H. M. Nazmul Alam

As I stand beneath the sky of March, awash in the colours of red and green, I feel the pulse of Bangladesh pounding through every corner of this land. It is more than the fluttering of our bicolour flag or the echoes of our anthem; it is the story of a people who dared to dream of freedom—and paid for it in blood, courage and sacrifice. Today, on 26 March 2025, we do not just commemorate the birth of a nation—we celebrate its rebirth.

This year’s Independence Day carries a weight unlike any before. It is a chapter we are writing with our own hands, in a Bangladesh that has risen from its apathy, awakened from its slumber. And at this moment, as fireworks light up the sky and patriotic songs fill the air, I am reminded of one man whose courage ignited the flame of our independence on this very day—Shaheed President Ziaur Rahman.

When the darkness of 25 March 1971, fell upon Dhaka and the brutal machinery of Operation Searchlight began its genocidal rampage, a young army major in Chattogram knew there was no turning back. As Ziaur Rahman later wrote in his article “Birth of a Nation”, first published on 26 March 1972, “This was the time for the final decision. In no more than a few seconds I said, we revolt.” And revolt he did. On the afternoon of 27 March 1971, from Kalurghat Radio Station, Major Ziaur Rahman read out a proclamation that would become etched in our collective consciousness “I, Major Zia, Provisional Commander-in-Chief of the Bangladesh Liberation Army, do hereby declare the independence of Bangladesh.” Those words were not just a declaration; they were a promise: a promise to every mother mourning her son, to every father fighting for his land, to every child hoping for a life beyond fear. And that promise carried through the hills and plains, across rivers and towns, calling upon Bengalis everywhere to rise for their liberation.

Ziaur Rahman’s role on 26 March was not one of mere symbolism; it was an act of defiance and bravery that rallied a nation. His leadership in those early days of uncertainty turned the tide of despair into determination. From leading his battalion to arrest Pakistani officers, to his strategic defence of the Chattogram-Noakhali belt, Zia embodied the dream he had long harboured since his cadet days: “From that time, I carried a single dream deep in my heart—that if I ever got the chance, I would strike at the core of Pakistan’s existence.”

Zia’s life remains an enduring symbol of courage, pragmatism and national pride. His actions on 26 March were not for political gain; they were for the survival and dignity of his people. It is fitting, then, that on this 26 March, we remember his reflections:
“If, overall, we are faring better than before, then I will say we are getting the benefits of independence. If our condition is worse than before, then I will say this is not the independence that we sought.”

And today, as we look around, we see a nation where those benefits are no longer measured solely in economic terms, but in freedoms reclaimed and futures reimagined. Fast forward 55 years, and here we stand on 26 March 2025—not merely as beneficiaries of that first independence, but as builders of a second one. This year’s Independence Day feels different. It is different.

For too long, Bangladesh had drifted into a fog of political complacency, its youth disillusioned and its streets silent. For too long, freedom seemed like a relic of the past, and the promise of independence appeared unfulfilled. Corruption, injustice and authoritarianism had left many believing that meaningful change was beyond reach.
Then came the July Movement— a revolution not just in politics, but in spirit. It was the same pulse that beat in our freedom fighters’ chests in 1971 that echoed in Shahbagh, Jatrabari, Uttara, in the streets of Dhaka, and in the hearts of young Bangladeshis who had been told their voices did not matter. As one of them, I can say with certainty: we believed again.
I remember sitting at my desk in the first week of last July, irritated looking at my newsfeed, thinking it was just another protest. But by 4 August, we were there, standing shoulder to shoulder with tens of thousands, shouting for one demand: a Bangladesh that belongs to its people again.

We were not seasoned activists. We were students, teachers, deliverymen, software engineers, homemakers, ordinary people who found something extraordinary within themselves. The July Revolution was our ‘We Revolt’ moment, and as I stood there, chanting with hoarse voices and tired limbs, I thought of Ziaur Rahman’s own words from 1971- “We will build our own fate, we will take our decisions. That is why we wanted independence.” We had rediscovered that right.
This Independence Day is different because it is ours in a way it has not been for years. It is not just a national holiday; it is a renewal of the social contract between a government and its people, born not from political manoeuvring but from the raw power of collective will.

We have crossed a threshold. No longer are we the generation seeking visas to escape; we are the generation fighting to stay and rebuild. The despair that once drove us away has been replaced by hope. As proud flags are raised, and patriotic songs reverberate across schoolyards and stadiums, let us remember what this day truly stands for. Not just the end of colonial rule, not just the creation of a nation, but the enduring right of a people to self-determination. So today, on the 26 March 2025, we recommit ourselves to the ideals of justice, equality and democracy. We promise to guard the independence won in 1971. We promise to be vigilant, to never again fall silent in the face of tyranny. This time, we will win it not just for ourselves, but for every generation to come.
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The writer is an academic, journalist, and political analyst. He can be reached at [email protected]