Some campuses are remembered for academic brilliance. Others for political ferment. Dhaka University is remembered for both, and for the night it was turned into a killing ground. In March 1971, as the Pakistan Army tried to crush Bengali nationalism, its soldiers stormed into Jagannath Hall, Rokeya Hall, Salimullah Hall, and the faculty residences along Fuller Road. They killed professors in front of their families, shot Hindu students in their dormitories, and left the grounds soaked in blood.
Those massacres were carried out with help. The Pakistan Army did not know which rooms housed student leaders or which professors supported Bengali autonomy. It was Jamaat-e-Islami, through its student wing and allied militias, that supplied the names, the lists, the directions. Jamaat was not Bangladeshi in 1971. It was Pakistani. It helped Pakistan kill Bangladeshis in the name of defending Islam and Pakistan’s unity.
Now, fifty-four years later, Jamaat’s student wing, Islami Chhatra Shibir has swept the Dhaka University Central Students’ Union elections. The same campus once drenched in blood because of Jamaat’s collaboration is now ruled by Jamaat’s heirs through ballots instead of bayonets.
The symbolism could not be starker: the collaborators are back.
The night Dhaka University bled
On 25 March 1971, Operation Searchlight began. The Pakistan Army descended on Dhaka University with tanks, artillery, and machine guns. Their aim was clear: destroy the heart of Bengali resistance by eliminating its students and professors.
Jagannath Hall was attacked first. Hindu students were dragged from their rooms and shot. Grenades exploded in stairwells. One survivor recalled in testimony decades later: “They came room to room. I heard screams, then silence, then the boots moving closer.”
Rokeya Hall, the women’s dormitory, was shelled without mercy. Windows shattered, beds splintered. A student later remembered: “We pressed against the floor, covering our ears, waiting for the end.”
At Salimullah Hall, boys tried to flee into the courtyard but were gunned down where they stood.
On Fuller Road, professors’ residences were invaded. Families begged for mercy. Professor Govinda Chandra Dev, known for his humanism, opened his door after soldiers shouted in Urdu: “You son of an infidel, open the door!” His daughter, Rokeya Sultana, later told investigators: “They struck his head with a rifle, then shot him in the chest. He collapsed in the doorway of his own home.”
Dr. Abdul Muktadir, a young geologist, was dragged from hiding and executed on the spot. His body was later found in a mass grave at Rayerbazar, alongside dozens of abducted intellectuals.
By dawn, Dhaka University was a charnel house. Hundreds were dead. The Army had struck not just at people but at the soul of Bengali identity.
Jamaat’s collaboration: Pakistani first, Bangladeshi never
But Pakistan’s soldiers did not act alone. They were aided by collaborators who knew Dhaka’s streets and its students. At the centre was Jamaat-e-Islami.
Led by Ghulam Azam, Jamaat declared loyalty to Pakistan. Azam thundered at rallies: “It is the religious duty of every Muslim to defend Pakistan against conspirators.” To Jamaat, the “conspirators” were Bengali nationalists, the very students and professors massacred at Dhaka University.
On 4 April 1971, Jamaat leaders helped form the Central Peace Committee, pledging to work with the Army. From Jamaat’s student wing, Islami Chhatra Sangha, came the cadres of the Razakars, Al-Badr, and Al-Shams militias.
These militias provided the Army with names and faces. Survivors later testified: “The soldiers could not tell us apart. It was the boys from Islami Chhatra Sangha who pointed them to our rooms.”
In December 1971, with Pakistan facing defeat, Al-Badr militia, dominated by Jamaat cadres abducted Dhaka’s intellectual elite: professors, doctors, poets, journalists. Many were taken from the university itself. They were tortured, executed, and dumped in mass graves at Rayerbazar and Mirpur. The aim was chillingly clear: even if Bangladesh became free, it would be leaderless.
After independence, Jamaat was banned for its role. Decades later, Bangladesh’s International Crimes Tribunal convicted Ghulam Azam and other Jamaat leaders for crimes against humanity, finding that they had “conspired, incited, ordered and facilitated” genocide.
The verdict confirmed what survivors had always said: Jamaat was not Bangladeshi in 1971. It was Pakistani, fighting to keep Pakistan united and helping kill Bangladeshis who dreamed of independence.
September 2025: the return of Jamaat
That is why the 2025 DUCSU election result feels like history turned inside out. Islami Chhatra Shibir, Jamaat’s student wing, now controls student politics at Dhaka University. The collaborators’ heirs are back on the same campus where their forebears betrayed classmates to their deaths.
Jamaat’s leaders hailed the victory. Party chief Dr. Shafiqur Rahman called the polls “free, fair, credible and peaceful” and congratulated the new DUCSU leaders, urging them to “rise above political affiliations.” For Jamaat, long ostracised, the election was redemption. For many in Bangladesh, it was betrayal revisited.
This was not just a protest against the Awami League or the BNP. It was an endorsement of Jamaat’s ideology: Islamic authenticity, moral order, rejection of secular nationalism. That such an endorsement came from Dhaka University- the very cradle of secular Bengali resistance, makes it even more alarming.
Bangladesh in flux
Bangladesh today is unstable. Sheikh Hasina’s fall in 2024 after years of authoritarian rule left a vacuum. The interim government of Muhammad Yunus has struggled with unrest. Islamist groups like Hefazat-e-Islam have staged vast rallies, demanding stronger Islamic identity. Secular parties are discredited, youth disillusioned.
In this chaos, Jamaat has slipped back into the mainstream. Once banned and reviled, it now offers itself as a clean alternative. To many students, weary of corruption and dynasties, Jamaat’s call for “Islamic order” feels like hope.
The DUCSU victory proves Jamaat is no longer confined to madrassas or rural enclaves. It has penetrated the elite, educated core of Bangladeshi society. Student politics at Dhaka University has always been a nursery for national leadership. Today’s Shibir leaders could be tomorrow’s ministers.
Why this is dangerous
The implications are clear and troubling.
- Memory is at stake. Dhaka University, drenched in blood because Jamaat sided with Pakistan, is now run by Jamaat’s heirs. History risks being rewritten.
- Leadership pipeline. DUCSU leaders often become national politicians. Jamaat now controls that pipeline.
- Ideological shift. Islamism is no longer marginal. It is now embedded in Bangladesh’s most prestigious university.
India’s national security: a looming risk
For India, Jamaat’s resurgence is more than a neighbour’s internal matter. It carries direct security consequences.
- Cross-border radicalisation. India’s Northeast shares a porous border with Bangladesh. A Jamaat-tinged Dhaka raises the risk of Islamist groups providing safe havens or ideological inspiration to militants in Assam, Tripura, and beyond.
- Rohingya radicalisation. With nearly a million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh, empowered Islamists may radicalise camps, spilling unrest into India’s border states.
- Erosion of counter-terror cooperation. Dhaka and Delhi’s recent partnership against extremist networks could weaken if Jamaat gains greater influence.
- Minority pressure. Hindus and other minorities could face escalating persecution, forcing migration into India’s border states.
- Geopolitical tilt. A Bangladesh leaning Islamist could align with powers willing to exploit that ideology, complicating India’s Bay of Bengal strategy.
Survivor voices: reminders from 1971
One former student told the tribunal: “They thought they could kill our spirit by killing us in our rooms. Instead, they gave us independence. But we never forgot who showed them the way.”
Another survivor, recalling the December abductions, said: “It was Al-Badr who came for our professors. They were not strangers. We saw them on campus. That betrayal was worse than death.”
These voices cut through time. They remind us that Jamaat’s resurgence is not abstract politics. It is the return of collaborators who once hunted classmates through Dhaka University’s halls.
Razakars are back?
The halls of Jagannath, Rokeya, Salimullah, and the leafy lanes of Fuller Road still echo with the screams of 1971. The graves at Rayerbazar still hold the bones of intellectuals executed by Jamaat’s militias.
And yet in 2025, Jamaat’s student wing sits at the helm of Dhaka University’s student union. The collaborators are back, not with rifles, but with ballots.
For Bangladesh, this is more than a campus election. It is an ideological reversal, a rewriting of memory, a test of whether the nation still honours the blood spilled in 1971. For India, it is a strategic warning: jihadi ideology, once unleashed in 1971 to defend Pakistan, has returned to Bangladesh’s heartland and if left unchecked, it could cross the border again.
The question is simple, but urgent: will Bangladesh remain true to the pluralist, secular spirit born of sacrifice, or will it embrace those who once tried to strangle it at birth?
