The nationality I introduce myself with in foreign circles, on identity cards, and in legal documents. It used to evoke a sense of nationalism — not the popular anti-India sentiment many Bangladeshis carry as if it’s a part of our identity — but a nationalism rooted in the 1952 Language Movement, the 1971 Liberation War, and the 2024 Student Liberation Movement, all of which reflect our spirit of resistance and fight for democracy.
‘Rokto gorom, matha thanda’ (hot-blooded, cool-minded) was the phrase we tied to this nationalist sentiment, and we wore it like a badge. I did too. But this time, as I held the badge in my palm, the rust began to peel away every sentiment attached to it. It no longer reflected our spirit — it was now tainted by ideologies that don’t even belong in the same room as the Bangladeshi identity. And this isn’t just about the anti-India rhetoric anymore; it includes traits that sprout from a rotten fruit, contaminating the rest.
The influencer sentiment
On the 21st of July 2024, an F-7 aircraft crashed into the Milestone School and College campus in Dhaka. The jet slammed into the primary building around 1:30 p.m. Students from junior classes had already finished their school day but were waiting for coaching classes. The building caught fire, students were trapped inside, and some tried to escape while burns covered their bodies — and yet, citizens rushed in only to pull out their devices and record the scene. A video surfaced showing a young boy — likely a fourth or fifth grader — limping and running with his body on fire, his skin tearing off, while people stood there watching and filming. I want you to picture this: a child, not even a teenager yet, begging for help and crying aloud while grown adults went live on Facebook.
Documentary footage is necessary, and journalists from across the city clearly rushed to the scene to do just that. But the real question is for regular citizens who felt the need to go live instead of helping evacuate or getting medical support for those children.
The business sentiment
There’s a joke Bangladeshis often make about themselves: “If the Day of Reckoning were upon us, our kind would probably raise the price of prayer mats and beads.” It’s not a point of pride but a satire on our tendency toward self-interest. That self-interest was evident during the crash. Even while watching kindergarteners and middle schoolers burning alive, with their red skin visible and their limbs collapsing, auto-rickshaw drivers refused to spare the market. They charged Tk. 1000 — far above the usual Tk. 200–400 — to parents and volunteers rushing kids to the hospital. Capitalism has never thrived better than in a tragedy like this, where one profits off another’s crisis.
The standby sentiment
When a journalist asked a young man (around 20) why he was still standing near the campus with a child (under 10), he replied that he came to witness the scene and see the plane. The majestic tragedy of children’s deaths, in mothers’ wombs, turned to grief, became a sightseeing spot. Another woman (appearing between 20 and 30) was asked why she was recording instead of helping evacuate, and she turned the question on the journalist, who, unlike her, had a duty to document. She said she’d leave if things got worse.
The political sentiment
Bangladeshis today are very political — not in the sense of civic awareness or democratic action, but in the sense of constant party promotion, even in moments of crisis. The Ameer of the Jamaat-e-Islami party rushed to the scene, not alone, but with a full entourage, right where nurses and student volunteers were pleading to reduce the crowd. His supporters claimed he offered financial help and was a doctor, justifying his presence, while critics accused him of turning it into a political appearance — complete with a sports show.
Online, netizens began debating whether the BNP was doing more to help than Jamaat, engaging in political arguments under posts about the fire, while a father stumbled to his knees, crying to volunteers: “You won’t find my daughter. She’s burnt to a skeleton already.”
Finally, the blame game
Consider the Milestone crash alongside the Rana Plaza collapse under a former autocratic regime — what follows is always the same pattern. People criticise the interim government, mourn for a day, and then push for elections to elevate the party they prefer. But no one demands change. Reformation comes only when our blood is stirred and fades just as quickly. Despite the brutal killing of Abrar Fahad in 2019 by student political activists, student politics remains embedded in our institutions in 2025. Despite another F-7 jet crashing in 2008 due to technical issues, no one questioned the aircraft’s obsolescence before training a solo pilot. We may still be living up to the “hot-blooded” side of our identity — but we have yet to show the cool-headed conscience that must come with it.
To end on a “positive” note
Not all Bangladeshis. Sultan’s Dine, a restaurant in Dhaka, rushed in with bottles of water. Student scouts helped children evacuate. Strangers donated blood, shared urgent updates, and carried burnt children to hospitals despite not knowing their names. Some people still hold real sentiment in this country — but as long as our nationality is smeared by this larger contamination, the goodwill will not flourish enough to unify us, as nationalism should.