In complete idiocy, that nation, while it prepares to scan the citizens’ history and moral character, in order to judge their citizens eligibility criterion, they forgot that the digital space has records of all they once were, all they currently are and all that they will become in the near future
Bangladesh’s second marriage law hasn’t changed. What has changed is the way people have been talking about it. Social media has turned a technical legal issue into a viral topic without context.
The most enduring line of her address may be her insistence that empowerment must reach homes, institutions, and mindsets simultaneously. This is not a comfortable demand. It implicates everyone.
Mother Mary Comes to Me reminds us that real activism is not performed but lived. And only this kind of activism -- rooted in courage, contradiction, and conviction can move us forward
The most dangerous question remains unasked: What norms, procedures, and moral commitments should replace what we are dismantling?
Second chances are possible. But history does not reward clever positioning or carefully worded distance. It honors courage, sacrifice, and fidelity to truth -- especially inconvenient truth.
It is often the person of colour who has to bring up colonialism in the room. To name racism even when it makes everyone uncomfortable. To remind people that representation is not neutral, and that curiosity does not absolve power.
Her entry into politics in the early 1980s was a response to national crisis, not personal ambition. She became more than a political leader. She became a symbol -- of democratic resilience, of refusal to capitulate, and of the belief that political legitimacy must come from the people, not from force.
The message for Bangladesh's policy-makers is clear: ground this decision in data, not delusions of grandeur. Commission and publish an independent, peer-reviewed fleet plan.
As a Bangladeshi Millennial, looking towards 2026 gives me the feeling I used to get before riding a roller coaster in my childhood. I fear it’s going to be a horrifying ride, but I can’t skip it now because I’m at the front of the queue and the next turn is mine.
The moment you raise your voice, people come rushing -- not to listen, but to remind you of your past silences. It doesn’t matter if the incident they cite happened months ago, years ago, or even decades ago.
As we move forward to build a new Bangladesh, we need to put minority protection and minority rights front and centre, not because of inflammatory accusations from across the border from those who frankly need to do better protecting the rights of their own minorities, but because it is the right thing to do.
What happened in those few violent hours at Savar was not an isolated event; it was a revelation -- a rupture that exposed the bones of a much larger story, one about the decay of our collective empathy and the silence of power meant to safeguard our people and our institutions.
Our Liberation War was basically about human rights and dignity. It was a call to refuse to be oppressed, to fight on behalf of the right of self-government, and to struggle in support of the values that unite us as a people: freedom, justice and equality. We must take pride in this history on Victory Day, as it represents not only a past victory but also a promise for the future.
On this day, Bangladesh did not yet know what it would become. It only knew what it had endured. The newspapers recorded surrender, denial, diplomacy, return, and rebirth. The people carried something else entirely -- a heavy, wordless knowledge of survival. That knowledge, more than any headline, is what remains.
We need laws that protect us from genuine harm without imprisoning our sense of humour, and platforms accountable to local contexts. Most of all, we must remember that the ability to laugh at power -- cleverly and without fear -- is not a Western import. It is a homegrown, centuries-old Bengali tradition.
