More than a decade ago, on 24 April, 2013, the earth shuddered in Savar, a town located on the outskirts of Dhaka.
It wasn't a tremor, but the horrifying collapse of the Rana Plaza, a building housing several ready-made garment factories.
However, what crumbled wasn't just concrete and steel, but the dreams and lives of 1,134 garment workers, mostly women, trapped in a tomb of fast fashion.
It wasn't a natural disaster, it was a man-made tragedy - stitched together with greed, negligence, and a culture that valued profit over people.
The Rana Plaza Tragedy stands as a haunting testament to the perils of neglecting human life in the pursuit of profit.
It was not an isolated incident but a culmination of systemic failures and ethical breaches.
Rana Plaza was a precarious edifice built on a foundation of corruption.
Structural integrity was sacrificed at the altar of cost-cutting measures, as safety regulations were flouted with wanton disregard.
Floors were added illegally, defying structural integrity.
Cracks, warnings from engineers, and complaints from workers were brushed aside like pesky threads.
The building housed garment factories churning out clothes for global brands, feeding into a relentless demand for fast fashion.
Little did consumers know the true cost – a cost borne by the people who wove their fantasies into reality.
24 April, 2013 is shrouded in an eerie premonition - cracks had widened, and the building had already tilted.
It was already a perilous trap, where the spectre of disaster loomed ominously overhead, ignored by those who held the reins of power.
Yet, pressured by factory owners, workers, many of whom were the sole breadwinners of their families, entered the building with trepidation.
Then, the inevitable happened - Rana Plaza collapsed in a monstrous cough of dust - swallowing its inhabitants whole.
Rescue efforts were a race against time, a desperate struggle to pull survivors from the many floors of the building that layered into one.
As the world watched aghast, the veil lifted to reveal the human cost of their clothing.
The stories of those trapped, the cries of the bereaved, became an unsettling yet constant reminder of the lives extinguished.
In the aftermath of the collapse, the shattered ruins of Rana Plaza bore witness to the staggering human toll exacted by corporate negligence.
The rubble became a sombre sepulchre for the countless souls who perished in the debris, their dreams and aspirations crushed beneath the weight of callous indifference.
Yet, amidst the wreckage, emerged a rallying cry for justice and accountability.
Rana Plaza's collapse wasn't just a structural failure; it was a systemic one.
It exposed the dark underbelly of the global garment industry, where profit margins were prioritised over worker safety.
Brands scrambled to distance themselves, but the stain of culpability lingered.
In the years since, there have been changes. Building codes have been tightened, and worker safety initiatives implemented.
But the scars remain – etched on the landscape in the form of a sombre memorial and etched in the hearts of the survivors and the bereaved.
Rana Plaza tragedy compels the collective consciousness to question the true cost of the clothes we wear.
Sparking global outcry, and igniting conversations on the ethical responsibilities of corporations and the imperative of upholding labour rights, the harrowing incident has been the catalyst for the fundamental shift in the fashion industry.
It served as a poignant reminder of the interconnectedness of our world, where the garments adorning distant department store shelves are often steeped in the blood, sweat, and tears of never-seen labourers.
The Rana Plaza tragedy has been a clarion call to cancel out the noise of the callous calculus of profit margins, and to prioritise people over profit, and safety over speed.
