**One Year Without Hasina: Democracy or Déjà Vu?**
Listen up, Bangladesh—because the carnival of power doesn’t stop when the ringmaster packs her bags. It’s been one year since Sheikh Hasina exited the political stage and the post-Hasina era kicked off not with a bang, but with seventeen committees, a power-sharing council, and more press conferences than actual progress. Welcome to the new Bangladesh: same script, different cast, and the audience is getting restless.
Now before the loyalists start lighting candles for the “mother of the nation” and the radicals start painting murals of the revolution, let’s get one thing straight. The youth protests didn’t just boot Hasina; they cracked open the illusion that democracy was a well-behaved civil servant scribbling notes in a policy briefing. What emerged wasn’t a phoenix—more like a parliament Frankenstein stitched together with slogans, suspicion, and stopgap solutions.
Let’s cut through the sanctimony. The so-called “transitional council” is about as transitional as a permanent residency visa. Packed with career bureaucrats, retired generals, and a sprinkle of social media darlings for flair, the current power structure is less a roadmap forward and more a traffic jam of confused ideals. Bureaucracy is the new boss—same as the old boss, just wearing hipper glasses.
That’s not to say the revolution didn’t have juice. Thousands of fed-up youth flooded the streets not for Instagram likes, but for a chance to redraw the power lines. They wanted accountability, transparency, and maybe—just maybe—a future where the state doesn’t feel like a surveillance project disguised as a democracy. But the question a year later is this: were they heard or just herded?
The economy? Still dangling like a piñata between IMF recommendations and domestic discontent. Inflation is playing tag with people’s paychecks, and while the new finance minister promises reform, he’s speaking in spreadsheets no one understands. Oh, and let’s not ignore the digital crackdown dressed up as “cyber security”—because nothing says freedom like prosecuting memes.
Meanwhile, the old political titans who once bowed to Hasina’s iron rule are sneaking back into the conversation. One former MP now calls himself a “change consultant.” Cute. Another is running grassroots events in rural Sylhet with a slogan that roughly translates to, “See? I Told You So.” The vultures are circling and they’re wearing democracy pins.
And where’s the international community? Busy applauding the peaceful rise of a “people-led transitional period,” as if handing the keys to a burnt-down house qualifies as a ribbon-cutting ceremony. Bangladesh may no longer be dancing to Hasina’s tune, but don’t be fooled—the music still belongs to the establishment.
So what’s next? Don’t hold your breath for a clean-cut election with flowers and kumbayas. That’s not how power works in Dhaka—or anywhere else. Expect quiet deals in smoky backrooms, youth leaders seduced by cabinet titles, and NGOs filing optimistic reports while the machinery churns along. The game’s on, and if you think it’s played on the ballot alone, you’ve been watching the wrong match.
To the protestors dreaming of real change: keep your eyes open and your strategies sharper. Revolutions are not one-night events; they’re full-contact marathons—and the finish line tends to move.
To the new rulers trying to spin chaos into consensus: the crowd is watching and they’ve upgraded from slogans to strategy.
And to the so-called international observers clapping politely from afar: save your applause. Bangladesh is still dancing on a wire, and no one’s quite sure who’s holding the other end.
This isn’t a democratic rebirth—it’s a sequel. The question is: will it be a blockbuster or a box office flop?
Stay tuned. I don’t just cover the game—I break the scoreboard.
– Mr. 47
