Zia: The Reluctant President
30 August 2025 History did not present Ziaur Rahman as a schemer clawing for power. It confronted him with voids — moments when the nation’s tongue was frozen, when silence or paralysis threatened to suffocate the people. Each time, something clicked in him. He didn’t chase power; he stepped forward because no one else would. Part I – The Prodigal Soldier Before he declared a nation, he waited for his tongue to melt free. This isn’t a historian’s fable — it’s my family’s story. His partner in mischief that day was my Aunt Selima Prodhan, known in the family as Jhuti. One winter in Calcutta, the boy we knew as Komol — Ziaur Rahman to history — was rummaging for sweets in the icebox. In his impatience, he pressed his tongue against the frozen tray, and it stuck fast. The children shrieked. Jhuti laughed in half-panic, half-delight. Komol cried out once, then fell silent. His tongue was locked in cold iron agony. A lesser boy would have thrashed and torn himself bloody. Komol ...