Blind but brilliant: Chuadanga's Zahurul sees the world through his hands

In the quiet village of Buropara in Chuadanga's Alamdanga upazila, where the hum of engines mingles with the rustle of paddy fields, lives a man whose vision lies not in his eyes, but in his heart and hands.

Zahurul Islam Mangal, a sexagenarian mechanic, cannot see the world around him, yet he perceives machines with uncanny precision.

Blind since birth, Zahurul has mastered the intricate language of nuts, bolts and gears, guided solely by touch, instinct and faith.

He knows by heart which wrench to pick, which bolt to tighten and where the pulse of a machine falters. His fingers glide across metal surfaces, tracing faults invisible to others and with effortless grace, he brings life back to lifeless engines.

For more than a decade, Zahurul has repaired everything from bicycles, vans and shallow engines to power trolleys and tube wells -- entirely on his own. His fascination began early, at the age of seven, when he watched and listened to a local mechanic, absorbing the rhythm of the craft.

In 1984, he opened his first repair shop near Chuadanga Sadar Hospital. Later, he returned to his native village to expand his skills, taking on the challenge of shallow engines, power trolleys and a range of complex machines. Since 2004, his modest workshop in Buropara has been a lifeline for farmers and villagers alike.

"Being able to work without sight is Allah's blessing," Zahurul said, his weathered hands moving skillfully over an engine. "I may not have eyes to see outside, but I see with the eyes of my heart. My hands tell me where a screw should go and which wrench to use."

During a recent visit, UNB's correspondent watched Zahurul at work, diagnosing a farmer's faulty shallow engine merely by turning its handle. Within minutes, the machine was running smoothly once again. Without resting, he hurried off to another home to repair a tube well, his movements brisk and assured.

"Even after 40 years of working with machines, I cannot fix a single nut," said local farmer Taijal Sheikh with admiration. "But Zahurul bhai fixes machines without seeing. It is a gift from Allah."

Another villager, Nazim Uddin, echoed the sentiment, saying, "Though blind, he can dismantle an entire engine and reassemble it perfectly. His work is flawless."

Zahurul's trade is more than a livelihood; it is his dignity and devotion. "This is the work that keeps my household going," he said quietly. "My sons and daughters live separately, and I do not ask anything from them. What hurts is that society often neglects people with disabilities."

His blindness deepened around 10 years ago, and villagers recall that timely financial help might have saved his sight. Yet, apart from a small disability allowance, no substantial government support ever came his way.

Even so, Zahurul's resolve remains unshaken. "I will serve people as long as I live," he said with a faint smile. "This work is my strength. I want to spend my days praising Allah and working with my hands."

Minaz Uddin Biswas, chairman of Ailhash Union Parishad, spoke highly of him. "Despite losing his sight, his hands work like magic. From installing tube-wells to repairing shallow engines, he does everything perfectly."

In the dim light of his workshop, surrounded by tools and the faint scent of oil, Zahurul continues his lifelong symphony, one where each turn of a wrench and each tightening of a screw echoes the triumph of spirit over limitation.