No Shakib Al Hasan in the ICC Champions Trophy. Just saying it feels wrong. How can a tournament that felt like his stage go on without him? The man who carried our hopes, who made us proud to be Bangladeshi, is missing. And it hurts.

The Champions Trophy, starting on 19 February in Karachi, was supposed to be the 37-year-old's ODI swansong. Shakib himself had expressed in an interview before the 2023 World Cup that this tournament would mark the end of his illustrious ODI career. But unforeseen events have now removed him from the event where he had almost single-handedly ensured Bangladesh's qualification.

Last year, during the Test match against India in Kanpur, Shakib had also hinted this tournament would be his goodbye. He dreamed of leaving cricket on his own terms, with pride and joy. But now, as the team is announced, his name isn't there. For a legendary player like him, this feels unfair.

Had Shakib not timed out Angelo Mathews in the World Cup encounter against Sri Lanka in Delhi, combined with his heroic all-round display featuring 2-57 with the ball and a 65-ball 82 with the bat, Bangladesh might not have even made it to Karachi. That victory propelled the Tigers to eighth place, edging Sri Lanka and the Netherlands on a superior run rate. It was his brilliance under pressure that ensured the team's qualification for this prestigious event.

He had already said goodbye to T20 cricket, leaving a hole no one could fill. He wanted one last Test at home, against South Africa, in front of the fans who loved him and adored him. But even that dream was taken away -- paradigm shift in the country's politics last year and the subsequent public anger prevented his deserving farewell.

Now, with him missing from the Champions Trophy, it feels like the final chapter of Bangladesh's greatest cricketer is closing. And it leaves an empty space in our hearts.

Shakib, you were "Bangladesher Jaan, Bangladesher Praan" -- the heart and soul of our cricket. You weren't just a player; you were our hope, our pride, our reason to believe Bangladesh could stand with the best. Your batting, your bowling, and your fighting spirit made you a legend.

You gave us moments we will never forget. That amazing innings, that match-winning spell, that fearless captaincy -- you made us dream. But now, thinking of you brings both joy and pain. It's not just that you're not playing anymore; it's the choices you've made off the field that leave us confused.

You were our hero, Shakib. But heroes are remembered not just for their wins but for the kind of footprint they leave. And somewhere along the way, the path you chose has made us question the man we once loved.

How did the cricketer who brought us together become someone who divides us? How did Shakib Al Hasan -- the man who made us believe in miracles -- end up pushing away so many who once cheered for him?

I still remember that day in Chittagong, October 18, 2008. A young Shakib Al Hasan, full of energy and hope, took seven wickets for just 36 runs -- the best bowling figures for Bangladesh in Tests at the time. That day, we saw a star being born. A young man, free from fame, playing with all his heart, whom I watched on a TV screen.

From those early days to 2015, when you became the first -- and only -- player to be number one in all three formats, your journey was incredible. You were our pride, our joy, our proof that Bangladesh could compete with the best.

And then came 2019. That World Cup was your masterpiece. With 606 runs and 11 wickets, you carried Bangladesh on your back, giving us one of the greatest all-round performances ever. You were unstoppable, fearless, and amazing.

But Shakib, trouble always seemed to follow you. From bans for illegal bowling actions to accusations of corruption, you faced challenges that would have broken others. Yet, you always came back stronger, proving your critics wrong with your talent and determination.

But your entry into politics has left a different kind of pain -- one that cricket can't fix. Your commercial focus and political affiliations have left your fans divided. The man who once brought us together now feels far away, his choices creating a gap we can't seem to cross.

When you retired from T20s, it felt like the end of an era. But what hurt even more was not seeing you play your final Test at home. Plans were made for you to face South Africa, but political protests and safety issues stopped it. You deserved a hero's goodbye, Shakib. And we, your fans, deserved the chance to give it to you.

Instead, we are left with memories -- beautiful, painful memories -- and a feeling of what could have been.

Shakib, you are still a legend. Your achievements have changed Bangladesh cricket forever. But a legacy is more than just numbers and trophies; it's about the mark you leave on people's hearts. And the pain caused by your political choices cannot be ignored.

For many of us, you will always be Bangladesher Jaan. But it's hard to match the hero we once loved with the man you've become. I still admire you, Shakib, for all you've done for cricket. But I also grieve for the Shakib who made us believe in the impossible.

Maybe, one day, you'll find your way back to the values you once stood for. Until then, you'll remain the greatest cricketer Bangladesh has ever seen -- but, for many, the hero we once knew is gone.

And that, Shakib, is a pain no cricket stat can ever fix.

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Is this it for Shakib?

(The author is a journalist at The Daily Star, and also a die-hard fan of Shakib Al Hasan, the cricketer.)