THE DEAD MUJIB IS MORE POWERFUL THAN THE LIVING MUJIB

Fifty years ago, on a blood-soaked wee hour of 15 August 1975, the heart of a nation was ripped apart.

The man who had dreamt of a sovereign land for his people, who bore the scars of imprisonment for long, betrayal, and exile, was murdered along with most of his family in the sanctity of his home at Dhanmondi 32. Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the Father of the Nation, died not by fate, but by conspiracy and cowardice by the American deep state CIA, their bootlickers ISI and their direful local confederates. And yet, as we reflect on the golden jubilee of his martyrdom in 2025, the haunting truth resounds louder than ever before: the dead Mujib is more powerful than the living Mujib.

For those who laid siege to history, who thought the bullets that silenced his voice would mute his vision, they misunderstood the timeless law of martyrdom. Leaders may fall, but legends rise. Ideals, when watered with blood, grow indestructible roots. Today, Bangabandhu’s spirit walks taller than ever—not just in the corridors of history, but in the silent stirrings of every Bengali who longs for justice, dignity, and freedom.

August 15, 2025: A Nation Betrayed Again

This year, on the solemn 50th anniversary of his assassination, a heart-wrenching injustice was once again inflicted upon the people of Bangladesh. Law enforcement agencies, under the command of the unlawful, Yunus-led puppet regime, blocked mourners from entering the Bangabandhu Memorial Museum at Dhanmondi 32. Thousands of citizens—young and old, children of war heroes and freedom-loving patriots including this writer and freedom fighter in 1971 to establish Bangladesh at the clarion call by Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman—were prevented by barricades, threats, and the dark arts of fear from offering their homage.

How tragic and ironic it is that the house where the dream of a free Bangladesh was nurtured, where the first declarations of courage were whispered, has now become a fortress under siege—not by foreign occupiers, but by the regime claiming to rule in our name. Armed with tear gas and terror, these anti-Bangladesh goons and their dreaded “mango-wigs”—a new breed of neo-collaborators—turned this sacred day into a grotesque theater of oppression.

A Ghost More Powerful Than a Throne

“You can kill a man, but you cannot kill an idea.”

— Medgar Evers

What those usurpers fail to understand is that Bangabandhu was never just a man. He was a movement. He was a moment. He was the embodiment of a people’s dream to live free, to speak in their own tongue, to vote, to farm, to read, to breathe in dignity. That is why, even as his physical self was destroyed, his metaphysical presence remains undefeated.

The living Mujib could be jailed. The living Mujib could be betrayed by his own men. But the dead Mujib? He is unshackled. He is eternal. His shadow looms larger than the regimes that mock his memory. His voice echoes louder than the propaganda machines trying to erase his name. And his dream? It is now interwoven in the very soil of Bangladesh except some direful anti-Bangladesh liberation forces.

Every time a young student shouts “Joy Bangla” with clenched fists, Mujib lives. Every time a farmer tills the field in free Bangladesh, Mujib breathes. Every time the red and green flag flutters against the sky, the world sees Mujib's reflection in its waves.

The Crime of Remembering

What has this nation come to when the act of mourning becomes an act of rebellion? When the people must dodge police batons just to stand before the house of their martyred Father? When the word “Mujib” must be whispered like a curse in a land that he gifted freedom?

The very men and women who once chanted “Joy Bangla” with hollow lips now cower behind foreign-funded thrones, fearing the resurrection of Mujib’s legacy. These forces—at home and abroad—who profit from division, religious extremism, and economic subjugation, know that Mujib’s dream is their nightmare.

Because Mujib stood for unity. For secularism. For justice. He dreamed of a Bangladesh not just free from Pakistani boots, but free from poverty, ignorance, and exploitation. That is why today’s enemies of Bangladesh fear even his statue, let alone his soul.

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

The Eternal Flame

No regime, however brutal or cunning, can outlast history. The dark chapter written on 15 August 2025—where citizens were denied their right to remember, reflect, and revere—will not be forgotten. These barricades will fall. These puppet rulers will be swept away by the tide of truth.

Because Bangabandhu is now more than a man—he is a moral compass. An idea that refuses to die. His unfinished dream continues to inspire those who fight for a more just and prosperous Bangladesh. His life is now a testament that the power of people, when united in spirit, is stronger than any army of cowards.

There is a poem in our hearts that no dictator can erase:

“Joy Bangla and Joy Bangabandhu

Shall remain immortal in our inward souls.”

This is not merely a slogan. It is a vow. A promise that we, the people of Bangladesh, will guard his memory not just with flowers and tears—but with resolve. We will protect the Bangladesh he envisioned, from both foreign invaders and domestic traitors.

History Will Judge

Let the world bear witness: when the people were blocked from Dhanmondi 32, they did not retreat. They carried Mujib in their hearts, and that, no police force could touch. Let future generations know that the golden jubilee of Mujib’s martyrdom was marked not just by sorrow—but by a rising fire. A fire that will cleanse this nation of imposters and bring back the true spirit of '71.

Those who desecrated this sacred day may think they have won a moment. But Mujib owns the century.

“Bangladesh will rise again,” he once said. 

And so she shall. With his name written across her chest.

Bangabandhu’s Bangladesh Shall Rise Again

As we look toward the horizon, we do not see defeat. We see determination. The more the enemies of freedom try to erase his legacy, the more visible he becomes. The more they try to silence “Joy Bangla,” and “Joy Bangabandhu” the louder it roars from the lips of the oppressed.

So let it be declared in defiance and dignity: The dead Mujib is more powerful than the living Mujib. His absence is a wound that bleeds courage. His silence is a thunder that shakes tyrants. His memory is a mirror before which all traitors must one day stand.

On this golden jubilee of his martyrdom, we say not farewell—but “Welcome back, Father.”

You never left. You never will.

Joy Bangla. Joy Bangabandhu.

Written by Anwar A. Khan 

Bio: The writer was a frontline freedom fighter in 1971 to establish Bangladesh, based in Dhaka and is an independent political analyst, writing on politics, leadership, and international affairs.

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