Honestly, at this point, I’d love to see all the little pocket parties — Jamaat and NCP — form an alliance and take power, if they even can. Let them run the country once and show us how far empty slogans and recycled drama can actually go.
To be honest, staying out of power has become our new comfort zone. We’ve gotten so used to the sidelines, we’ve started bringing our own chairs. Just give us some breathing space — no tear gas, no police vans — and we’ll manage just fine.
Let Jamaat and NCP come to power and run the country with their two-taka populist formulas, loud slogans, outdated ideas, and a bonus of moral policing. While they handle that circus, maybe it’s better for us to go on a Tabligh-style chilla — not for showdowns, but to fix what’s broken at the roots, starting with ourselves.
Who knows, maybe under this new regime, we’ll get daily waz mehfils in parliament — Amir Hamza on the mic, explaining economic policy through stories of Reshmika’s elegance. And Jamaat? They’ll fix the economic crisis by locking up the entire female workforce at home — because obviously, that’s how you grow a garments-based economy.
BNP is a big party, sure, no argument there. But that’s not a free pass for sleeping at the grassroots and vanishing online. You can’t run a movement with nostalgia and a few half-broken Facebook pages run by admins who think MS Paint is graphic design.
Even if just ten NCP members show up somewhere — with five probably being Jamaat-Shibir in disguise — the real discussion isn’t politics, it’s about which “tender chicken” they’re chasing next. No ideology, no plan — just a bunch of self-branded revolutionaries looking for contracts, clout, and maybe a free concert pass or two, all while pretending they’re the only ones who see the truth.
To be fair, NCP is working really hard to stop the Awami fascists and their backers from coming back into politics — unless the backers come with a fat enough envelope. Then everything suddenly becomes flexible. After all, someone has to fund the party’s next program and their sudden lifestyle upgrades.
We in JCD like to think we’re the brave frontline — the last real force standing against BAL. But most days, we’re just unpaid security guards for NCP. They stroll into Gopalgonj with three slogans and a borrowed megaphone, we deal with BAL, and then they rush to social media claiming no one could enter Gopalgonj before — while quietly escaping in Army APCs. Funny how the same Army that was once called “gaddar of July” by Hasnat is now their personal Uber when things get too real.
At this point, it feels like we’re stuck in a one-sided relationship with a toxic girlfriend. We do everything — run the errands, take the blame, fight the battles — and in return, she just points at someone else’s husband and says, “Dekho Mayeeshar husband koto bhalo. You can’t even buy me a bangle since last week.” And of course, the usual divorce threat shows up every Friday, right before Maghrib.
Jamaat’s double standards are so next-level, calling them munafiks almost feels unfair to actual munafiks. They’ve stretched the word so far, it’s begging for early retirement. Honestly, we might all fall short at times, but Jamaat has turned contradiction into a lifestyle. At this point, even Shakespeare would’ve given up and said, “Sorry bhai, this one’s beyond English.”
Before getting the green signal from NCP and Charmonai — who once proudly called them rude, unmannered, undisciplined, munafiks, and completely unreliable — Jamaat’s Ameer had about five different positions on the election. Sometimes they wanted it delayed, sometimes held immediately, sometimes after some reform, sometimes without any reform at all. Maybe that’s the leadership we deserve now — the kind that takes a national decision the way people choose a restaurant: confused, inconsistent, and always needing someone else to go first.
Mahfuj Alam demands the razakars be kicked out, while Hasnat Abdullah marches beside them shouting “Desh karo baper na.” And yet, both stand on the same stage, waving at the same crowd, under the same banner. It’s not confusion — it’s choreography. One plays the patriot, the other plays the protester. Meanwhile, we’ll just be in our version of public chilla — quietly observing, taking notes, and maybe learning a thing or two about how to turn double standards into a political art form.
While they’re out there busy chanting slogans and going Live from every area of the country, maybe it’s time we take a Tabligh-style pause — not to disconnect, but to reflect. And instead of forming another so-called “Cyber Force” — which, let’s be honest, can’t even coordinate a proper online movement — maybe this time we focus on learning, thinking, and finally putting smart, capable people in the right positions. Right now, it’s just everyone posting whatever comes to mind — no timing, no purpose, just a constant stream of late narratives that arrive after the drama’s over and the camera crew’s already packed up.
Maybe one day, more of us will actually try to be as composed and steady as Tarique Rahman, Salahuddin Ahmed, Mirza Fakhrul, Ameer Khasru, and the rest — not just when giving statements, but in real political thinking. And maybe then, the grassroots will realize: real power isn’t about blocking roads and marching like you’re modeling for politics. It’s about showing up for people — not showing off for cameras.
I’m someone who genuinely values religion — though for Jamaat and Charmonai, I might never be “Muslim enough” by their mysterious checklist. Still, I believe in spreading true Islamic values, along with the ethical teachings of other religions — because Islam and morality don’t come stamped with an organization’s logo. I want to spread Ziaur Rahman’s philosophy of multiparty democracy, meritocracy, freedom of speech, and economic stability — not through noise, but through real groundwork.
JCD — apart from turning every wall in the city into a museum of outdated, eye-straining posters that no one even stops to read — might finally be stepping into some much-needed clarity. Meanwhile, Jamaat, NCP, and Charmonai are busy rehearsing their dream government in their heads, as if power might just arrive in their sleep. We’ve been dragged down by years of jail, false cases, abductions, and constant repression — which obviously slowed us down both online and offline. But now that we’re regrouping with force, maybe it’s time we let the fairytale run its course — so the country can finally see what happens when bedtime stories try to run the state.
Author: Student of English department of the University of Chittagong, activist of Bangladesh Jatiotabadi Chatradal
