In a couple of days time the whole nation will be celebrating Eid, the festival of slaughtering. It's a time for happy stories. Time to love and to be loved. I have talked to my mother and my aunts yesterday. They enriched me with their version of happiness. I wish I could actually tell one of those stories.

The problem is, I just can't get the 24 murdered factory workers out of my head which is a complete new feeling to me. Not that I'm overwhelmed with grief or anger. I don't even know any of their names. Don't know whether they were loved or not. Like most of my fellow Bangladeshi's I have managed to ignore such incidents many times in the past. And I convinced myself to believe that I'm not the one to blame. This is our way of life. It happens so often to so many of us. We have just learnt to live with it.

I wish at least I could say those Twenty four poor factory workers were not victims of state sanctioned terror. I wish I could say it was just an accidental misfortune and justice will be done upon those who are responsible. But I know that won't happen. The right to justice and Impunity in our country are strictly reserved for the rich factory owners.

This time, I refuse to accept that it's just another 24 dead bodies. Another sad memory. We have at least one such or even bigger memory for each year of our industrial advancement. Every year poor people are killed in the garment factories. They are killed in the ferries. Hundreds at a time not just one or two. Over 300 hundred poor laborers die each year in ship breaking yards. And None receives justice. Not a single one.

A syndicate of dreadful criminals are controlling our criminal justice system. The parliament and the cabinet have become another lair of the Chamber of Commerce to protect the criminals and their interests. I'm ashamed to say that the army backed 2006-08 government was much better than our current parliamentary democracy. At least back then people were not treated differently. They were not discriminated just because of poverty. And most Importantly, the powerful criminals were afraid to commit such crimes as they knew that they are not above the law.

I wish death was just another chapter of life. Or I so want to believe in a horror story- the 24 murdered soul to haunt the murderers for the rest of their lives, force them to confess their crime.