The Hijack of History When I realized even truth can be politicized After I started questioning religion, I turned my eyes to the state. I was still young—maybe in 10th grade—when I had a thought I couldn’t unsee: Why are our ministers not experts in the ministries they lead? I noticed it first in agriculture—the…
When religion met reality As a boy, I was known as the “good Muslim kid.” I prayed five times a day. Not just in passing — I was muazzin for the small prayer room in the Union Parishad building. My grandfather had convinced the chairman to start a mosque room there, and I was its…
Early memories of injustice and confusion I was in ninth grade when we moved into a newly renovated government quarter in Hathazari—a former seed storage facility turned into housing for public agricultural staff. My father, a development officer, was one of the first to be placed there. The house stood in an open field, with…
From a Room in Hathazari I don’t remember the exact date. Maybe it was ninth grade. Maybe a little later. But it was definitely before university—before anyone expected me to be thinking about how the world should work. I was living in Hathazari—a quiet little town in Chattogram. Just five minutes from our house stood…
