Abdulshakour, 43, a father to seven children, once had a life centered around his family and work. Everything changed after the events of 25th August 2017. In this picture, he sits while his son stands beside him, carrying the bags that hold the few belongings they managed to bring from home.

In Myanmar, 43-year-old Abdulshakour made his living as a fisherman, casting his nets into the river and selling his catch at the local markets. Father to seven children, life for Abdulshakour revolved around his family and his work until the events of 25th August 2017 changed everything.

When conflict erupted around his village, with neighboring areas being targeted, panic and chaos ensued. "Everyone was scrambling to escape," Abdulshakour recounts. In the chaos, he was separated from his family for a harrowing 25 days. Their reunion came during their journey to Bangladesh, a path they took by boat.

Given the constraints of the escape, refugees were advised to carry only one essential item. For Abdulshakour, the choice was obvious - his fishing net. "I believed it would be useful here," he shares. However, a physical impediment later prevented him from fishing in his new environment.

Life at the refugee camp presents its own set of challenges. "The camp has remained the same size, but its population has swelled since 2022," he notes. To supplement their meals, families sometimes resort to selling their vegetable rations to diversify their diet. "We can't always get fish," Abdulshakour adds, emphasizing the need for varied nutrition. The birth of one of his children in these conditions amplifies the reality of their situation.

Amidst it all, a house number from his home in Myanmar remains with him, a connection to a life paused. It serves as a tangible link to the memories and the existence he once knew.

Connecting with his two brothers-in-law back in Myanmar, he's updated about the ongoing constraints that limit their movements to safer areas. For Abdulshakour, his heart remains tethered to his homeland. "I deeply miss my land and my family," he says, echoing the sentiment of many, "and hold onto the hope of returning."