By: RO Maung Shwe
Last year, 17-year-old Nur Mostofa, like many of his peers, joined the masses on the streets during the July uprising. He marched in protest against the killing of hundreds by law enforcement and demanded the resignation of then-prime minister Sheikh Hasina.
On August 5, despite his father’s repeated warnings, Nur joined a protest in front of the Eidgaon Police Station in Cox’s Bazar. That decision cost him his life. He was shot during the demonstration, and although he was rushed to a hospital, he succumbed to his injuries the following afternoon, on August 6.
Yet, Nur has been denied the honour reserved for the fallen heroes of the uprising. His name is missing from the official list of martyrs. Why? Because Nur was a Rohingya—stateless in the eyes of the country he was born and raised in.
His father, Shafiul Alam, fled Myanmar in 1992 to escape persecution and settled in Eidgaon upazila of Cox’s Bazar. It was there that his wife, Nur Begum, gave birth to Nur in 2007. The following year, a birth certificate was issued for Nur by the Islamabad Union Parishad. However, under Bangladesh’s laws, children born to non-citizen parents are not granted citizenship. Despite being born on Bangladeshi soil, Nur was never officially recognised as a citizen.
At the time of his death, Nur was a 10th-grade madrasa student, preparing to sit for his Dakhil examination. His life was steeped in the everyday reality of Bangladesh—he studied here, lived here, dreamed here. And ultimately, he died here—fighting for justice.
Nur’s father, Shafiul Alam, recalled that on August 4, when he urged his son to stay away from the protests, Nur replied by showing him a video clip of Abu Sayed, another youth who had died in the uprising. “If Abu Sayed can give his life, if hundreds of our brothers can, why can’t I?” he asked his father.
On the morning of August 5, as he snuck out to join the protest, a friend spotted him. Nur pleaded with him not to inform his father. Later that day, a bullet pierced through Nur’s back and exited through his chest, according to the inquest report. He was immediately taken to a hospital, but his injuries were too severe. Nur breathed his last on August 6.
“My son was born in this country. He studied in a local madrasa. If he hadn’t been killed, he would be sitting for his Dakhil exams now,” said Shafiul Alam. “But because we are Rohingya and lack national ID cards, Nur’s name was removed from the list of martyrs. I don’t care about money or compensation. What hurts is the denial of recognition. Nur was born here, educated here, and died for this land. He deserves to be honoured.”
Nur’s mother, Nur Begum, added in anguish, “Our biggest crime is that we are Rohingya. What else can explain the humiliation and lack of respect, even after my son gave his life for this country?”
Nur’s story remained in the shadows until March 26, when July Records, an organisation that documents the atrocities of the July uprising, unearthed his story and shared it on social media. Since then, calls for justice and recognition have begun to grow louder.
On April 17, July Records and the Student Alliance for Democracy organised a human chain at the Raju Memorial Sculpture on the Dhaka University campus, demanding immediate recognition for Nur as a martyr.
Speaking at the event, Umama Fatema, a prominent leader of the movement, declared, “This is not about compensation—it’s about justice. We are calling on the state to grant honorary citizenship to Nur’s family and recognise his sacrifice.”
In a further show of support, activist Koli Kayez and her platform Empowering Our Fighters submitted a memorandum to Faruk E Azam, adviser to the Ministry of Liberation War Affairs, on April 4.
When contacted, Amirul Islam, personal aide to the adviser, confirmed that the issue has reached the ministry’s attention. “The adviser is aware of the matter, and the ministry is currently reviewing the documents submitted,” he said.
For now, Nur Mostofa remains a martyr without a country—his sacrifice real, but his recognition denied.
