I still remember that Independence Day parade at school when I was in Class IV. I stood on the dusty field in my crisp white uniform, clutching a miniature flag. The sun beat down on our faces as our teacher began to recount the story of our Liberation War. “On this day in 1971,” she said, her voice quivering with pride, “we broke free from tyranny. We earned the right to call ourselves free.” That day, I felt something stir inside me — a sense of awe, pride, and belonging. The applause was thunderous, the slogans loud, and I believed every word.
But years later, as I waited in a government office to process a simple document — watching officers delay my file unless I paid a bribe — that pride felt hollow. As I walked past homeless families under flyovers, knowing billions were being siphoned from public funds, I asked myself: Have we truly become independent? When I heard about a young woman being denied justice after her perpetrator walked free — protected by his power and connections — I realized how often we mistake symbolic freedom for actual independence.
Bangladesh won its sovereignty on March 26, 1971, through the blood of millions, the cries of raped women, the fire of destroyed villages, and the silence of mass graves. This nation was born not just out of political struggle, but out of human suffering. And yet, more than five decades later, the promise of that freedom remains heartbreakingly unfulfilled.
Independence, as we have learned, is not a one-day event. It’s not a line on a calendar or a moment frozen in history. It’s a process — ongoing, unfinished, and fragile.
We raised our flag. But did we raise justice with it?
We sang the anthem. But did we harmonize equality?
We built monuments. But did we honour the dreams that lived — and died — for freedom?
Independence means more than having our own territory or our own passport. It means the power to shape our destiny without fear or favour. It means every child gets to go to school without begging on the streets. It means every woman feels safe walking home. It means the law does not bend for the powerful and break the powerless. It means we can live with dignity, without having to pay a bribe, pull strings, or know someone influential to get my rights.
So, I ask again: Will we ever be independent?
We fought to speak our language, yet how many children in our own country are denied education today? We demanded representation, yet how many voices are drowned out by political rhetoric, bureaucracy, or violence? Yes, we won our independence as a nation. But the real question remains — have we truly built a society where freedom, justice, and dignity are not just ideals, but lived realities for all?
Our enemy today does not come wearing uniforms or carrying guns. Our enemy is subtler — corruption, apathy, lawlessness, inequality, and a lack of empathy. We are held hostage by a system that prioritizes privilege over people, power over principles.
Every year, organizations such as Transparency International report on the high levels of corruption in Bangladesh. It is not just about embezzled funds or shady deals. It is about stolen futures. It is about children who die in unlicensed hospitals. Farmers who don’t get subsidies unless they bribe a clerk. Students who cannot get jobs because recruitment is rigged. Victims of crimes who are blamed, silenced, or ignored.
And yet, we call ourselves independent.
We often point fingers at foreign conspiracies, but rarely do we confront the local systems that fail us every day. Independence is not just about being free from external control — it’s about being free from internal decay. Until our courts are fair, our media uncensored, and our streets safe for women, we cannot call ourselves truly independent.
Think of the rickshaw-puller who gets beaten for entering a “VIP” zone. The single mother who works 14 hours a day yet can’t afford her child’s medicine. The ethnic minorities who lose land due to corporate greed. The youth who, despite degrees, must seek work abroad for a better life. They are not free — not in the way our martyrs envisioned.
Empathy, too, is a casualty in this unfinished war. In our rush for GDP growth, smart cities, and digital infrastructure, we often forget the human beings at the center of it all. When was the last time we stopped to listen — to truly listen — to the pain of another Bangladeshi, without judgment, without agenda?
In a truly independent nation, the rule of law is not a luxury for the elite; it is the foundation of society. And yet, so many live in fear of speaking the truth, fearing defamation cases or worse. Journalists, whistleblowers, even ordinary citizens — many are punished not for wrongdoing but for demanding accountability.
If the law protects only the powerful, and punishes the brave, then we are not a democracy — we are a masquerade. This is not the Bangladesh our freedom fighters dreamed of. This is not the Bangladesh millions died for in 1971.
But despite it all, we hope.
We hope that one day, the traffic sergeant will refuse the bribe. That the hospital will treat the poor without delay. That a teacher will not demand private tuition for good grades. That a factory worker will return home safely. That a journalist will write freely.
We hope that justice will not be sold, and kindness will not be rare.
Bangladesh is our beloved homeland — born of immense sacrifice, nourished by the courage of its people, and sanctified by the blood of its martyrs. Our sovereignty is not just a constitutional fact; it is the essence of our collective identity. Those who have been raised on this soil, sustained by its resources, and sheltered by its skies — yet choose to act against the nation’s interests or align with forces that seek to undermine it — must remember: Bangladesh has withstood immense trials and has never bowed to subjugation. And it never will.
But we must stop subjugating ourselves through silence, compromise, and complacency.
So this Independence Day, let us do more than wave the flag and wear red and green. Let us ask: Have I contributed to making this country truly free? Independence begins within — when we refuse to accept injustice, when we stand up for what is right, and when we practice empathy over ego.
Will we ever be independent?
Only if we choose to be. Only if we decide that patriotism is not just a slogan, but a responsibility. Only if we protect not just our borders, but our people. Only if we remember that the war we won in 1971 was not the end — but the beginning.
So this Independence Day, don’t just hope. Act.
Speak up.
Stand tall.
Be kind.
Fight for the independence we are yet to achieve.
Nasrin Pervin is a faculty member of North South University, Bangladesh.
PQ: We fought to speak our language, yet how many children in our own country are denied education today?
