Dhaka: The chant that echoed across parts of Dhaka University was a song — “Razakar, Al-Badar kichhui robey na re… shobai bheshe jaabe Bongoposagar-e” (Razakars and Al Badr, none will remain… they all will be flushed into the Bay of Bengal) — and on this humid evening it felt less like a threat than a release. The words, drawn from the bitter lexicon of 1971, carried across the campus lawns as students danced, waving red-and-green flags and filming themselves on their phones. For them, it was symbolic of the mood — relief that Islamists and extremists had not managed to win the elections.
Ruma Zohra, 21, her hair uncovered and face streaked with glitter from an impromptu celebration, said she had rushed from her dormitory when the early results became clear. “This is a day of celebration. We are happy that those who wanted to bundle us up in burkhas, ban us from politics, stop us from public spaces have been kept at bay.” Zohra was one of scores of students who came out to celebrate what they described as a reclamation of their “space” — a word repeated so often that it sounded almost territorial. But it was clear what she meant, the space to move, to speak, to dress, to dissent, as students all over the world seek.
Dhaka University has long been the country’s political barometer, from the Language Movement of 1952 to the Liberation War of 1971, and the protests that have periodically convulsed the country afterwards. It has always been Dhaka University and within the university – Madhu’s canteen – which has stood out as the centre of political thinking. This week, that shift appeared unmistakable. Bangladesh, after 18 months of turbulence under an administration led by microfinance entrepreneur-turned politician Mohammad Yunus, seems poised for another tumultuous political transition.
Preparations are underway for the formation of a new government under Tarique Rahman, the 60-year-old leader of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, helmed in the past by his father General Zia Ur Rahman and his mother Begum Khaleda Zia. The numbers, as always in Bangladesh, are still being argued over. Turnout stood at nearly 60%, according to the Election Commission, nominated by Yunus. Many doubt those figures, arguing actual participation was nearer 40%. Newspaper reports speak of 180% voting in some polling booths! There are debates about “yes” and “no” votes in certain constituencies.
In a handful of seats, last-minute victories by Jamaat-e-Islami and the National Citizens’ Party have raised eyebrows. But the overall sense is that the nation is accepting of the election results and will live with it. Jamaat, once an ally of BNP against the Awami League, now finds itself in the opposition benches, an outcome that electrified many on campus. The Awami League itself, led by ousted PM Sheikh Hasina, was barred from contesting under an executive order issued during the Yunus administration. Its longtime ally, the Jatiya Party, failed to win a single seat, even in its traditional stronghold of Rangpur. In Khulna, a region once regarded as an Awami bastion, Jamaat made notable gains.
The alignments have shifted so dramatically that old binaries no longer hold. Some Awami supporters, according to analysts, quietly voted for either BNP or Jamaat. Communist candidates drew fewer than a thousand votes each. What emerged, many observers say, was less a triumph of ideology than a collective tilt toward the centre — a rejection of what voters perceived as drift toward ideological extremism. Political discourse across Bangladesh centres on whether BNP’s Tarique Rahman can unify a polarised nation and restore a sense of predictability.
Over the past year and a half, allegations of mob violence, land grabs, arson and attacks on minorities have unsettled many citizens. Business leaders speak of strained banks and faltering exports, particularly in the vital readymade garments sector. Diplomats talk of visa backlogs and strained ties with neighbouring countries. Yet the tasks ahead are formidable: restoring rule of law, reviving an economy under strain, recalibrating foreign policy and enforcing discipline within his own party ranks. To start with, Jamaat and NCP are still unreconciled to the poll verdict which saw many of their leaders — including the likes of Sarjis Alam, who led the August student revolt against Sheikh Hasina — biting the dust in the electoral arena. With organised cadre-based street power, these parties could cause early headaches for Rahman.
Naem Nizam, former Editor of Bangladesh Pratidin, said: “These will be among the early challenges for Rahman. How decisively he tackles these challenges will show how he will govern Bangladesh in the years ahead.” Back on campus, the students seemed unconcerned with such granular challenges. Their celebration was visceral. Firecrackers burst over the Arts Faculty building. A group unfurled a banner declaring, “1971 is not negotiable.” The chant against Razakars and Al-Badr, terms that conjure collaborators of the Liberation War, was less about policy than about identity. Bangladesh’s politics has always been haunted by 1971.
To call someone a “Razakar” is to question their moral standing in the nation itself. Sheikh Hasina’s popularity fell among students when she called for a generation born decades after independence, the invocation is striking proof that the founding trauma remains a living political vocabulary.
Whether this moment marks genuine renewal or simply another turn in the country’s cyclical politics remains to be seen. Elections here rarely settle arguments, they more often than not reframe them. But for one night at least, under the banyan trees of Dhaka University, the students claimed a small victory. They sang of washing away ghosts into the Bay of Bengal, and in doing so, announced their hope that the next chapter of Bangladesh’s story might be less about fear and more about space.
