By Al Sadi Bhuiyan

DHAKA, Aug 10, 2025 (BSS) — Akhtar Hossain, Member Secretary of the National Citizen Party (NCP), said that during the July mass uprising, people took to the streets who had never met before, yet in moments of danger, they stood by one another. Strangers carried the wounded who had been shot, risking their own lives to save fellow protesters. “That period tied our nation together with a single thread — and that was our greatest achievement,” he said.

Akhtar Hossain has been a determined, idealistic political activist since his student years, consistently speaking out against injustice. His active political career began soon after he enrolled at Dhaka University. In 2018, he drew public attention by staging a hunger strike and sit-in over the question paper leak in the ‘Gha’ unit admission test. His firm stance forced the authorities to cancel the controversial exam and hold it again.

In the 2019 DUCSU election, he won the position of Social Welfare Secretary by defeating the candidate backed by the Chhatra League — which was a significant political moment. In 2021, he served as President of the Dhaka University unit of Bangladesh Chhatra Adhikar Parishad, establishing himself as an unwavering and effective leader through various activities for students and the public.

In July 2024, the historic 36-day quota reform movement evolved into a mass uprising. As Convener of the non-partisan student organization Ganatantrik Chhatra Shakti (Democratic Student Force), he again became a trusted figure among students. By working above personal gain and self-interest, he carved out a distinctive identity in politics and earned wide acceptance even beyond the student sphere.

Born in Sadra Taluk village of Tepamadhupur Union, Kaunia Upazila, Rangpur, to Abdus Salam and Rokeya Begum, Akhtar completed his Dakhil from Viahat Piaria Fazil Madrasa and Alim from Dhap-Satgara Baitul Mukarram Model Kamil Madrasa. He later graduated in law from Dhaka University. Rising from a remote village, he now leads one of Bangladesh’s most talked-about political organizations.
The path from student leader to national leader was far from easy for Akhtar Hossain. He faced repeated imprisonment, assaults, lawsuits, torture, and threats to his life — yet stood firm, emerging as a leader of the country and its people.

Recently, in an interview with Bangladesh Sangbad Sangstha (BSS) reporter Al Sadi Bhuiyan, Akhter recalled his experiences in leading the movement, behind-the-scenes moments, repression, imprisonment, and eventual release.

Akhter said, “In 2018, a historic student movement grew across Dhaka University and other educational institutions demanding reform of the quota system. It was a democratic and rational movement. Students never demanded the complete abolition of quotas — rather, they called for reforms suited to the times. There was still justification for preserving some quotas to ensure representation of underprivileged and backward communities.

But the government, angered by the protesters, rushed to have then–Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina announce the complete abolition of quotas, later issuing a circular to that effect. From that moment, we feared the decision could be challenged in the higher court and that a different ruling might emerge. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened.”

In the interview, Akhter shared his memories of July uprising enunciating ins and outs of movement that saw at least 1400 deaths and approximately 30000 injuries.

Akhter said, “In 2024, through another one-sided election, the government became even more authoritarian. The small cracks in its power structure caused by earlier movements — the 2018 quota reform protests, the road safety movement, or the demonstrations over Abrar Fahad’s murder — were something they were desperate to repair. They reinstated student politics at BUET, which had been banned, and in the same way, they used a High Court writ to bring back the quota system.

On June 5, when the verdict was announced, I was working in my law chamber. I learned about it through Facebook. I saw posts pointing out that this was an unjust decision and a betrayal of what students had earned through their sacrifices. I began discussing it with leaders of Ganatantrik Chhatra Shakti. Some journalists also came to me, framing the quota issue as part of a government conspiracy. After consulting with Nahid, Asif, and Abu Bakr Mojumdar from our group, we decided to organize a protest rally on campus.

Our idea was to bring together as many general students as possible, along with those who had long been outspoken against injustice on campus through various platforms, to push the movement forward collectively. That evening, we held a united protest programme with them.”

Explaining why he chose to work from behind the scenes in the early stages, Akhtar said:

“By then, I had a long-standing political identity on campus — as someone who opposed the Chhatra League, opposed Indian influence, and openly criticized the government. If I had been visibly involved from the outset, the government could have easily given the movement a political label. So instead of joining the rally directly, I connected with students afterward. At the open assembly at the DU Bot Tola, I stayed nearby without taking the stage.

After that assembly, we held a closed meeting — me, Nahid, Mahfuz, Asif, Bakr, and a few others. We decided that the movement would not run under any party banner, but rather as a universal campaign where anyone supporting the cause could join. Our strategy was to prevent the government from branding it as political at the very start. So, I chose to work as an organizer from the background, close enough to coordinate, but not in the front line.”

Even though the campus closed for Eid, we decided to give the government until June 30 to withdraw the High Court verdict and reinstate the earlier quota reforms. We also started reaching out to students across the country, especially those in universities outside Dhaka, aiming to coordinate protests nationwide. We worked on building that structure.”

By July, the movement was in full swing: “Students began taking to the streets spontaneously. But whenever a procession passed by the dorm areas, Chhatra League activists would position themselves at the gates to block students from joining. Despite many tense situations, our early rallies made it past the dorm areas to Raju Sculpture. Eventually, we took positions at Shahbagh.

From there, the ‘Bangla Blockade’ emerged, spreading from Shahbagh to the Intercontinental intersection, then to Farmgate, and eventually towards the express way. By then, universities across Bangladesh — Jahangirnagar, Chittagong, other public universities, and National University affiliates — had joined in.”

The movement took a new turn on July 14: “That day, returning from abroad, Sheikh Hasina held a press conference where she demeaned protesting students as descendants of collaborators. She said, ‘If the grandchildren of freedom fighters don’t get jobs, should the grandchildren of Razakars get them?’ This sparked outrage, and protests erupted on the DU campus.

Initially, students chanted slogans like ‘Who are you? Who am I? — Razakar! Razakar!’ anonymously in the dorms. Late at night, as the women’s dorm entry timeline ended, thousands of female students came out. Male students from the dorms also rushed to Raju Sculpture. The slogans grew louder: ‘Who said it? Who said it? — Dictator! Dictator!’

That night, we received word that Chhatra League members were gathering near the Intercontinental with weapons, possibly preparing to attack. Given the history of brutal night-time assaults, we decided to pause for the night and resume the next day.”

July 15 brought violence: “Chhatra League announced a counter-program at the same time and place. When students marched towards Surya Sen Hall, their armed cadres attacked, injuring even female students. Many were bloodied. One widely shared photo showed a female student with a backpack being struck with sticks. Another student risked himself to evacuate female protesters to safety. These incidents deeply enraged students nationwide.”

On July 16, at the Shaheed Minar, tragedy escalated: “We gathered for a protest rally when news broke that Abu Sayeed had been shot dead. It was shocking and heartbreaking. 

 That night, we learned that six more had been killed by police gunfire. Alongside grief, deep anger took root — in any civilized state, such killings over a just and peaceful demand are unimaginable.”

The next day, Ashura, a gayebana janaza (funeral in absentia) was organized at Raju Sculpture. “Asif Mahmud asked me to see if we could bring the body of a student killed at New Market/Dhaka College to campus for the janaza. At the hospital, the victim’s family wanted to, but intelligence officers present kept intimidating them against it. Out of concern for the family’s safety, we abandoned the plan.”

Around 2 pm, Asif asked me to come to campus. Infront of Sheikh Russel tower, police had set up barricades, allowing no one in. I argued my way in by showing my student ID. At TSC, I saw a heavy police presence. Teachers’ programs had just ended. From the TSC building, I could see small groups at Raju Sculpture. There was no clear janaza preparation yet, but to reassure those gathered, I went there. Photographer Shahidul Alam was present, standing a bit apart.”

On the incident of his arrest, he said: “The police were not allowing anyone to stand near the Raju Memorial Sculpture at Dhaka University. I was determined to offer the funeral prayer there and remained standing. At that moment, the police surrounded me and ordered me to leave the campus. That day, the mobile network on campus was down, so I could not contact anyone. Later, I learned that students were organizing in the hall areas at that time, but there was no way to communicate with them because there was no mobile network.

When the police encircled me, I began to protest their order to leave, telling them: ‘The campus belongs to the students, and we are students of this campus. This campus is ours. We will not leave.’ The police surrounded me from all sides. I lay down on the road in protest, and two or three others lay down beside me. I kept saying: ‘As long as we are alive, we will not leave the campus. No one can force me out of here.’

The police then threw a sound grenade near my head. Several people were injured, including some journalists. The police then grabbed my arms and legs, lifted me up, and forced me into a prison van. From inside the van, I made an appeal to the people of the country, urging ordinary citizens to join the movement and stand beside the students.

I was first taken to Shahbagh Police Station, but without being taken inside, I was sent directly to Ramna Police Station. They kept me in the station lock-up, filed a case against me, and then produced me in court. The court granted a two-day remand, and I was sent back to Shahbagh Police Station. From the lock-up there, you could see the street through the station gate. That day, those who came to stand in solidarity outside the station were harassed by Chhatra League and Jubo League thugs. Many were beaten and dragged into the station. I saw my friend from my department, Molla Faruk Ehsan, being beaten and brought to Shahbagh. Countless others were brought in that day in a bloodied state. The police arrested some of them, while others were released. We were living in a truly terrifying situation.”

Sharing his early prison experiences and fears, National Citizen Party member secretary Akhtar Hossain said: “After the remand period, I was sent to prison. We were kept in condemned cells—designed for solitary confinement. Normally, one person is kept in such a cell, but they put five or six of us together. We could not leave the cell at all and had no way to communicate with our families during our time in prison.

One prisoner told me that many children aged 12–14 had been brought there, some in a bloodied state due to heavy beatings. They were in a very helpless condition. People had been arrested indiscriminately. There was no medical care, no contact with families, no access to lawyers. We were kept in conditions without any basic human rights.

We had no news of what was happening outside. Only when new prisoners arrived, or when someone was taken to court for a fresh case, did we hear fragments of information. We heard that the six coordinators of the movement had been arrested, but not the details. I once got hold of a page from a newspaper. It said people were being arrested across the country, many had already lost their lives, and the movement was ongoing.

When asked when he first got news about what is happening outside, he said: ‘It was the last day of July. That means for the first 10–12 days, we got no news at all. From July 17 onward, for a long time, we had no updates. I was desperate to know how my family was doing and how the protesters were faring, but I couldn’t find out. We prisoners didn’t even know if our families were safe, or if our comrades were alive, arrested, injured, or dead. That is a prisoner’s right—to know these things.

Many prisoners came in with only the clothes on their backs and no chance to change after bathing. Our families didn’t even know exactly which prison we were in or in what condition. We waited helplessly day after day for our release. Among all of us, a common determination grew: we must somehow be free of Hasina.’

Two days before August 5, they allowed us to walk in the corridor for half an hour, where we could talk to prisoners on the opposite side. We would write messages on paper and pass them around.”

Describing the events of August 5 inside prison, this political detainee said: “In the afternoon, we were suddenly told that the jail superintendent was coming. We returned to our cells. Then we noticed the guards who were always stationed outside had disappeared. There was an eerie silence all around.

After a while, we heard whispers that Sheikh Hasina had fled. But we had no way to verify how true or reliable it was. Later in the day, slogans suddenly erupted from one end of the prison: ‘Hoi hoi, roi roi, Sheikh Hasina gelo koi!’ (Where has Sheikh Hasina gone?). It quickly spread throughout the prison.

A wave of excitement and joy swept over the inmates. People banged plates and bowls against the iron bars. The silence of the prison was broken by shouts, cheers, and deafening slogans. At that moment, we realized—if in such a sensitive and guarded place everyone was shouting ‘Sheikh Hasina has fled’ in unison—then something big had indeed happened. We became convinced her downfall was real.

We were still locked in our cells, but we could see a few other cells across an open space. We would talk to each other face-to-face. During this time, we wrote a lot. I myself wrote several pieces and read them aloud to others. Writing and dialogue became our greatest strength in captivity.”

On his release from prison, he said: “At around 11 pm., two prison officials came to my cell and told me to come out. A sense of fear and unease filled me. In Bangladesh, incidents like the Jail Killing have happened in the past. I asked for some time, prayed two rakats of salah, and then left my cell.

When they brought me out, everyone in the prison could hear it. They addressed me by name: Akhtar Hossain, DUCSU Social Welfare Secretary. At that moment, two feelings worked inside me—hope and fear. I mentally prepared myself to face whatever situation awaited.

At the jail gate, I saw a few prison guards and army soldiers. I had been there twice before, but never saw soldiers. When I was taken into an office, the jail superintendent asked me to sit. My perception began to change when I saw on the TV in front of me the news that Sheikh Hasina had fled. Then I was sure—the Hasina regime had fallen.

“I was freed from prison around 11 pm.” 

On the mass participation in the movement, he said: “This time, the movement had some unique characteristics. On the night of July 16, something unprecedented happened at Dhaka University: the Chhatra League—long a force of suppression and intimidation in the halls—was driven out by general students. The halls were freed from Chhatra League control. That night was filled with joy, a feeling of victory. We kept checking which halls had been freed, and one after another, they fell. The remaining halls drew courage from these victories.

On breaking the Awami League’s narrative, he said: ‘On July 14, when Sheikh Hasina insulted protesting students by calling them “grandchildren of razakars,” students took to the streets. By July 16, they were ready to expel Chhatra League from the halls. Two important things happened: first, the Awami League’s suppression under the guise of Liberation War ideals was exposed; second, their “razakar” label was broken.

When Hasina tried to strip the protesters of their rights with that remark, students countered with the slogan: “Who are you? Who am I? Razakar! Razakar!”—turning the accusation back on her. This shattered the legitimacy of state violence built by the Awami League.’

On the expulsion of Chhatra League from the halls, he said: ‘When students successfully drove them out on July 16, it sent a message to the entire student community: if united against the Chhatra League, students can win. This became a milestone in the history of the movement.’

On the participation of private university and madrasa students, the NCP leader said: ‘Later, we saw private university students join in, even though their entry into government jobs is rare. When universities were closed, halls emptied, students evicted, and so many killed—they came out spontaneously. This revived the movement and pushed it toward success. Madrasa students, too—despite having little chance at government jobs—joined in, not for personal gain, but to oppose fascism and demand justice for killings and disappearances.

During this movement, people from all walks of life—public universities, private universities, madrasas, men and women, right and left— became united with one goal: to free Bangladesh from fascism. No previous movements in the country saw such broad class and professional unity.’

On leadership in the movement, he said: ‘Many of the frontline coordinators were arrested or disappeared. But because there was no single leader, the government couldn’t crush the movement by targeting one person. Second-tier leaders, less known to the public, kept it going. This was a strategic choice—collective leadership, not one-man leadership.’

On the people’s anger toward the Awami League, he said: ‘The people of Bangladesh had long been deprived of their right to vote, their civil rights, and had suffered from enforced disappearances, killings, and repression. State forces and ruling party cadres killed people daily, burned bodies, threw them from vehicles, even killed innocent children. This brutality fueled deep hatred toward the Awami League.

Unlike other revolutions or movements, this one saw people—many of whom didn’t even know each other—stand together in moments of danger. Strangers carried the wounded, risking their own lives to save comrades. This bound our nation together. That was our greatest achievement.

Most importantly, this movement made it clear: the people of Bangladesh will no longer tolerate any authoritarian ruler. It set a precedent so that no one dares such tyranny again.’

Akhtar Hossain concluded: ‘Through this uprising, a new generation has been born in Bangladesh’s political reality—one that is defiant, brave, steadfast, and able to stand against any injustice. This is a great achievement for our nation.’