The situation was turning volatile as the day began. From my accommodation in an upscale Dhaka locality, I could see thousands of youths thronging the streets since morning. They stormed Ganabhaban, the prime minister’s residence, and took their spoils of war with whoops of joy.
Others projected the war outwards and took on everything that came their way, looting shops and ransacking houses — their own country became like Rome to the Vandals. The only certitude was that the regime had collapsed, otherwise uncertainty reigned. Even at the basic level of the idea of Bangladesh: protesters were, after all, even going for the statue of its architect, ‘Banga Bandhu’ Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, with hammer blows.
Is history being rewritten — or even unwritten — for this small nation, no stranger as it is to juntas and assassinations? I could see a strange irony playing out: a moment of joy for a whole mass of people out there, and yet streaked through with contrary emotions like despair and doubt.
The Army chief says he has spoken to all parties, barring the deposed Awami League, and his words signal at an interim government. Yet, perhaps he too has little clarity about how events will unfold.
I have been in Dhaka — the city of mosques and muslin — for one-and-half years. Of late, the city has resembled a northern Indian city of the early ’90s, roiled by the anti-Mandal agitation. This too started as an anti-quota protest.
But its joyous climax has descended ominously into chaos — which comes in to fill the gap at all points when authority collapses. On Sunday, more than 100, including cops, had died across the country. Monday being the ‘Long March’ day, I was afraid a lot of blood would be spilt on Dhaka streets. Fortunately that didn’t happen.
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