Carpenter Nidarshan Barua was standing at Chaumuhani station, the main square of Ramu. He saw a group of people making fiery speeches against the Buddhists. Many others were coming in pickups and trucks to join the crowd. It grew to a few thousands. By his reckoning, it had become a 6,000-strong crowd. The mob wanted to attack the Buddhists. Ramu Upazila Chairman Sohel Sarwar Kazal came and tried to pacify the mob. They started for the Maitri Bihar and Nidarshan followed them. They were vandalising Buddhists' houses on the way and then finally wanted to torch the Bihar. Some Muslims came and tried to restrain them, in vain. The Bihar went up in flames and Nidarshan slipped into the betel nut garden and hid himself.
9:00pm
College student Anik Barua was at the upazila complex after finishing his computer lessons at a shop close by. He saw a procession marching towards Chaumuhuni station. “Slap the Buddhists”, “Burn them down” -- the slogans reverberated through the street. Anik followed them to the square. He was baffled as to why they wanted to kill the Buddhists. There he asked a Muslim boy whom he knew about what was going on. The boy told him about a Buddhist man who had posted something on Facebook that hurt Islam.
Scared, Anik rushed home. He told his family members to stay home.
Then came the first wave of attack; and then the second wave. The mob did not do much other than battering up a few houses. Anik was relieved. He thought it was over. But he was wrong. The third wave came in a much bigger and fiercer form. They torched down houses and the Bihar.
Anik ran for his life into the night.
9:00pm
Shapla Barua was doing her household chores when she heard the sound of the processions. Great roars of human voices were coming from everywhere. It seemed they would be upon her any time. Shapla was scared and trembling like a leaf.
She called her mother, who lives in another neighbourhood. Her mother could hardly speak. Her house had been attacked and torched, and she had run into the open field in the darkness. Shapla shivered.
She waited and heard the ominous noise getting louder. There was no electricity. It was dark and yet she could see the skies lighted up. Somewhere the fire was burning. Somewhere somebody's house or a monastery was being gutted. She shivered in terror.
Then she heard the noise growing even louder and getting closer. The crushing noise of corrugated tins was clear. The attackers were just in front of her house, breaking down everything. She bolted out with her children and ran into the dark field behind her house.
9:00pm
Twenty to thirty madrasa students gathered near the central Jame mosque at Ramu station. They brought out a procession and chanted slogans against the Buddhist and went to Baruapara.
9:30pm
Pragyananda Bhikkhu has dedicated his whole life to the monastery. It was his whole life too. He had heard that Muslims were attacking Buddhist homes. But he had never imagined in his wildest dream that they would attack the monastery. But they did.
They came in a small group. They were using the harshest possible abuses. They threw a few brickbats and went away. But they came back -- this time, with a bigger force.
They started breaking down the locked gate. Pragyananda did not know what to do. But then they were pouring in. He turned around and ran into the backyard.
There he stood still as the marauders torched the monastery. The flames grew bigger, rising in leaps and bounds. He could not stand the flames any longer. He started walking towards the open field and watched the inferno. Inside him, everything had gone cold. He did not feel anything. He only felt that his own family was being slaughtered in his presence.
10:00pm
It was a long day for Itimoni Barua at the Ramu Police Station. She had cooked, cleaned and fed the police force. Only then did she come out and was standing at the grocery shop to buy rice for home. From the police station, she was hearing this chaos, but she could not understand what it was all about. Now she saw the angry people chanting slogans: “Slap the Buddhists with shoes”, “Burn them down”.
Itimoni felt something ominous coming. She hurried home where her small daughter was waiting. She was about to start cooking when they came. It was dark and the crowd was a brutal force. They were hitting the tin fence hard with rods and machetes.
Itimoni quietly grabbed her daughter and slipped into the betel nut garden in the backyard. She stood there petrified. She covered her daughter's mouth with one hand so that she would not cry out loud. At four in the morning, the attackers were gone and she came back to find her battered house. Itimoni collapsed silently on the ground -- unconscious.
11:30pm
A group of seven policemen led by the officer-in-charge of Ramu Police Station appeared at Sima Bihar. Anxious Buddhists had gathered there. The OC told them not to worry and go to sleep. A little later, a procession of marauders came, chanting slogans. They went away after battering a few houses. Then came another group. They went away too. And finally came a big group. They started pelting stones and entered the Bihar. They set fire to it and went away. The Buddhists who had fled to the betel nut gardens and rice fields came back and tried to douse the fire in vain.
1:00am
Subir Barua has a respected position in Buddhist community at Ramu. He was elected a member of Fatekhar Kul union. Subir was observing gradual developments of demonstrations since 9:00pm from the station.
He was in hiding along with some other community members near the Sima Bihar monastery. Around 1:00am Sunday when two separate processions were coming from the eastern and southern sides of the monastery, Subir could hear the commotion of devastation. He called Shreemad Satyapriya Mahathero, head of the Sima Bihar, to lock the monastery and leave the place quickly.
1:00am
Satyapriya Mahathero, 83, felt like a stone. In his lifetime, he has never experienced anything like this. All his life he had preached “All lives on earth be happy”. But tonight, all unhappiness had poured on this little settlement.
In his feeble feet, Mohathero paced around the courtyard of the monastery. He could see the skies lit up with flames. He could hear screams. He could hear but could not believe. Then the attackers came. What could he do? He can walk only when supported by someone. He would die here, he thought. But then helping hands rescued him. Monks carted him to the field beyond the monastery just as the attackers stormed in. He had survived. But his monastery did not. He sat down and wept.
His cries went out to the skies above. To the world around. To humanity. Nobody listened.
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