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.

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.