Md. Tanzim Hossain

I am writing to you because you once asked us to speak. Perhaps you don’t remember, but we still have unfinished conversations. This time, will you respond, or will you remain silent? Remember, it was the deprived who loved you most.

I know the stories of student and public movements. I know the dreams full of promises that emerged from the blood-soaked paths. But today, as the night deepens and cries of despair break the silence across the nation, one cannot help but wonder—have those dreams been lost?

Are you listening to the cries of those on the streets pleading for their safety? Have you forgotten your responsibility to those who sacrificed their lives in hopes of change? Why this insecurity? Why this inequality?

You once encouraged open criticism. This letter echoes that very criticism. It narrates a story where people have lost their trust because helpless sighs have replaced the promises you made.

The loss of three lives at the Ijtema grounds—is that just a statistic? Or does it signify a deeper crisis—an unstructured society? Despite commitments to curb extortion, the streets run red with violence.

The July massacre remains unresolved, leaving justice elusive. People are overwhelmed by the soaring cost of living, trapped under the grip of syndicates. Law and order have collapsed—people are attacked and oppressed at will. Sleepless nights are plagued by the fear of secret killings. How will you absolve yourself of this chaos? Are you not, then, a failure?

We sense that you and most of your advisors do not embody the spirit of the July uprising. Perhaps you lack any connection to that bloodstained chapter of history. Is that why you fail to understand the sacrifices made to overthrow the autocratic rule of the Awami regime? Almost 2,000 students and civilians gave their lives, hoping for a safe and just society. Yet today, those dreams lie buried under the dust of despair. Since you were absent then, perhaps you struggle to grasp the essence of that struggle.

We were part of the July revolution, not this government. That’s why, when people ask, “Why did you do it? We were better off before,” it leaves us feeling helpless. The revolution aimed for justice and security, yet the nation is engulfed in lawlessness and despair. Is this helplessness not your responsibility?

We’ve heard of your Nobel Peace Prize. But over the past months, the people of this country have not felt even a trace of that peace. Sitting at the heart of power, do you truly grasp this reality? Or are you content with the reflection of yourself in the mirror of authority?

Who will answer for the insecurity that grips the nation today? For the students staying up at night, anxious about their futures, who will take responsibility for their shattered dreams?

Perhaps you will say, “This time will pass.” But history teaches us that when the demands of time are ignored, they eventually rise as protests—and those protests grow even stronger.

We tell stories, stories of suffering. We dream of a just society where no one can spill blood with impunity.

So I urge you, break this silence. Come to the people. Listen to them. Lead not as a ruler but as a true representative of the masses. Remember, the doors of time never remain open forever.

The writer is a, Teacher and Journalist