcycle was randomly stopped in Dhamrai by an on-duty police officer. Despite showing the officer his papers he was asked to go to the police station, which he did. As all his papers were valid he left the place soon thereafter, without ever having disclosed his identity. Rabiul was not one to seek preferential treatment because of his job.

To ask around the village about the son of late Abdul Khalek and elderly mother Karimun Nessa is to hear compliment after compliment. Rabiul was a patriot. He was a social worker. He was polite and universally admired. He encouraged people to stand beside the helpless, poor and disabled and inspired all to be decent human beings. Two days before his death, locals say, he distributed clothes to disadvantaged villagers.

In 2011, Rabiul founded a school for children with disabilities under the name Beaconing Light Organisation of Mankind and Society. He bore all expenses for the school's 36 students, including uniforms, tiffin food, books, stationery and equipment, and the school cycle van. Students and guardians could avail themselves of free medical treatment thrice a year thanks to Rabiul.

“He wanted to build a hospital on the campus for our students and the poor,” says Jahangir Alam, the school's administrative director. “He talked of an old person's home for the destitute; and he hoped to establish an agricultural project to fund these institutions. We already started by planting a banana garden on 137 decimals of land owned by Rabiul's uncle; and we've started raising fish in our pond.”

Nowadays teachers, students and parents are worried about the school's future, though Rabiul's youngest brother Shamsuzzaman Shams, who is Jahangirnagar University's correspondent for Prothom Alo newspaper, says that as the school was Rabiul's dream his family will ensure it runs according to his plan. Many others have also pledged to support the school, he says.

In 2007, he also established a kindergarten in his village, the Kabi Nazrul Bidyasiri, fulfilling a dream of his late father.

But he also excelled in other areas. An avid cricketer, footballer and athlete, Rabiul sang songs, wrote poems and played harmonium and flute. “He was addicted to buying flutes!” says his wife.

These extra-curricular talents made Rabiul popular at the sports carnivals and festivals in which he was involved. “There's not a single organisation in this area,” says Krishnapur union chairman Biplob Hossain Selim, “that didn't take assistance from Rabiul.”

Upon passing the 30th BCS examinations after completing his Master's in Bangla literature from Jahangirnagar University, he joined the police service. But a career in policing wasn't his original dream. As a student he hoped to be a farmer. Whenever he got the chance he worked cropland with other farmers. He was a son of the soil.

On that fateful day, just 30 minutes before he was killed Rabiul rang his mother to excuse himself from attending an iftar party planned for that day. “I feel so proud of Rabiul,” says a teary Karimun Nessa. “He sacrificed his life for the country.”

His wife remembers him as a little mischievous. “He used to call me on the phone saying he was far away, but he was standing outside the door! I was so surprised when he'd knock!” She says their 8 years of marriage were happy ones.

Now days pass in uncertainty. Their seven-year-old son Sajidul Karim Sami still looks for his father every morning. And on August 1, 2016 Rabiul's wife is due to undergo a caesarean section, when the family's newest edition will enter this world.