A year since the mass uprising: Not wanting what we get

When we look at politics in Bangladesh, Rabindranath’s poem 'Morichika' (Mirage) comes to mind. In the final stanza, he writes: "That which I cling to, in that I no longer/Find any music at all./What I seek, I seek in error/What I get, I do not want" Are we chasing a mirage?

We first encountered the concept of a mirage in childhood textbooks: a weary traveler walking through an endless desert sees water shimmering in the distance. But it’s only sunlight reflecting off scorching sand, an illusion that ultimately leads to collapse and death. We seem to be running after just such a mirage, forever out of reach.

Politicians have taught us that if we listen to them and follow their path, we’ll reach the shores of happiness. And so we walk, roam and run, but the road never ends. Happiness never arrives.

Leaders present one manifesto after another, with such attractive names. They promise that we’ll reach the pastures of democracy, that socialism has arrived, a land without inequality. They tell us the country’s sovereignty is under threat. If we vote for them, it will be protected. Then, they say, all our needs will be fulfilled.

And we do have so many wants. Rabindranath gave voice to them in such beautiful language: "We want food, we want life, we want light, we want free air/We want strength, we want health, a life full of joy and vitality."

There was bloodshed and war. The country became independent, but the people did not. Since birth, I’ve seen a "wounded homeland". There  have been movements, regime changes, broken dreams, then all over again -- movements, regime changes, shattered dreams. It’s a vicious cycle. We return to where we started. The circle never breaks.

Patriotism is a sentiment. The desire for development goes hand in hand with it. Without development, what good is a country? A few well-established syndicates of seasoned players toy with this sentiment like a game of "kabaddi". They grow stout and strong. They turn from riding ramshackle tempos for flashy BMWs. One syndicate opposes another, meting out promises of hope. We forget what happened five or ten years ago. Once again, we run after the mirage.

Why has Golden Bengal become a cremation ground? That question had once taken our nationalist movement to the peak. We won independence. Our political guardians gifted us the worst famine of the century. While rice rotted in warehouses, people died of hunger on the streets. Since then, we’ve witnessed one ruler after the other, sometimes in civilian garb and sometimes in military uniforms.

The aspirations and sentiments of the people have been turned into political capital, leading to one regime change after another: 1971, 1975, 1990, 1996 and most recently, 2024. We witnessed the longest July in history. It felt like the poem: "We pledge our lives and deaths/Comrades, the final battle begins today/Come, let us unite." A massive boulder has rolled away, but then what?

Was 36 July an uprising, a rebellion, a revolution or a riot? Orators and writers are still debating over this. We cannot even agree on even a single word. Some say we’ve gained a "second independence." Everyone is now so free, they can do whatever they want. “Grab so-and-so, beat up so-and-so”-- that’s the daily routine now. Apparently, this is the nature of revolution: it obeys no rules. One is reminded of that line from Bhupen Hazarika’s song: “Old rules shatter in the storm of chaos.” We’ve been caught in that storm.

The country remains where it was. Authorities are floundering over the wording of the constitution. Government offices fail to provide services. The mafia still reigns over public transport. Boys from the villages are building drones and airplanes, while our top engineers are crafting rickshaws in backstreet workshops. What we really needed was a few thousand modern buses. What kind of backward mentality afflicts a nation that ends up like this?

Now we’re hearing talk of the "Three Zeros." Jokes are going around - zero growth, zero employment, zero law and order. What do we need first? Europe, after scaling the heights of industrialisation and growth, is now pursuing human development. We haven’t even managed a proper take-off. Are we going to hitch the cart before the horse? Can’t we understand what our priorities should be? The crop that’s most widely flourished in this country right now is "despair".

We haven’t yet moved beyond the rhetoric of politics. Everyone is stuck in their same old rhetoric. Some talk of 31 points, others of a new settlement, still others of politics rooted in accountability and empathy. Beautiful phrases!

When we look at the bigger picture, one year is nothing in the life of a nation. But we’re not starting from zero. Elections have been held in this country since 1919. Several political parties are over a hundred years old. Have we learned anything from that history? Or do we start all over again every five years?

The most talked-about word in the country now is "reform". But is reform only for the constitution? What are our real priorities? Can people survive on the constitution alone? To give people peace and relief, four services are most essential: education, healthcare, public transport, and public safety. We score poorly in all four. Do we really need to wait until the next election to start working on these? Can’t we begin now? We see no tangible progress.

Some are happy as long as the word "socialism" stays in the constitution. It must not be removed. Yet, some also want a “Caliphate.” Let the politicians keep wrestling with these words. They, after all, don’t have to worry about food or shelter.

If people are to survive, many things must be arranged for them. What’s most needed right now is the restoration of law and order and the creation of employment. Who is thinking seriously about these two issues? What good will it do to roar empty political slogans? The conventional political model won’t work in this country anymore.

In the July movement, we saw men and women, children and the elderly, all stepping out into the streets, risking their lives. These millions weren’t protesting about BCS exams or quotas. They wanted freedom from a suffocating and cruel system of governance. The quota reform movement was led by students. But the spontaneous participation of the people transformed it into a one-point movement. Except for a handful of beneficiaries and dynasty-worshippers, everyone wanted Hasina to step down. The movement wasn’t built with elaborate planning, blueprints or lofty statements of missions and visions. So now, after Hasina has fled, the question arises: which path will we take?

There’s no way forward without a social contract involving everyone. If anyone thinks they understand everything while others don’t, and that it’s their duty to guide everyone, they are mistaken. Our ability and willingness to move forward together will determine whether we can emerge from this stalemate.

Bangladesh is still burning. There’s no reason to think that 36 July brought history to a standstill. Nothing has been resolved yet.

* Mohiuddin Ahmad is a writer and researcher.
*The views expressed are the author’s own.