A child's guide to Bangladesh's power sector wonderland

When the National Review Committee finally released its report on Bangladesh's power contracts, it didn't need dramatic language. The facts were enough. Tenders were designed without real competition. Projects were approved without rigorous scrutiny of contracted prices, grid connectivity and fuel availability. Sponsors were shielded from risk while the public absorbed every shock. 

The report mapped a system where oversight was ornamental and incentives were misaligned. But sometimes the best way to understand complicated failures is to let a child ask the questions adults avoid. So here is "a bedtime conversation" between a very curious child and a very exhausted mother, trying to explain the inexplicable.

A child's questions for a system that forgot to ask its own

Let's start with the first wonder.

Child: Ma, why is Adani's big power plant for Bangladesh… not in Bangladesh?

Ma: Sometimes grownups make decisions like election manifestos — the public gets the poetry, but the prose quietly serves those in charge.

Child: But India doesn't allow local coal to be used for exporting electricity. So why Jharkhand?

Ma: It gets even stranger. The coal used at Godda moves through a supply chain almost entirely controlled by Adani — from mine to port to ship to rail to plant.

Child: So Bangladesh pays whatever Adani says the coal and transport cost?

Ma: Pretty much. Whatever the company declares as the "actual" cost, Bangladesh pays — with very limited ability to verify or challenge the numbers.

Child: But Ma, isn't that risky?

Ma: Yes Shona, It can be risky. Vertical integration – the "they dig it, ship it, rail it, burn it, and still send you the bill" system — isn't illegal, but when one side controls every step and the other must pay every bill, the seller stays safe and the buyer carries the risks.

Child: So it's like letting the shopkeeper weigh the fish, set the price, write the bill, and check his own math?

Ma: Exactly. And then Bangladesh promises to buy the fish for 25 years, no matter what the shopkeeper writes on the bill.

Adani wasn't the only wonder in this wonderland. 

Child: Ma, why did SS Power get two giant plants in one tender?

Ma: Because someone thought "two for one" is a good idea even when it's not a sale.

Child: But isn't SS Power owned by people who plundered banks?

Ma: Oh Baba, they plundered the Islamic banks they themselves controlled – treating depositors' money like a family wallet. And despite that, they won two massive power projects under a single tender, a structure that weakened price discovery and concentrated risk.

Child: So they got public land, public guarantees, and public payments… while owing money to the banks they owned?

Ma: Think of it this way Jaan: it's like borrowing your friend's bicycle, never returning it, and then the government handing you a brand-new motorcycle as a reward.

And the pattern didn't end there. 

Child: Ma, Summit became a power giant. How?

Ma: Long story Shona. They started in the late '90s as one of the most competent new entrants – disciplined, efficient, even admired. But over time, especially after 2008, they grew into a national behemoth through generous contracts and a regulatory climate that treated them like the sector's unofficial crown prince.

Child: And they got more land than they asked for?

Ma: Yes Hon. They made a polite ask, and the system replied like an overexcited host: "Take more, take more!"

Child: Why?

Ma: In our wonderland, giving more than asked is a way of showing loyalty. It's the system's version of a wink: "Don't worry, we've got you."

Child: And the tariff rounding?

Ma: Small is more in this case Baba. The authority nudged the Levelised Tariff Charge upward – a tiny decimal tweak that cast a very long financial shadow.

Child: So they didn't even have to ask for favors?

Ma: That's the saddest part. They didn't need to. The system kept opening doors before they even knocked.

Then came another twist. 

Child: Ma, what about Reliance–JERA? Why did we take a plant that wasn't being used properly in India?

Ma: That story is like a comedy skit no one meant to write.

Child: What happened?

Ma: When Adani was negotiating its deal, Reliance suddenly appeared with its own proposal – almost as if they didn't want to miss out on the party.

Child: So they wanted a cut too?

Ma: Let's just say the timing was… enthusiastic. Their contract was processed in parallel, as if Bangladesh had announced a "Buy One, Get One Power Plant" festival.

Child: But wasn't their plant in India underutilised?

Ma: You bet it was. So they packaged that stranded capacity, tied a ribbon around it, and sold it to Bangladesh under a long-term contract.

Child: And then they sold the ownership to JERA?

Ma: Yes. They passed the parcel. Reliance got the contract, then handed the asset to JERA – like selling a gift you didn't want but still keeping the money from the person who bought it for you.

Child: So Bangladesh pays for a plant that Reliance didn't even keep?

Ma: It's like paying the first guy for a cow he no longer owns, while the second guy sells you the milk.

The surprises didn't stop there.

Child: Ma, what happened in Payra? Why build a coal plant next to a port that can't take big coal ships?

Ma: That's like building a mansion first and discovering later that the driveway only fits rickshaws.

Child: But didn't they know the channel was shallow?

Ma: Of course, they knew. The port needed constant dredging just to stay alive. Big coal ships couldn't come, so they used smaller ones — more trips, more cost, more risk.

Child: So the plant depends on a port that depends on dredging that depends on money that depends on…?

Ma: You know, it's a Russian doll of uncertainty – one problem hiding inside another, and at the very center sits the taxpayer, paying for all of it.

The pattern repeated yet again. 

Child: Ma, and Rupsha? Why build a gas plant without gas?

Ma: Jaan, hard to fathom, no? Well, because someone believed gas would magically appear, like fairies in bedtime stories.

Child: But our gas reserves were already depleting.

Ma: They were. And LNG was already tight. Yet they built an efficient, modern, beautiful plant — but starved of fuel.

Child: So it's like buying a fancy pressure cooker when you don't have rice?

Ma: Worse. It's like buying the pressure cooker on a loan, paying interest, and then discovering the stove doesn't work.

And the wonderland had one final lesson waiting.

Child: Ma, all these stories sound the same. Why do the sponsors always seem to win?

Ma: Because in these stories, the wolf doesn't hunt. He just sends the sheep an invoice for "being available."

Child: Then why did they build all these plants despite knowing the problems?

Ma: My love, that's why they say, "truth is stranger than fiction". Sometimes the grownups in charge forget to ask the simple questions children ask. Sometimes they remember – but ask them too late.

Who won and who paid

The National Review Committee didn't need metaphors to describe what went wrong. Its report showed a system where oversight looked sturdy on paper but melted on contact with power. The system rewarded those with power – of the political and corporate kind – while the people paying for the actual power were left out: the public through higher tariffs, the budget through subsidies, and taxpayers for years to come. When interests align this neatly at the top, rent seeking becomes a joint venture and accountability quietly disappears.