Journalist Bibhu Ranjan Sarker is no more. His death is a mystery, which the government does not want to solve. We are almost forgetting the letter he left for us, where he narrated the hardship of an honest journalist in Bangladesh. This article is a tribute to our Bivu'da.

  April is the cruelest month, breeding  Lilacs out of the dead land, … stirring  Dull roots with spring rain.  (The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot).  Is April the cruelest month in Bangladesh, too? Or August? Can the vast and torrential downpouring erase the blood-drenched assassination of our Father of the Nation, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, with almost all the members of his family? Or the surrealistic piles of dark, monsoon clouds can hide that blood stain? After a 21- years’ 21-year-long arduous struggle, Bangladesh could become ‘Bangladesh’ again in 1996-2001. This delta had achieved miracles of economic, infra-structural, and cultural heights during 2008-2024.   This monsoon too was no good at all. Let me be succinct now. Mystery shrouds the death of veteran journalist and columnist Bibhu Ranjan Sarker. Bangladesh is passing through one of its darkest epochs of tyranny and vandalism at present, bringing news pieces of new murders, arrests, and mob attacks every morning. It compels us to

forget the saddest event of even yesterday. This is why it’s no wonder that Bibhu da’s strange but sad demise gets evaporated from our discussion within a time-frame of just around one month. Our sharply opinionated state, however, could not help but get divided upon this issue too: was Bibhu da’s death a mere suicide or a killing? Or even if a suicide, was it a ‘structured silencing’ or not?     Life and Career of the departed journo:   Late Bibhu Ranjan started his career as a schoolboy reporter for Dainik Azad and then moved to work at daily Sangbad, Rupali, and some other weeklies, according to his last writing that he e-mailed to bdnews 24.com on 21st August morning (9:15 AM on Thursday).  In this last write-up, he recollected his five-decade-long career in the press. He, however, gained popularity for his political columns in the weekly ‘Jai Jai Din’ during the mid-eighties. But he had to adopt a pen name, ‘Tarikh…

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…

Conspiracy theories alleging The Unfinished Memoirs was ghostwritten by 123 officials are baseless, confusing it with a separate archival project. Bongobondhu's 1967-69 jail notebooks, verified by facsimiles and corroborated by media, confirm his authorship. These claims lack evidence and aim to undermine a vital historical text chronicling Bengal's fight against oppression. Mujib's legacy remains authentic and unassailable.

Claims that Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s The Unfinished Memoirs was ghostwritten by 123 officials are baseless. The text is rooted in Mujib’s 1967–69 jail notebooks, preserved in facsimile, corroborated by contemporaneous media, and consistent with his nationalist politics. The conspiracy confuses Mujib’s autobiography with an entirely different archival project. Such disinformation is not an innocent mistake—it is a calculated attempt to weaken Bengal’s memory of its liberation struggle. Did Sheikh Mujibur Rahman really need 123 ghostwriters to tell the story of his childhood, his activism, and his dream of a free Bengal? The very idea borders on the absurd. Yet in the turbulent wake of Bangladesh’s recent political upheavals, a wave of conspiracy theories has emerged claiming that The Unfinished Memoirs—a cornerstone of Bengali nationalist history—was fabricated by former IGP Mohammad Javed Patwary and a team of officials. These claims, amplified by sensationalist media and echo chambers online, are not harmless speculation. They are disinformation designed to erode the foundations of

Bongobondhu’s legacy. As someone committed to historical truth, I argue that these accusations crumble under scrutiny. They rest on a deliberate conflation of two entirely separate bodies of work, lack any substantive evidence, and collapse in the face of overwhelming documentary, textual, and historical proof that the memoirs are indeed Mujib’s own words. The Source of the Rumors The allegations originated from documents allegedly uncovered by Bangladesh’s Special Branch of police in August 2025, suggesting Patwary and his team were rewarded with cash and apartments for ghostwriting Mujib’s autobiography. A legal notice has even demanded an official probe into whether Mujib wrote the text at all. But this narrative unravels upon closer inspection. The supposed “evidence” confuses The Unfinished Memoirs with a very different project: the 14-volume Secret Documents of the Intelligence Branch on Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. That series—published under Sheikh Hasina’s oversight—compiles 48,000 pages of declassified Pakistani intelligence files. Patwary and his officers played a technical role: scanning, transcribing,…

We must admit that what happened in July – August 2024 is not a “revolution”. The present government is not a legitimate government and they do have any authority to issue a charter, whatsoever.

Kant, Weber and Other Philosophers

The so-called July 2024 “Colour Revolution” in Bangladesh, which led to the collapse of Sheikh Hasina’s long-standing government and the formation of an interim government, has been widely celebrated as a democratic breakthrough. Yet, from the perspectives of Immanuel Kant, Max Weber, and several contemporary theorists, this revolution raises serious questions about its philosophical and sociological legitimacy. This came to my attention while talking with another author Jahanara Nuri, who has already published an article on this platform after Yunus announced a “July Charter” at the anniversary of the so-called “revolution”.  We must admit that what happened in July – August 2024 is not a “revolution”. However, the National Citizens Party (NCP), Bangladesh Jamat-e-Islami (BJI) and its students’ wing Islami Chatra Shibir (ICS), and other Islamist right wing political parties are claiming it as “revolution”, while Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and left-wing political parties are claiming it as “mass uprising” or “resurgence”. The Bangladesh Awami League and its allies are claiming

it as a “coup”, since it is a part of a “meticulous design” as Yunus and his team claimed it. After having this conversation with Jahanara Nuri, I understood that there is a necessity to explain why philosophically this is not a “revolution”. Hence, in this article I have discussed Kant and Weber’s philosophies to explain why this is not a revolution and why the government lacks the legitimacy to declare this July Charter.    Kant: Revolution Is Morally Impermissible  Immanuel Kant’s political philosophy is grounded in legalism and moral duty. In his Doctrine of Right, part of the Metaphysics of Morals, Kant categorically states:   “There is… no right to sedition, still less to rebellion, and least of all is there a right against the head of a state… to attack his person or even his life on the pretext that he has abused his authority.”  Kant’s rejection of revolution stems from his belief that law is the condition…

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…

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