The walls of Dhaka began to speak as a mass uprising simmered beneath the surface. By July, under the harsh summer heat, murals of clenched fists, bleeding flags, and fierce, unyielding faces transformed public spaces into canvases of defiance.

Each stroke rejected the suffocating silence that had gripped Bangladesh for years. Sheikh Hasina, once shielded by censorship and self-censorship, found her image plastered on the capital's walls, subjected to condemnation that seemed unthinkable just days earlier.

Beautifying and adding an authentic dimension to the emotions of the masses, the new murals stood as symbols of rebellion parallel to billboards and statues imposed by the former regime. Beyond their creativity, they depicted a collective yearning of the youth to be heard and respected. This was a declaration that the status quo would no longer be accepted.

On July 25, as protests reached a crescendo and the government teetered on the brink of collapse, the arrest of rapper Hannan ignited a cultural flashpoint. Hannan's searing track "Awaaz Utha" became the anthem of dissent, echoing through rallies.

His detention was not only an act of state repression but also a warning to all who dared to challenge authority—whether through chants in the streets or lyrics in the studio. Yet, instead of silencing dissent, his arrest fanned the flames.

Many artistes who had long remained muted under a cloud of fear found their voices. The hashtag #FreeHannan dominated social media, while calls for justice and unity surged. What the previous regime intended as a deterrent became a rallying cry for a country trying to reclaim its voice. A people, largely apolitical for years under the heavy hand of the state, coalesced around a set of logical demands: stop the killings, deliver justice, and restore freedom.

Raef Al Hasan Rafa, a pioneer in Bangladesh's rock music scene, did not sit on the sidelines either. As a founding member of AvoidRafa and former drummer for iconic bands Aurthohin and Cryptic Fate, Rafa had already cemented his legacy. For the generation born in the 1990s, his music is a soundtrack to their coming of age.

By publicly condemning Hannan's detention and lending his voice to the protests, Rafa injected new urgency into the movement, perhaps inspiring his industry peers to do the same. His call to action went beyond political commentary: it was a declaration of identity and a demand for artistes to be allowed to engage in creative expression without fear of state reprisal.

Read more

Muslims in media, and media in Muslim-majority Bangladesh

The movement was not confined to Bangladesh. In Toronto, New York, London, and other diaspora hubs, expats mobilised in solidarity. What stood out was not just the scale of the global response but who participated. Many had long distanced themselves from Bangladeshi politics, viewing it as a complex relic of a life left behind. Now, even the disengaged were drawn in.

Artistes like Muza, the American-Bangladeshi singer-producer known for hits like "Bondhurey" and "Jhumka," and Sanjoy Deb, another American-Bangladeshi music producer celebrated for electronic music tracks such as "Arale Harale" and a host of collaborations with foreign artistes, became de facto cultural ambassadors for change. Their social media platforms, even though a simple post or story, turned into megaphones for the movement by linking a restless homeland with a galvanised diaspora.

By the time Hasina's government was toppled on August 5, the landscape had already shifted. The old certainties had crumbled. The youth were now in the driver's seat. In the wake of this upheaval, a new cultural narrative began to emerge.

Now it has found potent expression in an unlikely venue: the Bangladesh Premier League (BPL). The BPL, often dismissed as a poorly designed spectacle with an unfortunate track record on many fronts, is being re-imagined as a stage to tell the story of a new Bangladesh—or at least the vision for it.

Even Chief Adviser Dr Muhammad Yunus seems to have a vested interest in making the upcoming season a success, penning a few lines of the BPL anthem himself. The anthem "Esho Desh Bodlai" serves as a centrepiece for a movement that entered the consciousness of a population yearning to rewrite its script for how things should be done in their country.

A new formula for governing the relationship between the state and its people—a new social contract—is needed. The general idea is that younger voices should take up the mantle of the future. A collaboration among Hannan, Rafa, Muza, Sanjoy, and other artistes, the anthem serves as a manifesto calling for progress and an appeal for a better Bangladesh. Its lyrics implore people to change the world and to change Bangladesh—utopian on the surface and perhaps a naïve expression of a future not yet clearly defined, but one surely centred around hope.

Reform is the call of the hour, and the song ties the energy of youth to that call. Each artiste brings their own perspective to the anthem. Rafa describes it as a tribute to the resilience of a nation finding strength in unity during a very difficult time. He noted that the music video, featuring students who were on the streets in July and August, deliberately connected the song to the movement that shook the country.

Muza frames the anthem as a celebration of freedom, cultural pride and, echoing Rafa, the power of unity, drawing parallels between the energy of the protests and the camaraderie of cricket. He is spot on. Sanjoy points to the anthem's fusion of various musical genres, a reflection of the idea that Bangladeshis are a durable nation not in spite of its many differences, but because of them.

Hannan, who stood on the front lines of the protests, views it as a bridge between the fervour of the streets and the passion found at stadiums. Cricket has long been an avenue to tell the story of countries beyond what is marketed on the political front. The theme song of a major tournament like the BPL can serve as a fitting foundation to kickstart a celebration of a movement that freed Bangladesh from authoritarianism.

The anthem's visuals are as powerful as its words. The music video meshes scenes of cricketing glory from past BPL seasons with images of resilience. It paints a storyline for viewers at home and abroad of a nation shifting gears because change is what Bangladesh is experiencing—or at least trying to.

It, of course, pays homage to those who sacrificed their lives during the protests. Cricket garners attention as a soft power tool for foreign audiences, though Bangladesh still has much to do for it to become a true asset. Keeping that caveat in mind, the BPL does indeed have an opportunity to tell the tale of the uprising better than other, more formal avenues.

Read more

The risks of turning symbols into battlegrounds

Unlike previous iterations, which leaned heavily on nostalgia tied to a day and age that many youth may not have related to, the upcoming BPL should be rooted firmly in the present. The anthem is raw, contemporary, and unapologetically modern, reflecting the values of a youth that has found its voice and is ready to lead. It does not denounce or forget the cultural heritage Bangladeshis pride themselves on. Instead, it tells a story of evolution.

Bangladesh is in transition. Things may look unstable right now, and they are, but that is natural, and challenges will persist. But this moment—through its music, art, and unyielding youth—represents the dawn of something better. The anthem, like the murals, is a testament to the spirit of a people who dared to dream of change when all decks were stacked against them. Bangladeshis must not lose hope. In the small, defiant acts of creativity, the seeds of a brighter future are already taking shape.

Mir Aftabuddin Ahmed is a public policy columnist. He can be reached at mir.ahmed@mail.mcgill.ca. Views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not reflect those of any organisation, institution, or entity with which he is associated.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own.

Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries and analyses by experts and professionals. To contribute your article or letter to The Daily Star Opinion, see our guidelines for submission.