Ayear ago, I was a working journalist. I had been editing and writing stories for years, often tucked away in the back of a newsroom. Then one day, history erupted around us, and I found myself at the very centre of it. I broke the story for Agence France-Presse that Sheikh Hasina had fled to India.
That single dispatch changed my life overnight. Within hours, the world was reading my words, but within days I was no longer only a reporter. I was asked to become the press secretary to the chief adviser of the interim government, the 2006 Nobel Prize winner, Prof Muhammad Yunus. The change was almost surreal.
I went from being a fairly anonymous editor to becoming the face of the government. Shop owners greeted me on my morning rounds. Rickshaw drivers would call me by name when I walked through Dhaka’s streets. Neighbours I had scarcely spoken to before suddenly asked me about the direction of the country. It has been the honour of a lifetime to serve in this role and to work closely with men and women of true vision.
The people who gathered around Prof Yunus in those early days were not career politicians or hardened bureaucrats. They were citizens who simply wanted to help. Many of them abandoned secure jobs or took leave from professions in law, medicine and teaching. They gave up weekends and evenings with family. They put their personal safety at risk. I saw ordinary citizens transform themselves into statesmen and women, into advocates and negotiators, into reformers and administrators.
When I think back to those terrifying July days last year, I remember the brutality unleashed by the Sheikh Hasina regime. The crackdown claimed hundreds of young lives. Mothers searched morgues for their children. The temptation to answer violence with violence was everywhere.
But it was Prof Yunus who stepped forward with the calm of a moral leader. His voice carried both compassion and authority. He called upon the nation to rise above vengeance and to focus instead on building a democratic future. He possessed the international credibility that the moment demanded. When he spoke, the world listened, and when the world listened, Bangladesh was given the breathing room to survive.
Many feared that once the regime fell, Bangladesh would spiral into lawlessness. We had every reason to expect chaos, but instead something remarkable happened. Citizens rose to the occasion. Courts opened. Schools resumed. Markets stayed stocked. Volunteers patrolled neighbourhoods. Police units returned to duty under new oversight. Far from collapsing, Bangladesh showed the world a resilience that even its own people had doubted. Over the last 12 months, we have secured real achievements.
Billions of dollars in financial support have been pledged by multilateral institutions and by foreign partners. International investors who once looked at Bangladesh with suspicion now see a country committed to transparency and reform. Inflation, which many predicted would surge uncontrollably, remained stable and is now declining fast.
Perhaps most significantly, negotiations with the United States led to the reduction of a proposed 37 per cent tariff on exports down to 20 per cent. That decision alone has saved hundreds of thousands of jobs and has given breathing space to our most important industry. Inside the country, we have tried to tackle the suffocating bureaucratic gridlock that strangled public administration for decades.
Thousands of government employees have finally received overdue promotions. Transfers have been made on merit rather than party loyalty. Disciplinary actions have been taken against officials who abused their positions. This may sound technical and uninspiring, but in practice, it means citizens receive services more quickly and fairly. It means files no longer gather dust for months in a forgotten drawer. It means that competence matters more than allegiance.
Diplomatically, the government has reopened doors that had been slammed shut under the previous regime. Relations with Pakistan have been revived on a footing of mutual respect. Our ties with China have been rebalanced to focus on investment in infrastructure and industry. These moves have diversified our foreign policy and have also created opportunities for trade, employment and technological transfer.
Yet I remain aware of how fragile it all is. The Hasina years did more than corrode institutions. They bred distrust among citizens and fear of authority. Undoing 15 years of politicisation is painstaking work. The commissions set up to examine electoral reform, constitutional reform and anti-corruption measures have been working without rest, but true change will take time and patience.
Our greatest responsibility is to ensure that when elections are finally held in February 2026, they will be free and fair. As I reflect on the year, I realise how far I have travelled personally. From a quiet editor of wire reports, I have become a public voice for a government of transition. At times I wonder how history will remember me. I suspect I will fade back into anonymity once elected representatives take over. We will hand this government to leaders chosen by the people.
When that happens, we will step back into the crowd, proud of the service we gave. I will remember the courage of those who stood beside me, the vision of Prof Yunus and the resilience of ordinary Bangladeshis. I will remember the pain of the past and the promise of the future. Above all, I will remember that we chose to rise above anarchy, and by doing so, we gave Bangladesh a chance to begin anew.
The author is press secretary to the chief adviser of the interim government of Bangladesh.