“I used to live in a small village in Jamalpur District. I can read. I went to the village school for 3 years. I was the oldest child in our family. My dad owned a biscuit bakery in the village and my uncles worked with him there. My mum used to run a biscuit stall.

Four years ago my father died. I will tell you how it happened. One day my dad went to the market to buy some fish, late in the evening. After shopping, as he made his way home, a bhuth (evil spirit) attacked him from behind. He got a high temperature and diarrhoea. We called the doctor, the herbalist and the mullah, but after three months he died.

Then my mum had to sell the stall and the bakery. My uncles were trying to take everything. My mum got 15,000 taka for the sale. We bought a small piece of land in Dhaka at Nawabpur and moved there. My mum sent me to Dulaikal to work at a motor parts shop. I used to get 20 taka (40 pence) a week. I always handed over all my earnings to my mum.

Then my mum got married again. But my stepfather did not like me from the start, especially when I went to meet my uncles in Dulaikal. He tried to stop me going there.

I took a job as a porter. I used to load small water pump motors. I never spent a single poisa on myself. After a few weeks I asked my governor to increase my wage from 20 to 40 taka. He refused. I wanted to stay on there. Perhaps the boss might raise the wages eventually. But he sacked me.”