Catastrophic cyclone of 29 April 1991: An eyewitness account

For many, the night of 29 April comes and goes once a year. But for Mohammad Solaiman, who witnessed the devastation firsthand and lost his elder sister, that night in 1991 never ended.

It returns again and again in the silence of his sleepless nights, etched in haunting memories of one of the deadliest cyclones in history that tore through coastal Bangladesh in 1991.

Now the officer-in-charge of Panchlaish Police Station in Chattogram, Solaiman was just a fifth-grader then, growing up in Kalamarchhara, a coastal village in Moheshkhali upazila of Cox's Bazar – one of the worst-hit areas. 

"We were visiting my uncle's in-laws in a village called Sharaitala in Dhanghata, an island within Maheshkhali," Solaiman recalls. "Their house was made of tin and mud. Late at night, suddenly, waist-deep water surged into the yard. We had no idea what to do. In panic, around 10 to 12 of us climbed onto the tin roof of a nearby house with mud walls."

As the cyclone's fury grew stronger, the mud walls absorbed water and began to collapse. In a desperate move, the group cut through the tin roof to stay above the rising flood. The entire structure was soon floating on water. 

"For a while, it drifted gently," Solaiman says. "During that time, my sister held me tight and kept reciting verses from Surah Yaseen. She begged Allah, saying, 'If one of us must die, take me, but please save my little brother.' Her words still pierce my heart."

With each passing moment, the floating roof became more unstable. As people shifted their weight, the structure tilted dangerously. A powerful wave eventually pushed them toward a nearby garden, where the roof got lodged. 

"I don't know how we ended up there," Solaiman says. "Everything was chaos."

He remembers witnessing older siblings helping younger ones climb trees to escape the water. "I had no brother, only my sister Firoza Apu, who had just passed her SSC and was studying at Maheshkhali College," he says. "She asked if I could climb a tree. I said yes. But as I tried, I slipped."

Standing on the unsteady tin roof, Firoza placed both her hands beneath his feet and lifted him up. Solaiman managed to get onto a tree and save his life that night. But in the confusion and fear, he didn't reach back to help her. "To this day, I don't know why I didn't pull her up. That thought has haunted me ever since."

Among the most vivid images that still live with him are those of mothers clutching their children before vanishing into the flood, of children's cries abruptly silenced, and of whispered prayers in the dark – some begging God to take them instead of a loved one.

"That night didn't just bring a storm," he said. "It divided our lives into before and after."

April 29, 2025, marks the 34th anniversary of the 1991 super cyclone – known as Cyclone Gorky – which struck the southeastern coast of Bangladesh with winds exceeding 240km/h and a storm surge over 20 feet high. 

Making landfall near Chattogram, the cyclone claimed more than 1,38,000 lives and displaced over 10 million people, devastating areas like Banshkhali, Anowara, Chakaria, Pekua, and Moheshkhali.

The disaster left behind massive economic damage, wiping out homes, livelihoods, and infrastructure. Decades later, the coastal belt still carries the scars – both physical and emotional – of that terrifying night. 

For survivors like Solaiman, every cyclone warning in the April-May season stirs memories of an unforgettable storm and the loved ones it took away.