Its a day to remember those who made the supreme sacrifice and, if you are religious, to pray for their departed souls. Its a day to dream, like the martyrs did, about the possibilities of the future.

I am remembering and also dreaming. I am dreaming that two people in particular need to make enormous personal sacrifices and physically depart from Bangladesh. Who are they you ask? I can’t quite make them out but I think its Khaleda and her son Tareq I am dreaming about. In my dream, I am feverishly petitoning Patricia Butenis to do what Uncle Sam has done for many a corrupt head of state - whisk them away to a safe haven somewhere.

“Beauty apa,” I am calling out, “please offer them whatever loot they have stashed away but for heaven’s sake get them out of the country. Do this for Bangladesh. Kissinger ushered them in. Now you, Butenis, take them away.”

I am also dreaming of a big house in the middle of dhaka somehwere. I am dreaming that a hijab clad woman is made to see sense and go and live there and not venture out ever again. In my dream she leaves politics and retires to her architecturally interesting house (where did the money come from to build such an excrescence?). I am dreaming that if she refuses, the caretaker administration bars her from taking office. That they lay at her feet the responsibility for the nightmarish violence she used to unleash wihout the slightest care about fatalities and injuries.

I am also dreaming of another departure. However you will agree that this one is even more outlandish than the two above. My dream is for the massive ego of a certain high interest charging banker professor to fly away, and allow him to begin to attempt to change the mould of Bangladeshi politics.