On Thursday morning, the Ershad School field beside Korail slum was a scene of quiet determination. Dozens of young volunteers, many of them victims of the recent fire themselves, tirelessly packed food, distributed water, and helped traumatized families who had lost everything.

Among them were siblings who have long devoted their lives to volunteering. Jony Akter, a fourth-year undergraduate student and long-time resident of A Block, had her home and all possessions consumed by the blaze.

“I have no expectation from the government anymore,” she said, standing barefoot on the ash-covered field. “Since the fire, I have yet to see any representative of the government. The only people I saw working during this disaster were NGO workers and private volunteers.”

With a mix of bitterness and pain, Jony added, “The government is a dead organism. Such a massive fire took place, yet authorities failed to act. It feels like they didn’t even try to extinguish it.”

Jony’s losses went far beyond property. Her academic and legal identity — all certificates from PSC to HSC and her NID card — turned to ashes. “Everything I achieved in my life is gone,” she said.

Recalling the chaos of that night, Jony said her mother was home with her sister’s children when the fire broke out. The children were injured as they rushed outside, and Jony, returning from work, could not reach her home in time. She estimated the fire started around 5:02–5:03 pm and burned through midnight.

“We’ve lived here for 17 years as renters. Whether the fire was accidental or intentional, we have doubts,” she said. Jony expressed suspicion that authorities may have allowed the fire to spread to advance eviction plans linked to nearby development work. She also said she called 999 at least 21 times, but the initial fire trucks arrived without water.

Her younger brother, Taisir Al Alif, voiced the same despair. “We have spent our lives helping others. Now when we need help, no one comes forward. It is heartbreaking.” He described losing everything — from the TV and fridge to the stove — after rushing the children to safety.

Other volunteers shared similar pain. Sadia Jannat Mow said the fire destroyed homes and eroded human trust. Returning the next morning, she found her house broken into, with belongings, including her LED TV, stolen. “For years, I believed people stood beside each other in trouble. Now I see how few truly do,” she said.

Monika, another resident, recounted losing everything she had rebuilt after moving into a new room six months earlier. “Cookware, wardrobe, gas cylinder — all gone. All my certificates and records disintegrated into ashes,” she said. Her family also lost NID copies, smart cards, and savings records. “No authority assured us that things would be fixed. We heard promises, but nobody came.”

Despite their own losses, Monika and other volunteers continue to help their neighbors. She said that in her circle alone, 15–17 families’ homes were completely destroyed, yet most volunteers, facing immense mental and financial stress, keep working.

Notable among them is Ratna Akter, Taisir Hossain, Sadia Akter Monisha, Purnima Akter, Shapna Akter, and Asma Akter.

Even recognized heroes like 10-year-old Anwarul Islam Nayeem, praised nationwide for assisting firefighters during the 2019 FR Tower fire, were left homeless. On November 25, he and his mother spent the night under the open sky.

In Korail, hundreds of children are involved with NGOs, often as youth workers or community volunteers. They have devoted their lives to helping others — yet today, many have no home to sleep in.

“Who will stand beside those who have always stood beside others?” asked volunteers, raising a haunting moral question. This disaster shows that when volunteers lose their homes, memories, and identities, who will volunteer for them?

Despite the loss, the spirit of Korail’s young volunteers remains unbroken. They continue tirelessly helping neighbors, standing as a testament to humanity amid devastation. Korail’s ashes are not just evidence of a fire, but a stark reminder of a community abandoned when it needed support most.