In the early nineties, Shahbagh dawned pale and mysterious. It rose like an ancient city from rice-washed waters. Streets glistened as if inked with dust from Nawabi bakharkhani and ashes. Stalls at crossings exhaled jasmine, tuberose, marigold. Restaurants thickened the air with parata, paya, dim vaja, and dal vuna. Rickshaws and cars rattled past like iron insects. From the crossing, standing before PG Hospital toward TSC, you saw the Northern Road slip toward Bangla Academy and the Science Building. It carried students, teachers, people — and the hushed footsteps of history itself. By nine o’clock, rickshaws jostled for space. The campus pulsed with the life of a nation anchored at Shahbagh. Dhaka University and Shahbagh bore history’s cruelty. They witnessed resistance, oppression, survival, and pride. Shahbagh was never just a marketplace for flowers, food, books, and medicine. It was also an altar of ideas and creative dreams. Writers and thinkers debated over tea, killing kings and generals with words. The tar on the streets around TSC drank blood every decade — not of clerics’, but

of young dreamers’. Socialist Student Union members, Student League, Secular bloggers, DU professors bled on its pavements, etching a red chapter in the history the city could not wash away. Assassins silenced voices one by one. When they struck my teacher, Dr. Humayun Azad, they carved permanent hatred into his face. He survived but lived only half in this world, until death claimed him in a German twilight, six months later. DU Student Union's 2025 election became a theatre. Rigged stages allowed supporters of Avijit Roy’s killers to take their seats. Since July 2024, 761 armed zealots, along with Jamaat-Shibir and the Islamic Alliance, have been roaming freely in the country, plotting a Caliphate on soil that had chosen freedom a hundred years earlier. A sharp question remains: why did no cleric fall to these assassins? Silence answers. It shows whose hands guided the knives and who threw the bombs and grenades. Many forces contended for Bangladesh’s soul, but none gnawed like the venom of religious politics led by Moudusit, Salafist Jamat E Islam, Islamic…

Muhammad Yunus’s reformist rhetoric masks an exclusionary coalition that sidelines secular forces while seeking international legitimacy.

1. UNGA: Stagecraft and Legitimacy The United Nations General Assembly is where states strive not just to be heard but to be recognised as legitimate actors on the world stage. Against this backdrop, Bangladesh’s interim regime has chosen Muhammad Yunus as its emissary, projecting an image of “national unity” and “reform.” The symbolism is calculated: a Nobel laureate with global stature fronting a fragile, contested coalition. This choice is less about representation and more about stagecraft. For Western ears, Yunus’s polished rhetoric about democracy and renewal is reassuring; for the regime at home, it serves as a shield against scrutiny. Yet this diplomatic theatre conceals a harsher reality, one in which the UNGA is being weaponised not to advance Bangladesh’s democratic aspirations, but to launder the legitimacy of a project that is deeply exclusionary and regressive. 2. The Regime’s Composition: A Coalition Built on Exclusion Behind the international façade lies a coalition defined less by inclusivity than by exclusion. Its

core is a marriage of convenience between the centre-right Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), the far-right Islamist Jamaat-e-Islami (rehabilitated into politics in 1979 when BNP opened the doors to Islamist participation), and the pseudo-centrist National Citizen Party (NCP). The NCP, born from the 2024 uprising’s Islamist-infiltrated student movement, cloaks its rejection of 1971’s secular Bengali nationalism in a “Muslim-Bengali” identity, softening theocratic leanings for broader appeal. Liberal, secular-nationalist, and progressive forces – AL, CPB, JSD, BSD – which collectively commanded roughly 40-45% of votes in past elections (2001 estimates) and hold deep roots in the liberation struggle – have been conspicuously sidelined. The gravitational pull within this alliance is unmistakably toward an Islamist-nationalist axis. Jamaat has reemerged not only as a political actor but as a dominant force, its cadres intimidating opponents and seizing local power in the post-August 5 chaos while extending its reach into institutions like the judiciary and the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT-BD). The ICT-BD, once tasked with…

1. Early rainy season’s subtle steps was felt in the hot, humid afternoon in Dhaka on August 21, 2004. Bangladesh. The sun hung low on the horizon, shadows of people and everything around them stretched long across Dhaka’s bustling Bangabandhu Avenue. The city's pulse beat fervently as thousands convened for the peace rally of Awami League— a party accustomed to the shadow of political strife since 1949-announced its stand against violence. Their rally was initially planned for Muktangon, the venue shifted to the broad crossroads near the Party headquarters after the permission for Muktangon was not available. The megacity's atmosphere mirrored the rally's intent—solemn yet resolute. At the heart of the gathering, Sheikh Hasina, the leader of the Awami League, stood on a truck. Encircled by leaders spanning generations of the party, she addressed the crowd with a voice of steely determination, condemning terrorism and championing justice and democracy. Waves of supporters, brandishing banners and flags, cheered her on, their

hope defying the precarious political climate. At precisely 5:22 PM, the air buzzed with anticipation as Sheikh Hasina concluded her speech with the defiant cry, “Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu.” "I had barely completed my speech and was going to get down from the truck when I heard a big bang and the next moment blood splashed on my body." The ear-splitting explosion of a grenade detonated just yards from Hasina's podium sent a cascade of shrapnel into the crowd and shattered the assembly's energy. Chaos erupted. Screams of terror mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder as panic swept through the sea of people, scattering them like leaves in a gale. 2. In a swift and seamless motion, leaders around Sheikh Hasina formed a protective human shield with a singular, instinctive resolve, their outstretched arms defying the onslaught and helping her get into the car with security personnel. Time seemed to suspend; the explosion's echo lingered in the air as…

The OHCHR MoU and the US NDA aren’t isolated events—they’re interlocking tools in a new strategy to turn Bangladesh into a geopolitical corridor. Under the guise of rights and trade, they erode sovereignty, silence resistance, and open the floodgates to foreign control. This isn’t partnership. It’s prelude to possession—with a handshake, not a hammer.

Introduction: Sovereignty by Stealth In July 2025, two international agreements quietly positioned themselves at the heart of Bangladesh’s geopolitical destiny. One was a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) signed between Bangladesh and the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), granting the UN body a permanent presence in Dhaka. The other was a leaked draft of a proposed Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) between Bangladesh and the United States, setting the terms for deepened bilateral cooperation—on Washington’s terms. Individually, these instruments might seem routine. Together, they chart the contours of a new and dangerous architecture: Bangladesh as a "corridor nation"—a strategic conduit for Western security and economic interests, locked in from within by humanitarian oversight and from without by asymmetrical trade and security arrangements. This is a story not of occupation by force, but by framework. I. The OHCHR MoU: Human Rights or Hegemony? At first glance, the OHCHR’s new Dhaka office appears to be a benign institutional step—an

extension of international support for Bangladesh’s human rights obligations. Yet this MoU arrives in the aftermath of a political transition shaped by foreign pressure and domestic unrest. Its timing is more than symbolic; it is strategic. The OHCHR’s February 2025 report on protest-related violence conspicuously sidestepped key facts, including attacks on law enforcement and public property. Notably absent were the deaths of police officers and the documented instigation of violence by opposition-aligned groups. By legitimizing a one-sided narrative, the OHCHR's presence becomes more than observational—it becomes constitutive. It reframes political violence as civilian resistance and erases the culpability of coordinated agitators. What’s more troubling is the legal immunity granted under the MoU. UN officials enjoy broad protections under international conventions, often beyond the reach of local judicial oversight. In effect, the OHCHR becomes an untouchable actor within Bangladesh's borders, with privileged access to state institutions, data, and civil society—and no local accountability. While the MoU’s full text has not been…

Al Jazeera’s “36 Days in July” is not journalism—it is a selectively sourced, politically motivated character assassination. By platforming figures tied to extremist groups and omitting critical legal and historical context, it weaponizes leaked audio to vilify Sheikh Hasina and legitimize a coup born of coordinated violence.

1: The Spectacle Disguised as Journalism Al Jazeera’s “HASINA – 36 Days in July” is marketed as an investigative documentary. In truth, it functions as a media indictment. From framing to narration, from sourcing to visual mood-setting, the entire feature seems less interested in investigating the truth than in delivering a preordained verdict: Sheikh Hasina is guilty. Al Jazeera and the BBC, in their respective pieces, center their accusations on a short leaked audio clip — barely 80 seconds long — which they treat as a smoking gun. For the sake of brevity, this article will only focus on Al Jazeera Documentary. This audio captures a voice that has allegedly been attributed to the former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, issuing directives in the midst of a violent uprising. The audio, at the time of publishing, is neither forensically authenticated nor interpreted with journalistic caution. Worse, its use is framed within a montage of insinuations, selective voices, and emotionally charged imagery,

producing what can only be described as trial-by-media. Yet the words themselves offer no blanket order for violence, let alone student killings. The central "evidence" of this so-called investigation — the short leaked audio clip — that this documentary and the BBC feature appeared within days of each other, using the same core audio material and overlapping narrative structure, raises serious questions about coordination — if not lobbying. It is not implausible to suspect that this is not independent journalism but a synchronized narrative push, especially considering the actors it platformed and the timing with an ongoing legal trial. 2: The So-Called Smoking Gun – A Short Audio, A Long Stretch In the audio materials, the individual in question can be heard stating: “I have told them — if necessary, shoot… Students’ lives must be saved… But if anyone creates terror, if there’s no other way — you must act.” The voice in the audio reveals a response to a…

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