As the Pakistani forces crumbled before the combined strength of the Mukti Bahini and the Indian Armed Forces, the sacrifice of the intellectuals became the moral turning point of the war.

Although 14 December has passed, the echoes of Martyred Intellectuals Day still resonate across Bangladesh — a solemn remembrance of one of the most barbaric crimes committed during the 1971 Liberation War.

It marks the deliberate elimination of Bangladesh’s brightest sons and daughters — teachers, physicians, engineers, writers, journalists, scientists, artists — slaughtered by the Pakistani occupation forces and their treacherous local collaborators, especially the murderous Al-Badr and Al-Shams squads of Jamaat-e-Islami.

As Pakistan’s defeat loomed inevitable in December 1971, the enemy adopted its most diabolical strategy: destroy Bangladesh by killing its intellect. They believed that a nation without thinkers would be a nation without strength — unable to rise, resist, or rebuild.

Between 10–14 December, hundreds of intellectuals were abducted, tortured, and executed. Their bodies were dumped in the mass graves of Rayerbazar and Mirpur in Dhaka. Two days later, Bangladesh emerged victorious — but its birth was stained with immeasurable grief.

Cicero’s immortal words echo through our remembrance: “The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”And so, we remember — as a sacred duty, a moral obligation, and the living heartbeat of our national identity.

Honouring the Dream They Died For

The highest tribute to our martyred intellectuals lies not in wreaths alone, but in fulfilling the ideals they championed — a progressive, just, dignified, and exploitation-free Bangladesh.

They were the custodians of Bengali nationalism, carrying the torch of truth and awakening the conscience of a nation under siege. Their ideals must never be confined to a day of mourning. As Kazi Nazrul Islam declared: “Let the clarion call of truth resound in every heart.”

Thus, December 14 must remain etched in our collective consciousness forever.

The Final Week of Liberation: Courage, Blood, and Inevitable Victory

The closing week of the Liberation War witnessed extraordinary bravery. As the Pakistani forces crumbled before the combined strength of the Mukti Bahini and the Indian Armed Forces, the sacrifice of the intellectuals became the moral turning point of the war.

Their blood enriched the soil of Bangladesh.
Their martyrdom fortified the foundations of our democracy.
Their sacrifice ensured that the surrender of Pakistan on December 16 became irreversible.

As Mahatma Gandhi declared: “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”Our intellectual martyrs embodied this truth in its purest form.

A Grief That Time Cannot Heal

The news of their slaughter struck the nation with a pain too deep for words. Even after five decades, the sorrow lingers — as raw and profound as it was in 1971.

These intellectuals were not mere academics; they were the conscience-keepers of the nation — voices of justice, mentors of society, architects of a humane future. Their simplicity, integrity, compassion, and fearless devotion to truth defined the very soul of Bangladesh.

Their Eternal Light

Freedom fighter Syed Shahidul Haque Mama once observed: “Our country has been blessed with some quite outstanding persons.”

Indeed, the intellectuals of 1971 were unmatched — brilliant thinkers, disciplined organisers, courageous patriots. Their assassinations were not simply murders; they were a calculated attempt to annihilate the moral backbone of a rising nation.

But the enemy failed — for their ideals live on. Their light continues to guide Bangladesh like an eternal North Star.

The Unfinished Struggle Against Anti-Liberation Forces

As Professor Dr. Muntasir Mamun rightly lamented: “Bangabandhu united the nation. Gen Zia divided it.”

Bangladesh, unlike any other nation, continues to witness political forces that glorify war criminals, deny genocide, and undermine the Liberation War. No sovereign country tolerates the ideology of its defeated enemies — yet this remains Bangladesh’s painful contradiction.

His warning remains clear and uncompromising: “There must be politics in Bangladesh. But there must not be anti-Liberation politics.”

To honour the martyred intellectuals, we must reject — with iron resolve — all forces that conspire against the values of 1971.

Justice and the Mandate of History

On this sacred anniversary, Bangladesh must renew its pledge to uphold justice.
The 195 Pakistani war criminals must face trial under international law posthumously.
The killers of Al-Badr and Al-Shams must be held fully accountable.
Their financial networks must be dismantled, and their assets seized to support the families of the martyrs.

There is no chance to forgive and forget their Brobdingnagian war crimes in 1971.

As John F. Kennedy wrote: “A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces, but also by the men it honours.” By honouring our intellectual martyrs, we honour the undying spirit of Bangladesh.

In Reverence and Eternal Gratitude

Our martyred intellectuals placed country before self, ideals before life. They embraced death not in despair but in unwavering devotion to the liberation of their people.

They remain the shining constellations of Bangladesh — luminous beacons of conscience, thought, sacrifice, and hope.

Let us recall the haunting words of an unknown poet:

“For every fallen hero, a story remains —
A story we must carry,
A promise we must keep,
A freedom we must honour.”

Albert Schweitzer reminded us: “The greatest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.”

Let our gratitude be active — a vow to safeguard the Bangladesh for which they laid down their lives.

Terminus Point

As we bow our heads on Martyred Intellectuals Day, we affirm a truth sacred and everlasting:

Bangladesh lives because they died.
Bangladesh rises because they dreamed.
Bangladesh endures because they believed.

May we remain forever worthy of their sacrifice.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Pakistan’s terror networks—Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and their Al-Qaeda-linked proxies—have dramatically increased their presence in the region.

Under the present administration, Al-Qaeda appears to be resurfacing from the concealed depths of Bangladesh’s security landscape.

The political landscape of Bangladesh—already shaken by the 5 August 2024 coup and the forced exile of the nation’s most successful leader, Sheikh Hasina—has now been rocked by a far more explosive revelation.

An investigative exposé reported by The Wall Street Journal has unearthed deeply disturbing allegations: individuals identified internationally as financiers of the deadly Al-Qaeda network may have had connections with firms associated with Muhammad Yunus and his sprawling Grameen empire.

This is not a trivial accusation. Nor is it an isolated claim from a fringe outlet. A leading Bangladesh magazine has sounded the alarm with striking clarity, arguing that these links—if proven—may help explain the sudden surge of Pakistan-backed extremist activity inside Bangladesh since the coup.

At the heart of this crisis lies a single, burning question: Has Yunus’s opaque financial empire indirectly opened doors to radical networks, and if so, who enabled it, who benefited, and who now shields him from scrutiny?

A Pattern of Darkness Behind a Global Smile

For decades, Muhammad Yunus has been portrayed internationally as a saintly figure—soft-spoken, smiling, and draped in the aura of microcredit idealism because deceptive playability. But behind the poetic façade lies a network of more than 100 interlinked companies, trusts, foundations, and financial conduits that have long been criticized for their lack of transparency, dubious accounting practices, and evasive oversight structures.

These concerns were once dismissed by foreign observers as mere “political differences” between Yunus and Sheikh Hasina. But the recent revelations change everything. They raise the possibility—not yet proven, but deeply alarming—that shadowy financiers connected to global jihadist networks may have moved money through or around the Grameen ecosystem.

With billions of dollars in donor funds, foreign grants, complex inter-company loans, and off-the-books financial arrangements, the Grameen structure has always been a maze. In an era where extremist networks are known to exploit NGOs, microfinance channels, and rural financial systems to move money discreetly, such opacity is not merely a governance failure—it is a national security threat.

The Coup That Removed Oversight

These allegations emerge at a moment when Bangladesh’s institutions lie in ruins. Since the CIA and ISI-engineered regime change of August 2024, the country has had no functioning parliament, no independent judiciary, no independent anti-corruption body, and no credible financial regulator.

The unelected ruler—Muhammad Yunus himself—captured the state and dismantled every mechanism capable of investigating him.

It is precisely this vacuum of accountability that enables extremist groups to thrive. Pakistan’s terror networks—Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammed, and their Al-Qaeda-linked proxies—have dramatically increased their presence in the region.

Is it coincidence that this rise began immediately after Yunus took control? Or is the environment of lawlessness, political chaos, and financial secrecy under Yunus providing fertile ground for jihadist infiltration?

These questions demand answers—not whispered discussions, not selective disclosures, but a full, internationally supervised audit of all Grameen entities and their financial partners.

Sheikh Hasina’s Warning Echoes Louder Than Ever

From exile in Delhi, the rightful Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina issued a searing statement that now seems prophetic:

“He is a cheat who has destroyed his country for his ambitions. Now he and his coterie are looting the country and running it to the ground.”

At the time, critics dismissed her words as political rhetoric. Yet today, as allegations of extremist-linked financiers swirl around Yunus’s corporate web, her warning bears the weight of grim truth.

Hasina always understood the danger of allowing unregulated, foreign-funded financial empires to operate outside state scrutiny. Yunus, meanwhile, weaponized foreign applause to evade domestic accountability—until the coup handed him unchecked power.

Why the Allegations Matter for Bangladesh’s Survival

If even a fraction of the allegations proves credible, the implications are severe:

• Bangladesh’s security architecture may have been compromised.
• Extremist financing routes may have passed through respected institutions shielded by Yunus’s global reputation.
• Pakistan’s ISI-backed networks may already be embedded within Bangladesh’s financial and political landscape.
• The coup regime may be enabling—intentionally the resurgence of jihadist forces for their safety.

A nation built on the ideals of secularism, pluralism, and the sacrifices of 1971 cannot afford such vulnerabilities. Bangladesh is not just fighting for democracy—it is fighting for its survival as a tolerant, modern state.

An International Investigation Is Needed

The time for polite hesitation is over. The time for diplomatic courtesy is over.

What Bangladesh needs—what Bangladesh demands—is an independent international investigation into:

• All Grameen-linked companies, trusts, and financial entities
• All foreign donors and partners
• Any individuals identified as Al-Qaeda or extremist financiers
• All transactions since the coup of August 2024
• Any state or non-state actors facilitating extremist expansion inside Bangladesh

Nothing less will suffice.

Bangladesh cannot rely on an unelected ruler to investigate himself. Nor can a captured state apparatus provide transparency. Only global scrutiny—led by financial intelligence units, counterterrorism experts, and international auditors—can uncover the truth.

The Darkness Must Be Confronted

Bangladesh today stands at a crossroads. The shadows around Yunus’s Grameen empire are deepening, and the allegations now touch upon the most dangerous elements of global extremism. What was once seen as a matter of “microfinance disputes” now appears to be a potential national and international security emergency.

If Yunus has nothing to hide, he should welcome an independent audit. But if he resists, the world will know what that resistance signifies.

For the sake of Bangladesh’s integrity, for the legacy of 1971, and for the protection of its people, the truth must come out—fully, fearlessly, and without compromise.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Hyenas of the defeated forces of 1971 now roam unchallenged.

A medieval darkness has descended upon the sacred land of independent Bangladesh. Law and order lie in shambles. Robbery and organised plunder now stain towns and villages alike. The nation stands captured by anti-Bangladesh forces—those who once trembled before the ideals of 1971 but now strut shamelessly across the land in this grim interregnum.

The illegal and unconstitutional “Interim Government” led by Prof. Dr. Muhammad Yunus has exposed its moral bankruptcy by failing to safeguard the sanctity of our national icons—Bangabandhu Memorial Museum, his murals, his statues, and the homes and temples of our religious minorities, especially the Hindu community.

Hyenas of the defeated forces of 1971 now roam unchallenged. Bangladesh has been thrust into the hands of the very criminals and collaborators whom history had once consigned to disgrace.

Let us be absolutely clear: Sheikh Hasina’s fall did not occur because of a student-led anti-quota movement. That movement was merely the surface ripple concealing a deep and treacherous undercurrent. From the very beginning, the unrest was a meticulously crafted pretext—a multilayered, billion-dollar blueprint engineered by a powerful Western intelligence agency acting in close concert with its local henchmen.

Among these were Dr. Yunus, long a favoured protégé of foreign powers; the Jamaat-BNP nexus; the Pakistani ISI; extremist right-wing Islamist networks; an ambitious army chief and his loyal cabal; and even the strategic manipulations of the Chinese dragon. Together, this unholy coalition executed a hawk-eyed operation to unseat Sheikh Hasina through an unlawful coup on 5 August 2024.

The objective of this foreign power was as brazen as it was sinister: to compel Bangladesh to surrender Saint Martin’s Island. Situated in the northeastern Bay of Bengal, the island offers unparalleled strategic advantage over Southeast Asia and the broader Indo-Pacific. Sheikh Hasina, steadfast and patriotic, refused to reduce Bangladesh to a tributary state by allowing the establishment of a foreign military base.

For this refusal, she was removed.

What followed her ousting exposed the true barbarism of the conspirators. Looting, arson, temple desecration, forced occupation of minority homes, and unchecked violence swept across the nation with an intensity unseen in decades.

The perpetrators were not faceless; they were the same elements who opposed the Liberation War in 1971—Jamaat-e-Islami mass-murderers, their Shibir offspring, extremist mullahs, and various mercenary groups driven by religious bigotry and political vengeance.

On television, I witnessed scenes that seared my soul: a Hindu girl being dragged away by bearded zealots in a van while her father ran behind, crying in desperation; mobs of students—many naïve, many manipulated—raiding Sheikh Hasina’s home and proudly displaying stolen sarees before TV cameras; thugs parading items looted from the Prime Minister’s residence as if these were trophies of national triumph.

These were not acts of rebellion; they were acts of savagery.

And then came the final abomination: the attack on Bangabandhu’s historic home at Dhanmondi 32—the lighthouse of our national identity. What kind of nation allows the house of its founding father to be desecrated? What kind of creatures tear apart the very symbols of their own freedom?

These hellish beings sought not only to erase Sheikh Hasina’s legacy but to wipe out every sign of the Awami League’s monumental development achievement—bridges, highways, mega-projects, and the billions of dollars invested for the people’s welfare.

The “Interim Government” formed on 8 August 2024—under the shadow of guns and the blessing of foreign manipulators—had no constitutional basis. It was a grotesque aberration led by an octogenarian whose own judicial record is marred by convictions for labour law violations. Yet he postured as a saviour while presiding over the country’s descent into ruin.

Russia had warned us. On 15 December 2020, and again in 2023, Moscow publicly stated that a certain Western power intended to topple Sheikh Hasina if she returned to power. They predicted an Arab-Spring-style operation—one centred on university students, amplified by media propaganda, and lubricated by covert funding.

The children of this country—who never saw 1971, who do not know the long, treacherous shadow of the U.S.-Pakistani conspiracy behind Bangabandhu’s assassination—walked blindly into a geopolitical minefield. One day, they will look back in regret, realising they were pawns in a far greater game. By then, the damage may be irreversible.

Why were the verdicts timed as they were? Why did certain newspapers and television channels give extraordinary coverage from the very first hour? Who coordinated the protests? Who supplied funds, food, and logistics? Who weaponised social media? Who reaped the benefits? These questions answer themselves.

Most critically: Sheikh Hasina has not resigned. She remains the lawfully elected and rightful Prime Minister of Bangladesh. Her removal was effected at gunpoint—by an unworthy army chief and his mango-twigs, acting under the directives of foreign masters and their local Islamist proxies.

Today, Bangladesh is being forced toward a Hamas-ISIS styled banana republic, a grotesque distortion of the secular, democratic state for which we fought in 1971.

As a frontline Freedom Fighter who witnessed the brutal birth of Bangladesh with my own eyes, I pledge—until my final breath—to proclaim: Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu, and Joytu Sheikh Hasina. Bangladesh awaits her return. And return she shall.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Bangladesh will not be deceived by borrowed prestige. Nor will it forgive betrayal of its sacred destiny.

In the hierarchy of global honours, few distinctions have commanded as much reverence as the Nobel Peace Prize. Established in 1901 according to the will of Alfred Nobel, the Prize was conceived as a tribute to those who strove for the fraternity of nations, the reduction or abolition of standing armies, and the promotion of peace over war.

For decades, it symbolised not merely recognition, but a clarion call to moral leadership—a testament to humanity’s capacity to transcend violence with conscience, humility and courage. Yet, in our present time, the Peace Prize is increasingly not of the nobility not losing it as a sacred accolade, but also as an ornament of geopolitical performance—a gilded endorsement bestowed often to appease global powers, sanctify political narratives or embellish diplomatic theatre.

The Case of Muhammad Yunus and the Loss of National Trust

No example illustrates this tragic dissonance more painfully for Bangladesh than the figure of Dr. Muhammad Yunus, the nation’s sole Nobel Peace laureate. Once celebrated for the model of microcredit under cloak-and-dagger of manipulation and the rhetoric of poverty alleviation, Yunus today stands as a deeply polarising figure—regarded by many Bangladesh’s people not as a pioneer of social uplift, but as an architect of manipulation, financial exploitation and political intrigue.

His legacy, instead of strengthening social peace, has been seen to align with the direful foreign factions and forces that undermined democratic stability and the sacred aspirations of the Liberation War of 1971.

At this pivotal moment in Bangladesh’s contemporary history, Yunus is not remembered as a symbol of principled peace, but as a man who allowed foreign power networks and private ambition to overshadow the national conscience. Thus, the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to him has come to represent a stark and discomforting paradox: global prestige divorced from moral accountability. The medallion glitters—but its glow conceals shadows.

Political theorist Peiman Salehi offers a piercing interpretation: today, the Peace Prize is awarded not to those who challenge systems of domination, but to those who help make empire comfortable. Peace, in this modern architecture, has become negotiable—compliant, symbolic, and cosmetic.

And when peace becomes merely the illusion of calm rather than the triumph of justice, the trophy itself becomes meaningless.

When the Prize Still Meant Something

There was a time when the Nobel Peace Prize resonated with authenticity. When the first laureates—Henri Dunant, the founder of the Red Cross, and Frédéric Passy, a tireless advocate of international arbitration—were honoured, their recognition arose not from political expediency but from humanitarian transformation. Their work echoed conscience, sacrifice and the fundamental belief that humanity must rise above barbarism.

Later laureates such as Elie Wiesel embodied this moral vocation. “I accept this great honour on behalf of the many who perished,” he said, reminding the world that memory must prevent the repetition of atrocity. In such moments, the Prize served as a beacon of ethical clarity, not a tool of global branding.

The Gradual Descent

However, scholars such as Fredrik Heffermehl have rigorously shown that the Peace Prize has, over the past century, strayed from Nobel’s original criteria. Nearly half the awards conferred since the Second World War, he argues, do not conform to Nobel’s explicit mandate of demilitarisation and anti-imperial peace. The Prize has often rewarded heads of state whose involvement in war and coercive diplomacy contradicts the very ideal they were honoured for.

Critics have lamented that the Prize has shifted from recognizing courageous dissent to incentivizing diplomatic decorum. Peace has become an ill performance, not a principle. The honour often celebrates ceasefire photography rather than the dismantling of violence itself. The air of sanctity surrounding the Prize has increasingly dissipated, replaced by cynicism and intellectual disquiet.

Indeed, one commentator suggested renaming it “The Global Order De-Stabilization Prize”—a sarcastic epithet symbolizing how the award is frequently used to fortify the status quo rather than to challenge injustices that perpetuate conflict.

The World’s Growing Demand for an Alternative

If the Nobel Peace Prize can no longer be relied upon as a faithful steward of global moral conscience, then we must ask: Is the world not urgently in need of a new way to honour peace? A new prize—one grounded not in diplomacy and political convenience, but in integrity, justice, and transformative compassion?

Such a new award must be built on three unshakeable pillars:

1. Integrity and Transparency
   The criteria for recognition must be unambiguous, accountable and rooted in verifiable contribution—not reputation, lobbying networks or geopolitical alignment.
2. Justice as the Foundation of Peace
   As Martin Luther King Jr. taught us, peace does not mean the absence of conflict—it means the presence of justice. One cannot reward peace where injustice is left intact.
3. Recognition of the Unheard and the Unseen
   Peace is most often built by those who do their work quietly—community organizers, women mediators, indigenous & minorities defenders, grassroots activists. The award must centre them—not the well-polished foxy people like Yunus who receive applause and cameras.

A Vision for the Future: The Global Peace Integrity Award

Let us imagine an annual Global Peace Integrity Award (GPIA). Its selection committee would be composed of conflict survivors, human rights advocates, social workers and scholars—individuals who understand peace not as theory, but as struggle. Recipients would be chosen only when their work has measurably reduced violence, restored dignity or strengthened justice. Fanfare would be unnecessary. Authenticity would be the source of prestige.

Such a prize would accomplish what the Nobel once promised: it would serve as a moral compass.

Lessons from the Nobel’s Decline

Even the Nobel Committee itself has acknowledged its limitations. Former Secretary Geir Lundestad admitted, “If the purpose of the Nobel Peace Prize had been to establish peace all over the world, it would clearly have failed.”

Recognition is not transformation. Applause is not peace.

Desmond Tutu once reflected that the Prize opened doors—but he also implied that it placed him inside the same halls of power where compromise and negotiation overshadow ideals. The paradox is clear: awards can either amplify moral truth—or neutralise it.

Bangladesh’s Final Word

And so, we return to Muhammad Yunus. His Nobel medallion cannot erase or overshadow the wounds inflicted upon the national conscience in Bangladesh. The honour he wears internationally stands in painful contradiction to peace.  

This nation—born from blood, sacrifice, tears and unbreakable resolve—does not measure greatness by Western trophies. It measures greatness by fidelity to the spirit of 1971.

Bangladesh will not be deceived by borrowed prestige. Nor will it forgive betrayal of its sacred destiny.

Yunus may keep his medal.
But he has lost the trust of the nation that once gave him moral legitimacy.

History will record this truth.

Let the Work of Real Peace Begin

The time has come to end the charade.
To reject performative peace.
To restore dignity, justice and moral courage to the idea of peace itself.

Let this be the moment the world stops applauding illusions—and begins honouring transformation.

The mockery must end. The real work must begin.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

The damage inflicted upon Bangladesh by Zia, Ershad, and Khaleda is immeasurable. They desecrated the very ideals for which millions died.

7 November 1975 — a date seared into my memory. I was then a senior student at Dhaka University, residing in Sergeant Zohurul Haque Hall (SZHH). On the evening of 6 November, my close friend and classmate, Zamal Fazle Rubby Badal — a prominent member of the Gono Bahini, the armed wing of the Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD) — came hurriedly to my room, which adjoined his. “Tonight, something big will happen in Dhaka under the leadership of JSD,” he whispered, his voice charged with excitement. I pressed him for details and promised secrecy, but he refused to reveal more.

At around 11 p.m., I retired to bed, unaware of the storm about to break. Shortly after midnight, I was jolted awake by loud slogans echoing from the ground floor of SZHH — cries proclaiming that a “revolution” had erupted in Dhaka Cantonment and across the nation. Curious and uneasy, I went downstairs to find a large procession, led by JSD’s student wing and Gono Bahini members, chanting at the top of their voices that JSD had seized power in Bangladesh with the backing of the army.

All through the night, they marched from hall to hall, through the Dhaka University campus, shouting revolutionary slogans. Some processions even advanced toward the Dhaka Cantonment. I watched everything unfold, a silent witness to the beginning of chaos.

As dawn broke on 7 November, the air was thick with frenzy. Loudspeakers blared across the campus, announcing that retired Colonel Abu Taher was now the supreme leader, and under his command, General Ziaur Rahman had been freed from house arrest. The JSD cadres declared that Colonel Taher, General Zia, and other senior leaders would address the nation from the Central Shaheed Minar that very morning.

Along with friends from SZHH, I made my way toward the Shaheed Minar. On the way, we saw hundreds of military trucks and tanks filled with soldiers, chanting slogans — “Sepoy-Janata Zindabad,” “Gen. Zia Zindabad,” “Col. Taher Zindabad,” and “JSD Zindabad.” The Shaheed Minar ground was already teeming with thousands of people. Before 7 a.m., it was overflowing — a sea of civilians, soldiers, tanks, and convoys.

Although I was never aligned with JSD’s politics, I stayed there as an observer, curious to witness history unfold. A makeshift podium had been erected, and JSD leaders kept assuring the restless crowd that their revolutionary leaders would soon arrive to address them.

But around 11 a.m., a contingent of soldiers, loyal to General Zia, suddenly stormed the ground with tanks and opened fire on the podium. Panic swept through the crowd. My friends and I ran desperately back toward SZHH. Behind us, we heard screams and the sickening sounds of gunfire — countless lives cut short in minutes. When we finally reached the hall, gasping for breath, we knew we had narrowly escaped death. How many died that morning, I cannot say, but the rift between Colonel Taher and General Zia had already turned lethal.

General Zia, having been freed from confinement by Colonel Taher’s loyal soldiers, had initially embraced him and said, “Taher, you have saved my life. I am now at your disposal.” Yet soon after, he betrayed Taher. When asked to appear at the Shaheed Minar beside his saviour, Zia refused. That refusal marked the beginning of Taher’s tragic end — and Zia’s ascent as the chief architect of betrayal.

To look back now is to remember that Colonel Abu Taher was a true patriot — a man of courage, integrity, and immense love for his country. He had defected from the Pakistan Army in 1971, joined our Liberation War, and fought valiantly on the front lines, losing a leg in battle. He was one of the valiant sector commanders who led from the front.

After independence, Colonel Taher voluntarily retired from the Bangladesh Army while serving as Commander of Cumilla Cantonment. Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman later appointed him as Director of the Narayanganj Dredger Directorate. His deputy there was Engineer Ziauddin Khan — “Ziauddin Bhai” to me — a brilliant BUET graduate and a man of deep patriotism who had fought in the Liberation War.

I had the privilege of working with him years later, between 1981 and 1984, when we shared an office. We bonded deeply over our shared ideals. He loved me as his younger brother and always spoke with reverence of Colonel Taher — his honesty, his administrative acumen, and his unwavering commitment to the nation.

Ziauddin Bhai never knew of Taher’s deeper involvement in JSD politics, and when the news of his hanging came, he was devastated. It was incomprehensible to him that such a noble soul could be condemned by the very nation he had helped to free.

Colonel Taher hailed from Netrokona, close to my own home district of Kishoreganj. His father-in-law, Dr. Mohiuddin Ahmed — a respected physician — was a close friend of my father. Taher used to visit Dr. Mohiuddin’s home, only ten minutes’ walk from ours, and I met him there several times. He spoke in fluent English and often advised me to become a good citizen, though he never discussed politics. Had I known then of his involvement with JSD, I would have pleaded with him to stay away from its treacherous orbit.

Taher’s unyielding principles and moral clarity ultimately became his undoing. The JSD exploited his patriotism to advance its lust for power. He became their tragic pawn — and paid for it with his life.

Colonel Abu Taher was a true patriot — a man of high moral standing and indomitable courage. And for that very reason, he was falsely framed and executed by the ruthless and unlawful regime of General Ziaur Rahman — a betrayal that remains one of Bangladesh’s darkest chapters.

Indeed, it was Zia who fractured a once-united nation. He brought back the collaborators — those who had aided Pakistan’s genocide — from disgrace to power. There had been no public demand to rehabilitate them, yet Zia displayed audacious arrogance in doing so.

He freed notorious war criminals from prison, restored the citizenship of fugitives, and paved the way for Golam Azam — the local architect of mass murder — to return under Pakistani protection. During Khaleda Zia’s first government, Golam Azam was finally granted full Bangladesh’s citizenship — a national shame.

Zia made Shah Azizur Rahman, a wartime collaborator, Prime Minister of Bangladesh. He brought Abdul Alim — later convicted of genocide by the International Crimes Tribunal — into his cabinet. His widow, Begum Zia, followed the same sordid path, appointing convicted war criminals Matiur Rahman Nizami and Ali Ahsan Mujahid as cabinet ministers.

The damage inflicted upon Bangladesh by Zia, Ershad, and Khaleda is immeasurable. They desecrated the very ideals for which millions died. They opened the floodgates to communalism, corruption, and moral decay.

These were not leaders — they were desecrators. They poisoned our national soul with medieval darkness, empowering the defeated forces of 1971 to reemerge from the shadows. They were the ghosts of betrayal — ghouls whose insatiable appetite for power and depravity defiled our sacred land.

They created a moral wasteland where the spirit of 1971 was mocked, and vice, greed, and cruelty ruled supreme. Their perfidy remains unforgivable.

Their mendacity is unpardonable.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

In a cruel twist of fate, the criminals’ progeny now don the robes of righteousness while the true patriots stand accused.

In the dismal theatre of Bangladesh’s recent political tragedy, a new act of deception unfolds. Draped in the solemn garb of justice but driven by blood-soaked ambitions, the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) Bangladesh now stands as a grotesque caricature of its former purpose.

The very institution once designed to mete out justice for the heinous atrocities of 1971 has been infiltrated—occupied—by those whose ideological ancestors – Jamaat-e-Islami mass-murderers bathed this soil in the blood of innocents.

Today, the hangman wears a wig, and justice lies gagged beneath his boot.

The ICT Bangladesh, once hailed as a beacon of national redemption, is now but a blighted husk—a sanctimonious facade controlled by those who once sought to crush the very birth of Bangladesh in 1971. Its judges, its prosecution panel, and its operatives are no longer guardians of truth. They are, in many cases, ideological descendants or direct cronies of the very Jamaat-e-Islami mass murderers who collaborated with the Pakistani army to massacre our people in 1971.

This is no idle allegation. It is a scream from the soul of a wounded nation. How did the butchers of Al-Badr and Al-Shams—the enforcers of genocide—regain the power to adjudicate truth and fiction? How dare they now point a crooked finger at the very architects of our liberation?

Those who once carried the green flag of Pakistan into our neighborhoods, who torched our villages, raped our mothers, and hanged our fathers, now sit in judgment over HPM Sheikh Hasina—the daughter of our founding father—and the Awami League stalwarts who carried the torch of independence through blood and fire.

The July–August 2024 events in Bangladesh—twisted into a grotesque narrative of state-led genocide—are being weaponized by these impostors. 98% murders were committed by the Jamaat-Shibir butchers and their direful mango-twigs! But they have now seized the ICT Bangladesh as their instrument, not of justice, but of revenge. They seek to rewrite history, to humiliate the legacy of 1971, to exonerate the traitors and criminalize the freedom fighters.

This is a blasphemy of the highest order.

The tribunals have become kangaroo courts where truth is the first casualty. The prosecutors do not seek justice; they seek retribution for the defeat their fathers suffered in 1971. The judges do not interpret the law; they distort it, drape it around the gallows they build for patriots. These are not courts of law. They are execution chambers for history itself.

Let us remind these usurpers: HPM Sheikh Hasina’s government did not commit genocide in July–August 2024. Her government sought to preserve order when chaos was unleashed by foreign-backed infiltrators, aided by the very ideological heirs of Jamaat-e-Islami.

The arson, sabotage, and killings were not orchestrated by the state, but by a coalition of dark forces determined to unseat the legitimate government and restore the regime of direful collaborators.

Let there be no confusion—this is not merely a judicial matter. It is an existential crisis. The ICT Bangladesh has mutated into a Trojan horse of the Jamaati-Shibir nexus. Its continued existence in this form is a mockery of every martyr who bled on the soil of Bengal for freedom. The very men who once branded the war of 1971 as “haram” and pledged allegiance to the occupying Pakistani forces are now masquerading as custodians of justice.

How far have we fallen when the freedom fighters must plead their innocence before the ideological descendants of their oppressors?

In courtrooms darkened by deceit, verdicts are preordained. The hallowed robes of justice are smeared with the filth of hypocrisy. And those who cry for a fair trial for Sheikh Hasina and her colleagues are dismissed, vilified, and condemned.

Yet it is the nation that must rise.

We must speak not just as citizens, but as inheritors of a sacred cause. We must rise in unison against this vile masquerade of justice. We must denounce the ICT Bangladesh for what it has become—a collaborator’s tribunal, a platform for vengeance, a stage for the desecration of our liberation war.

The institutions that betray the soul of a nation have no right to exist.

It is, therefore, imperative that ICT Bangladesh in designedly the current form be disbanded—tout de suite. Its structure, infiltrated by Jamaati sympathizers, has lost all credibility. Its verdicts are poisoned, its judges compromised, its mission perverted. The house must be torn down, brick by brick, and a new temple of justice must be built upon its ashes—one that honors the martyrs, that reveres the truth, and that punishes the real criminals of our blood-stained past.

This is not merely a political stance. It is a moral imperative.

Let us revisit the history these court jesters now seek to erase. In 1971, over three million of our people were butchered. Over three hundred thousand women were raped. The killers were not nameless shadows—they wore uniforms provided by Pakistan and were guided by the murderous hands of Jamaat-e-Islami and their Al-Badr militias. They swore to crush the dream of Bangladesh. They failed—because brave men and women stood tall, among them Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, his true-blue lieutenants and his indomitable daughter HPM Sheikh Hasina.

And now, fifty-four years later, we see the grotesque irony of history: the children of those butchers deciding the fate of those who built this nation.

No! A thousand times, no!

We cannot allow this to continue. We must name the imposter judges. We must unmask the collaborators in prosecutor’s clothing. We must confront every verdict that reeks of vengeance and vendetta. The ICT Bangladesh, as it stands today, is a dagger in the back of our history. It has become a safehouse for the ideological murderers of 1971.

If we stay silent, we become complicit.

This is the hour to rise—not with arms, but with truth. Not with blood, but with remembrance. Let every Bangladesh’s people who still feels the heartbeat of 1971 throb in their veins raise their voice. Let the youth know that justice is not a costume, that truth cannot be handed over to traitors, that history must be defended.

Sheikh Hasina is not on trial. Bangladesh is.

This tribunal is not about the past. It is a cold war for the future.

Do not allow the hangman’s wig to fool you. Beneath it is the same rotting head that once declared our liberation illegal, our flag a provocation, our language a blasphemy.

Disband ICT Bangladesh as it is twisted now to serve their evil designs. Root out the Jamaati infestation. Purge the judiciary of traitors. Let the nation reclaim the moral compass of 1971.

And to those who sit in judgment today—be warned. The people of Bangladesh are not blind. The river of our memory runs deep. And when justice returns, as it must, it will not be cloaked in hypocrisy. It will come roaring like a storm, not to hang patriots, but to redeem them.

History does not forget.

And neither shall we. A vile masquerade of justice – The International Crimes Tribunal, Bangladesh beneath Jamaati-Shibir butchers’ cloak.

If foreign powers are allowed to rebuild and manage our logistics, the flames will have accomplished what no weapon could: the silent colonisation of our economic will.

A raging inferno has seared through the very heart of Bangladesh. The catastrophic fire that engulfed the cargo complex of Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport (HSIA) on 18 October 2025 was far more than an accident—it was a Brobdingnagian assault upon the nation’s soul, a fiery wound gouged deep into the flesh of our sovereignty.

Beneath the veil of smoke and confusion, one may discern the dark outline of a deliberate design—a sinister attempt to weaken the arteries of our economy and to corrode the foundations of our independence.

The Day the Gateway Burned

On that ill-fated afternoon, flames erupted near Gate 8 of the HSIA import-cargo village, spreading with terrifying speed through interconnected warehouses. Within hours, vast stocks of imported materials, export-ready apparel, and vital product samples—the lifeblood of Bangladesh’s garment industry—were consumed by the blaze.

It raged through the night, resisted containment for more than twenty hours, and by dawn left behind a charred wasteland of twisted steel, blackened concrete, and the acrid stench of ruin.

The cargo complex handles more than 600 metric tons of dry freight daily, its activity nearly doubling during the October–December export season. The timing of the disaster could not have been more devastating.

As the Bangladesh Garment Manufacturers and Exporters Association (BGMEA) lamented, thousands of sample consignments—“the very foundation of buyer confidence”—were destroyed. This may lead to cancelled contracts, delayed payments, and a grave erosion of trust in a US$47-billion sector that sustains nearly four million workers.

But the losses transcend mere commerce. Economists fear that indirect costs may exceed US$1 billion in disrupted logistics, missed export deadlines, diverted air routes, and fractured supply chains. The world’s second-largest garment exporter after China now faces not only an economic blow but a spiritual one—the shattering of national confidence.

This was no mere industrial mishap. It was an assault upon the republic’s lifeblood.

The Shadow of Design

To the casual observer, the HSIA blaze may appear accidental. Yet, when history and coincidence intertwine too neatly, vigilance must replace naivety. Within the same week, multiple industrial fires erupted across key export hubs of Bangladesh. Are we to believe these are unrelated? Or do these synchronized calamities bear the fingerprints of a coordinated effort to cripple Bangladesh’s trade network?

For decades, our land has been coveted as a strategic jewel in South Asia—where the tectonic plates of global power grind ceaselessly. Between China’s Belt and Road ambitions and America’s Indo-Pacific containment strategy, Bangladesh’s ports, islands, and transport corridors have become pieces on a grand geopolitical chessboard.

From Chittagong’s deep-sea port and the prospective Sonadia project, to Saint Martin Island and the expanding rail links toward Cox’s Bazar—our geography has become both our blessing and our curse.

In this context, the fire at HSIA—Bangladesh’s central cargo hub—cannot be dismissed as coincidence. This facility is the beating artery of our export economy. When it falters, foreign logistics operators, investors, and intelligence-linked agencies gain openings to insinuate themselves into our infrastructure.

What begins as “disaster relief” often ends as quiet domination. Thus, a charred cargo village could become the Trojan horse for external control over our most vital economic organ.

Consider the invisible strategies of hybrid warfare—where guns are replaced by financial instruments, and sabotage masquerades as accident. A sudden fire, an offer of “assistance,” a foreign management proposal—and gradually a nation’s sovereignty erodes, not with explosions, but with contracts and consultancy.

This inferno, in that light, is not merely an act of destruction—it is a geopolitical stratagem, a modern act of subversion cloaked in smoke.

Freedom Under Fire

Nelson Mandela once observed, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

In the glowing embers of the HSIA cargo village lie the singed dreams of millions—the women of Gazipur, Narayanganj, and Savar, whose hands stitch hope into fabric. Their labour has built Bangladesh’s global reputation, yet it is their livelihoods now trembling in uncertainty.

The airport’s cargo complex is not an isolated structure; it symbolizes our national agency. To cripple it is to diminish Bangladesh’s autonomy. When a nation’s logistical heart is scorched, foreign corporations step forward as saviours, offering “expertise” that conceals exploitation. When our economic pulse weakens, our political will begins to wane.

If we permit foreign interests—whether American, Pakistani, Chinese, or others—to tighten their hold on this facility under the pretext of reconstruction, we risk becoming a client state cloaked in the illusion of partnership. That is not the freedom for which our martyrs bled in 1971. Their sacrifice was for self-reliance, not subservience.

The Imperative for Vigilance

The HSIA tragedy must become a catalyst for awakening, not apathy. Three urgent imperatives must guide our response:

1. An Independent Investigation: A transparent and nationally led forensic inquiry is essential. The eerie recurrence of industrial fires cannot be brushed aside as coincidence. We must determine whether negligence, corruption, or deliberate sabotage lies beneath the ash. Silence will not preserve sovereignty—it will annihilate it.

2. Reconstruction Under National Control: The rebuilding of the cargo complex must remain under complete Bangladeshi ownership. The temptation to invite multinational logistics giants to “modernise” or “manage” the facility will be immense. Yet that very path leads to dependency. Bangladesh must rebuild from within—by its engineers, its workers, its spirit.

3. Strategic Audit of National Assets: A comprehensive audit of all ports, airports, islands, and rail corridors must be undertaken to ensure that no covert agreements have compromised our autonomy. Strategic sovereignty must be treated as sacred, for once ceded, it cannot easily be reclaimed.

Jean-Paul Sartre wrote, “When the rich wage war, it is the poor who die.”

Today, when the rich wage invisible wars—through finance, influence, and information—it is again the poor who suffer most. They lose jobs, wages, and dignity, while unseen actors reshape the fate of nations.

The Soul We Must Salvage

Bangladesh’s soul does not reside in parliaments or policy papers. It beats in the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine, in the resilience of factory workers, and in the cargo shipments that carry their labour across seas. When those shipments burn, the nation’s very spirit burns with them.

The inferno at HSIA is not merely a fire—it is a metaphor for a greater siege upon our autonomy. If foreign powers are allowed to rebuild and manage our logistics, the flames will have accomplished what no weapon could: the silent colonisation of our economic will.

Rachel Carson once warned, “The human race is challenged more than ever before to demonstrate our mastery—not over nature, but of ourselves.”

So too must Bangladesh master its response—to rise not as a supplicant nation, but as a sovereign one.

Concluding Points: Reclaiming the Flame of Freedom

Let the inferno at Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport be remembered not as an accident, but as an alarm. It reminds us that Bangladesh’s sovereignty—won at the cost of rivers of blood in 1971—remains fragile and must be defended anew against the invisible colonisers of the 21st century.

The time to act is now.
The time to reclaim our soul is now.
The time to resist the flames of geo-economic subjugation is now.

Let the smoke rising from HSIA not mark our despair—but our awakening.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.