The day Dhaka took back the Ganabhaban
When Sheikh Hasina fled, Dhaka erupted. The Ganabhaban’s gates opened for the first time, revealing opulence, rage, and a day when ordinary citizens walked through history’s front door
5 August, 2024, will forever be remembered as the day Dhaka roared. At 2:30 PM, the news broke—Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina had resigned and fled the country. In moments, disbelief turned into jubilation. Students poured out of campuses, families filled the streets, and the city rang with the sound of unifying chants.
The destination was clear: the most forbidden compound in Bangladesh—the Ganabhaban. By the time I arrived, swept along with thousands of citizens, the gates once guarded by layers of security stood wide open. Victory signs filled the air as people flooded inside, reclaiming what once symbolised untouchable power.
Inside the Ganabhaban: Hidden lives revealed
Stepping inside felt surreal. What had long been cloaked in secrecy now lay bare. Students wandered through marble halls like tourists, phones raised high to capture history. Bedrooms revealed plush silk duvets and imported linens. Kitchens were lined with gleaming appliances—European microwaves, high-end blenders, and fridges stocked with foreign chocolates, cheeses, and even tinned soups.
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A man held up Marks & Spencer socks like trophies. "These don't even sell here!" he laughed, as others rummaged through cupboards and cabinets, marvelling at the lifestyle hidden within these walls.
A hall of diplomatic gifts
One room resembled a museum of international diplomacy: scarves from French President Emmanuel Macron, golden mementos from Beijing, a British teacup gifted by Alok Sharma. Some citizens posed proudly for selfies with these gifts, while others smashed them in fury.
Even Hasina's private library felt frozen in time, stacked with expensive volumes, UN reports, travel magazines, and rare artefacts. The walls displayed Radha-Krishna art, old photos of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, and even a childhood picture of Hasina lying in the garden grass—its frame cracked and abandoned.
From the kitchen to the garden
The kitchen revealed its own curiosities: imported cereals, chocolate bars, foreign dairy products—all now emptied out into triumphant hands. Outside, the vast garden brimmed with laughter. Young men climbed trees waving flags, while others splashed into the lake as if celebrating Eid. Fiberglass chairs and wooden swings became props for selfies.
"We knew they lived well—but not this well"
Loot followed laughter. Sarees, sofas, ducks, goats—even frozen fish—were hauled away. One man wheeled out a recliner like spoils of victory. "We knew they lived well," said a protester clutching a velvet cushion, "but not this well."
Rage etched in the walls
Anger, too, left its mark. Protesters scrawled slogans on the walls, snapped selfies on Hasina's bed, and tore through the compound. "This mansion was built with our money," one shouted. "We are reclaiming it."
By nightfall, the Ganabhaban stood hollow—its grandeur stripped away, its aura gone. What was once a fortress of power had become a monument of defiance, reclaimed by the people who had always lived in its shadow.
