A political story from Bangladesh

 

Dhaka, 2025. The air was thick with the honking of cars, protest chants, and the hum of news drones buzzing above the streets. Hasib Rahman, a 22-year-old university student, stood at the edge of a massive crowd gathered near Shahbagh. His placard read:

"Democracy is a Right, Not a Privilege."

Bangladesh had just come out of another heated election. Social media was flooded with videos of rallies, arrests, blackouts, and debates. The ruling party claimed victory — again — but opposition leaders cried foul. Allegations of vote-rigging, suppression of dissent, and digital surveillance filled the airwaves.

Hasib wasn’t a hardcore activist. He studied political science and ran a podcast with friends, where they discussed the Constitution, student movements, and freedom of expression. But lately, two of his classmates had been picked up for “online defamation.” One had posted a meme. The other had shared an article critical of a powerful official.

His parents urged him to be careful. “This is not the time to be a hero,” his mother whispered. “We’ve seen what happens.”

But Hasib couldn’t stay silent. He remembered the stories of the 1971 Liberation War, how his grandfather had smuggled supplies to freedom fighters. “Freedom means more than a flag,” he’d said. “It means speaking without fear.”

The protest grew tense. Police in riot gear lined the streets. A water cannon rolled forward. Hasib gripped his phone tightly. He wasn’t live-streaming. Not yet. But he recorded everything — just in case the truth needed to be told later.

Back in a tea stall down the alley, older men shook their heads. “This country swings like a pendulum,” one said. “From one strongman to another.”

“But the youth,” another replied, sipping his tea, “the youth… they’re different now. They question more. They record. They remember.”

That night, as tear gas filled the streets, Hasib slipped away through the back roads of Dhaka, not as a hero, not as a rebel, but as part of something bigger — a generation caught between fear and hope, silence and voice, past and future.

And in that storm, he still believed something better could rise.