Standing on the staircase of No. 677, Road 32, Dhanmondi, it is easy to believe in ghosts. The imagination needs only a little rein to hear the sound of heavy boots, fleeing footsteps, childish screams and the thud of rifle-butts. The bedrooms, viewable through heavy grilled gates, are furnished in the fashion of 40 years ago. Such articles of clothing as are visible are shrouded in plastic. The lights are dim, the passageways narrow. Most morbid of all are the spots of blood on the stairs, preserved in glass cases. In the world’s most macabre shrine to murder, breathing is simultaneously oppressive and a borderline offence.
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