H.M. Nazmul Alam

On a winter morning in Dhaka's Gulshan, a place better known for embassies, cafés and the illusion of order, a woman was tied to an electric pole and doused with water.

The alliance suggests that ideological clarity was always negotiable.

Dipu Chandra Das did not die because he insulted a religion. He died because accusation has become a more powerful weapon than truth, and because crowds in Bangladesh increasingly believe that outrage is evidence enough.

What makes these events unbearable is not only their brutality but also the uncanny normalisation that follows.

There are few places in a country that so completely represent its image as an airport. It is both a threshold and a mirror, reflecting not just the physical state of a nation but the moral tone of its institutions. For Bangladesh, Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport (HSIA) has long stood as that symbolic gateway—the first and last impression for millions who travel in and out of the country each year.

When a city demands miracles to survive its own design, something fundamental has gone wrong.

For two decades, Bangladesh lived under a comforting numerical, statistical, and sweetly deceptive illusion.

His reemergence through the recent interviews represents both a promise and a paradox.