Yesterday, my city, the place of my birth and childhood, was bathed in blood and tears. Deep wounds were inflicted, during an overnight orgy of brutality and violence, in a stunning degradation of all things sacred we have ever held dear. For 13 hours the nation watched, helpless, petrified, and terrorized. The victims: They were one of us Reports that emerged first read '20 foreigners killed in terrorist attacks in Dhaka'. Even as the standoff was diffused, the narrative remained the same - ISIS militants have specifically targeted foreigners in Gulshan area, the diplomatic zone of my city. Its reiterations had reverberated worldwide by last night, when I get a call from a friend abroad. He says 'I am sorry to hear it man. A tragedy. Although it is not a direct tragedy for Bangladesh, really.' Really? Did it really make a difference? I told him how confused we were all feeling about what had just happened. Does it have to matter that apparently no Bangladeshi...