Year's End Accounting: The Unlawful Right to Self-Destruction The year draws to a close, and with it comes the ritual of taking stock. We tally our gains and losses, our achievements and failures, as if life were a ledger book to be balanced. But there are accounts that resist such neat arithmetic—wounds that refuse to heal into scars, questions that multiply rather than resolve. In these final weeks of December, when the world speaks of new beginnings and fresh starts, some souls find themselves contemplating the darkest of exits. The weight of accumulated sorrows, the burden of unfulfilled dreams, the crushing sense of having disappointed oneself and others—all these converge into a suffocating darkness that makes the very act of breathing feel like theft. Yet here lies a profound error in reasoning, a fundamental miscalculation in our year-end accounts. We mistake temporary shadows for permanent darkness, seasonal despair for eternal damnation. The right to end one's story—this is not a right we possess, for we are not the sole authors of our existence. Every life touches countless others in ways both seen and unseen. The mother who carried us, the friends who chose us, the strangers whose paths we've crossed—all have invested something of themselves in our continued being. To claim dominion over our own destruction is to forget that we exist within a web of connections, that our death would send ripples through lives we may never have fully understood or appreciated. The pain that drives such thoughts is real, undeniably so. But pain, like winter, is not permanent. What feels overwhelming in December may reveal itself as manageable by March. The accounting we do at year's end should include not just what we've lost, but what we've survived, not just our failures but our capacity to endure. There is no shame in seeking help, in admitting that the ledger of our lives has become too complex to balance alone. Professional counselors, trusted friends, family members, helplines—these are not signs of weakness but acknowledgments of our fundamental interconnectedness. As this year ends and another begins, perhaps our truest accounting should focus not on what we've achieved or acquired, but on the simple, radical act of continuing to exist. In a world that often feels intent on breaking us, mere survival becomes a form of quiet heroism. The right to self-destruction is an illusion born of pain and isolation. What we truly possess is something far more precious and far more difficult: the responsibility to keep living, to keep trying, to keep believing that tomorrow's accounting might reveal assets we cannot see today.

I begin this piece with a suicide note.

December 18

I leave these words behind. No one cares what a dead person has written, I know. That I'm still alive—who does that matter to? I understand now how helpless a person must be to choose the path of suicide. All I've done while living is cause everyone pain. How much more? Tomorrow is my birthday. No one will have to trouble themselves remembering two dates for me. I will complete my mission tomorrow. I apologize to everyone. If I have hurt anyone, knowingly or unknowingly, I am truly and deeply sorry. While living, I received no one's forgiveness, no one's love. I got nothing at all. In death, surely I will. If nothing else, at least I'll receive forgiveness. Tomorrow my parents will go to my father's office picnic. And my little brother will play cricket all day. Everyone will be very happy. Me too. My joy is the joy of ensuring everyone's happiness forever. I have gathered and hidden the chemicals necessary for suicide. Tomorrow I will keep myself very happy all day. My life's last birthday will remain memorable for me before my death and for everyone else after my death. Tomorrow when I leave, I will show everyone that I existed too. You never noticed, perhaps you never had time to pay attention, but I was here. I will finish the deed in the evening before my parents return. I could no longer hold onto my patience. They say people who commit suicide go to hell. Good. To escape this world I am going to hell, I know I must bear the consequences of my actions; but I won't have to endure the punishment I receive in this world for things I never did.

Like everyone else, I too lived all this time believing I would live. I never imagined I would have to die so soon. There is only one sorrow—I am not leaving for a distant land for someone distant. The one I am dying for is my father, my very creator. I am compelled to commit suicide for him. Because of him, even my last hope is gone today. I am tormented beyond endurance by mental cruelty. (Father tells everyone he has never raised his hand against his children. Today this makes me laugh so much. What cruel self-satisfaction!) My crime is that despite taking the exam twice, why didn't I get into medical college? Everyone becomes a doctor, everyone's father is so happy. Why couldn't I make my father happy? Why must my father be diminished before his colleagues, before society, because of me? Father's regret is why he didn't kill me by putting salt in my mouth after birth. My crime is why I visit my friends' homes. Don't I feel shame mixing with them? What would happen if a girl like me died? My crime is why I go to the market to buy my necessities. Am I not a girl? Why do I forget that I shouldn't step outside the house gate? And my greatest crime—I didn't get into public university. I wanted to enroll in private university, complete my honors, take the BCS exam and become a magistrate. Dreaming is a very great crime for those who can't get admission anywhere. Despite my father having the means, he won't admit me to private university due to his stubbornness. Whatever he thinks, understands, he must do exactly that. In this world, no one but him understands correctly, speaks correctly. I only wanted to grow up. I wanted to advance my family one step forward. I wanted to show everyone that even without getting into medical college, one can reach a good stage in life. But I couldn't, because I am a girl. Why should girls study so much? If they study, it should be free or for little money. What benefit would my father get from educating me so much? After graduation, even to get a job, bribes would be needed. Does anyone get jobs automatically after studying in private universities? Who will give so much money? What great obligation does father have to waste money educating a girl? Then marriage would also cost at least four to five lakh taka. Don't I feel shame? What benefit is there for a girl like me to remain alive in this world? So many people die—why doesn't Allah see my father? Being born a girl, I remain a burden on the family. On top of that, I can't get admission anywhere. Don't I feel shame eating rice? I must account to father for how much money I waste. How do I still show my face to people? My very existence is a sin. Actually, I failed to make my father understand that if he just let me study honors, he would have no other worries. Girls nowadays don't depend on their families. I wouldn't either. His belief is that nothing happens without money these days. I don't know why Allah raised such great hope in my heart, and why He didn't fulfill it.

Today, being a Muslim who knows how to read the Quran, I must still choose the path of suicide. Did I make a terrible mistake by having a dream? Or was being born a girl the mistake? I know my mother's hands and feet are bound. Despite her wishes, she cannot speak for me because there exists a word called "divorce" which is terrifying for every woman. Father is a religious man. Religion speaks of giving divorce. Everyone in the area says I should study, but my father will not spend any more money educating me. Father is looking for a boy for me. Since I cannot become a doctor, I have no right to education. Father has already found a prospect. An ignorant family, but they have lots of money. The whole family lives in London. They have houses and cars in Sylhet. I will be happy. From pre-primary until today I have never been second in class, and how can I—that very I—abandon my studies to remain confined in a room! My friends will all study, grow up, while I live like an ignorant person with an ignorant husband. 
 For three months now I've been sitting at home with a purposeless future. Everyone asks what face I have to remain alive in this world. I can't bear everyone's words anymore. Today even false accusations I never committed are being heaped on me. I am leaving. What else is there to do? I want my father to understand after my death that his beloved daughter died because of him. For as long as he lives, every night let him think at least once that he made a mistake, that he wronged me. What I wanted was my due as a human being, but he deprived me of it. He did not fulfill a child's rights. I will call this death of mine "murder." Those who are directly or indirectly responsible for this murder of mine—may none of them sleep peacefully. The pain I carry in this chest as I go to die—may Allah give them a thousand times more pain even before their death.

The very first word of the Quran is "Iqra"—meaning, "Read." The full verse means: Read in the name of your Lord. I didn't ask for much. I only wanted to do that very reading, and today all this for that. Today I wonder—Allah—there is a hadith: "Seek knowledge even if you have to go to distant China." From the cradle after birth to the grave—that is, until death—why are we told to pursue knowledge? Was my desire really sinful? Everyone calls me bad for wanting to study. How bad am I, isn't that right???
 I will never cause anyone pain again. I am leaving. May you all be well.

About the Birthday

I cried all night on the 18th. At some point I fell asleep while crying. I woke up very early on the 19th. I bathed, wore new clothes, and greeted my parents. They left for the picnic. I began thinking about what I would do all day. It hurt terribly to think of dying. Everything I looked at around me seemed beautiful. Why is the world so beautiful? I don't want to die. I want to live to fulfill my last wish. But there is no one in this world who will come stand beside me as a guardian. Someone who will take all my responsibilities on their shoulders, help me fulfill my wish. So today everything ends for me.

I was thinking all these things. Around 6 AM, one of my sisters from Rajshahi called to wish me happy birthday. When she asked what my plans were for today, I said I hadn't thought of anything particular. She studies at Rajshahi University. She had been to your career talk there, was a follower on Facebook. She believed your words had brought many changes to her life. On her advice, I had been reading your posts on Facebook for several days—I don't like or comment, but I enjoy them. She told me, "Sushanto bhai is coming to Habiganj today at the invitation of the Rotaract Club. The program is supposed to start at 9:00. You could attend. If you leave now, you can still make it. Go, you'll enjoy it." Somehow thinking it over, I got ready a little later and left. I was very late getting there. When I arrived, I saw the program had started late too. I sat in a corner chair and listened to your words.

 Of course, I had read much of what you said in your Facebook posts. But seeing you face to face, I could almost touch your emotion. Hearing every word about the pain in your own life, it felt as if those were my own words. At one point you said that from intense resentment, pain, and despair, you had once wanted to take your own life. One day you brought poison home. As you were thinking of drinking the poison, your mother's face floated before you. You thought, this life of yours isn't your own creation. It's a gift given by your mother. How could you yourself end the life your mother gave you? What right did you have to disregard all the pain your mother endured to bring you into this world, and do whatever you pleased for your own satisfaction? You thought, even if you couldn't be brilliant like ten other bright people, let's at least stay alive as one dim person and see what happens. You had said, the biggest thing in this world isn't success, isn't greatness, isn't a good career, isn't owning lots of money; the biggest thing in this world is simply staying alive. Just staying alive accomplishes many things. Because you simply stayed alive that day, today you stand before us. Listening to your words made my head spin. It felt as if in that entire hall, you were speaking these words to me alone. As if someone was whispering in my ear, "For those who misunderstand you, if only to prove them wrong, you must live. See, one day you will become very great. Just don't die. That's all it takes!"

I listened to your words spellbound for 5 hours. After the program ended, many people went to meet you and take pictures, many took your autograph, and despite your repeated refusal, some even touched your feet in salutation. Brother, I was there too. I had no paper or pen with me. I borrowed from someone else to get your autograph. I don't know why, but you wrote for me, "Live to dream. Dream to live." I stood there holding the paper. I wanted very much to touch your feet in salutation. I couldn't bring myself to approach you out of shyness. From a distance, I just kept thinking, how did you know, how did you know??

Perhaps you wrote those same words for many others. Perhaps many others heard your story and dreamed anew of living. I know no one will ever know, but I know that it's only because of you that I'm still alive in the light and air of this beautiful world. It's only because of you that I didn't lose to life. It's only because of you that the cup of poison never reached my lips that day.

You had said that on November 2nd, 2011, on your birthday, your rebirth had occurred. Let me tell you, on my birthday, in exactly the same way, you gave me new life. My parents brought me into this world. You helped me stay alive in this world. I don't have an older brother. You became my older brother for life.

Brother, one thing. Why do you prohibit young people from coming to your seminars? Are young people forbidden to dream of staying alive?

My story.

The year is almost over. This year I've spoken for hours and hours at several career gatherings. There's been much hardship, both money and time have been spent, I've had to endure many harsh words from envious and critical people, yet I'm happy. Why? Let me tell you about today. This morning I woke up to a call from a mother. Her son studies at North South. Due to some very personal reasons, he's mentally depressed. The mother thinks that if I spend some time with her son, perhaps he might smile again like before, come and embrace his mother and say, "Ma, look, look, how beautiful this winter sunlight is!" The lady regularly reads my writing. She earnestly requested that when I go to Dhaka, I should call her. She wants to meet me with her son.

So many people call, meet, ask for advice. Sometimes I feel tired, yet I talk, try to help. This year I've counseled many over the phone. Let me share one person's feedback. "Brother, until yesterday all my plans revolved around my own death. After talking with you, I felt that if not for anyone else, I'll live just for myself. Whether anyone loves me or not, I'll live by loving myself. As long as Allah wills, I'll remain in this world. Stay well, brother. I'll pray for you every day after my prayers."

An incident from November 26th. A message you wake up to can make your day's beginning beautifully different. I'm sharing exactly a message I received that morning.

"Identity is more important than existence." Or "We can never say when and where life will take us................" and some other such words.

Brother, your words have smoothed my path. I have become an assistant judge today. Your words were with me as inspiration, are with me, and will remain with me. Stay well, brother. I'll fulfill my wish to see you in person very soon. Please pray for me…… Salute, brother.

A phone number was given below the message. I called. He couldn't answer. Later he called back himself. He graduated and did his master's in law from Rajshahi University. After yesterday's BJS exam result was announced, along with his close ones, he remembered me too. If only he could understand what a great achievement this is for me! In his own words: "Brother, I've been following you on Facebook since 2013. I never sent a friend request. I had your mobile number too. I never called. Perhaps I was waiting for today's moment. I regularly watched your posts. I always felt you were talking about my own life. Some of your words became so embedded in my mind that whenever I felt I was losing myself, your words would give me new dreams of living. I went through very bad times. When I was teaching at Stamford, the authority decided to lay off some faculty. Being junior, I was on that list too. But I didn't break down. Whenever I felt sad, I would read your writings again and again. A kind of courage would come into my chest. For today's moment, I'm grateful to you, brother."

There are countless more such incidents. If I started writing, it would never end.

Needless to say, the first two parts of this note didn't come to me exactly as written. My little sister wrote it in her own way and sent it. I arranged the writing in my own way. However, I didn't change her thoughts at all. Now let me say something about the thoughts that led me to write this note.

• I'm asking our parents, "Well, are all the best or successful people in the world doctors and engineers? Does life end if you don't get into medical or engineering? Who gave you the right to pass such a simplified judgment on life?"

• Your expectation from your child could be that they live with a healthy body and a cheerful mind. Please don't do anything to them or say anything to them that makes them forget to respect themselves. One who respects themselves will never keep themselves small forever. They will become great, they must!

• The achievement isn't studying at the best institution, but doing the best work from your own position. What's the job of the best institution? To create the best people, right? Rather, teach them this knowledge. Encourage them. This increases their sense of responsibility. If anyone brightens your face, it will be your own child, not someone else's child.

• Does life end if you study at a private university? Are all those who study at private universities devoid of understanding of life? A few days ago, I went to speak at a career gathering at East West University. I have many successful friends who graduated from private universities. My experience doesn't say that at all. Come out of old notions. Universities don't make students great, students make universities great.

• Accept it—not everyone can do everything. I studied computer engineering but couldn't become a computer engineer. This is my failure. I thank God for my failure. If someone had forced me to become an engineer, people might have pointed fingers at me and said, "Look, look—see how terrible CUET's product is!" I'm happy. Why should people curse my university because of me? Let them curse me, not my mother.

• Some people never praise any good work you do, but always criticize your mistakes. It's better to pay them less attention. Small-minded people don't have the generosity to praise. I love critics more than anyone else. That's fine. But the critic who diminishes your self-confidence—there's no need to love them. Do you really have time to care so much? Life is yours. You yourself are the most reliable person to decide what to keep in your life and what not to. What is success? Living without regret—that's success. Nothing more. Only those who praise have the right to criticize.

• I've seen that just staying alive accomplishes many things. If you disappear, no one really cares except those very close to you. So, stay alive. Your death would deeply disturb some people who find comfort in wishing for your demise. If only for their sake... live! Simply being alive is the greatest revenge. So, if only for your own sake... live! Live for yourself. Live for others.

• There's no point in dying for someone. The person you're thinking of dying for—how much do they really think about you? If they thought of you, would they let you die? No one in this world is indispensable. Life doesn't stop for anyone—it only pauses sometimes. Let them be happy in their own way. You be happy in yours. Being well is what matters most.

• Never believe that you're the most miserable person in the world, that you're suffering the most. You can't even imagine—perhaps the world's most sorrowful person speaks with the most beautiful smile. You cannot even conceive of their pain.

• In life, it's better to experience pain than to receive nothing at all. The pain that doesn't destroy you—you can, if you choose, transform it into your greatest strength.

• You'll have conflicts with your parents, feel deeply hurt, and think they don't want your good, don't love you at all, that they're your enemies—and much more like this. About this, I'll say only one thing. Life has taught me this much in the end: my father was right all along, my mother's tears didn't lie. After wasting so much time, I've returned to the very path they showed me. I believe God dwells within them. Sometimes what they say is nothing but God's guidance.