Death of a Goldfish
It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way—angry, frustrated, and heartbroken, yet filled with hope. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that I’ve ever felt like this. I used to tell my friends that our generation has witnessed events destined to become dark chapters in Bangladesh’s history. There are numerous events I could mention, but the BDR mutiny and the Holy Artisan attack are two that profoundly changed how I feel about the people and government of this country. Yet, all I did was analyze and discuss them with my friends. The spark ignited during those events burnt out soon enough—for most people, it did.
People often say that Bangladeshis have the memory of a goldfish. When we witness something of that magnitude firsthand and still choose to live with the false belief that we are in the right hands, nothing really moves us or shocks us to our core anymore. At least, that’s what I used to think and feel about us.
But everything changed in July 2024. We received the shock we needed to come back to our senses. And this time, the jolt can be felt throughout the country. And the best part is that it didn’t fade away. It didn’t just vanish from our daily conversations one day. It has been there, and it’s still here. The ‘Quota Reform Movement’ resulted in unprecedented bloodshed, surpassing even the major mass uprisings of 1952 and 1969 in terms of casualties. This immense loss of life has awakened a collective consciousness that refuses to be silenced. It seems we only understand the language of blood. I’m saying this because there is a major similarity between this movement and our 1971 liberation war. Both were sparked by the blood of our brothers and sisters.
The death of Abu Sayed was the spark that ignited the flames this time. We have never felt such collective heartbreak and hatred. The video showing how the government used the police to brutally kill this unarmed student has left us all in tears. Not just Sayed—too many beautiful souls like Mugdho and Faiyaaz lost their lives because we were silent. And then it finally clicked—the blood magic took effect. The ‘bidrohi’ genes of our ancestors have awakened within us.
We are no longer just shedding silent tears. We have taken a stance and raised our voices against this regime. We are finally honoring all those ‘bidrohi’ souls who sacrificed their lives to uplift our spirits and inspire us to dream of a better Bangladesh. We must acknowledge that Gen Z has shown us what needs to be done and how to do it. As millennials, we have been hesitant for too long. Boomers did their part in 1971; now it’s our turn. We must unite for change. It’s now or never.