A night of tragedy in Mymensingh

It was meant to be a peaceful family visit, a reprieve from the ordinary rhythms of life.

Kamrul Islam, 35, and his pregnant wife, Ratna Begum, 30, had travelled to Palgaon village in Mymensingh’s Bhaluka upazila, their young son in tow.

They had come to her parents’ home, a place that should have symbolised warmth and sanctuary. Instead, it became the backdrop of an unfathomable tragedy.

The evening began unremarkably, with a shared meal among family members.

Kamrul and Ratna retired early to their room, leaving their son under the care of Ratna’s mother, Monowara Begum.

The house settled into a quiet lull. But by 10 pm, the child, missing the presence of his parents, began to stir.

Monowara approached the couple's door, knocking gently at first, then with increasing urgency.

Her calls went unanswered. Alarmed, she summoned other family members.

Together, they forced open the door, stepping into a scene of devastation.

Ratna lay lifeless on the floor, her body drenched in blood.

Beside her, Kamrul’s motionless form was discovered, a scarf around his neck telling the tale of his last desperate act.

The room that had once sheltered shared dreams and whispered hopes now bore witness to an unbearable loss.

Police arrived swiftly, taking the bodies into custody.

Humayun Kabir, officer-in-vharge of Bhaluka Model Police Station, shared his preliminary suspicions.

Kamrul, plagued by turmoil and anger, may have taken his wife’s life before ending his own.

The exact details, shrouded in silence, hinted at a family feud whose roots ran deep.

Ratna was not only a wife and mother but also an expectant mother, carrying the promise of a second child.

The weight of her unborn child’s loss added another layer to the tragedy, leaving those left behind grappling with grief and unanswered questions.

What led Kamrul to commit such a horrific act may never be fully understood.

What remains is a heartbroken family, a young child suddenly bereft of parents, and a community left to mourn the incomprehensible.

In the quiet corners of their home, the echoes of their lives remain—fragile reminders of a love that could not withstand the tempest of despair.