I was going to start this update with a big moan about GMG airlines who I was in the most unfortunate position of flying with, or should I say in the end didn’t end up flying with, as they were not given permission to land in Dhaka to take passengers to Bangkok, but more pressing events over the last few days pales that whole experience into insignificance.
In an attempt to escape from the crazy frenzy of Eid shopping I decided to take myself off to Thailand and hibernate at a yoga retreat for a week. I arrived back in Dhaka last Friday and on leaving the airport I heard that the Prime Minister has stepped down from office and Dhaka was burning. I managed to get back to my flat safely but nearby a public bus lay burning and abandoned outside Ramna Police station.
An aunt of mine who was suppposed to be staying with me that night called to say that there was heavy rioting in her area and that her driver was refusing to take her anywhere.
My father who had came out to see me a couple of weeks ago had gone to his village for Eid and was supposed to be at home that evening. I came back to an empty flat and frantic phone calls from my Mother who was beside herself with worry after watching the news and not getting through to him on his mobile all day. The neighbours knocked on the door to tell me that my Dad had come back, forgotton his keys and so left his luggage with them.
At 11pm still no sign of him and then a relative called to ask if I had heard from him as he had called her at 8.30pm to say that he was on his way to Mirpur. She was panicking as Mirpur was particularly volatile and she was concerned that he would get caught up in the violence and riots.

That started a chain of events that lasted till midday the next day when he finally called to say that he was fine. That night I called everyone I knew looking for him and when noone had heard from him, my friend started calling hotels then at 1.30am we went out to look for him in the public hospitals. Never having gone into a state run hospital before the scene was petrifying. Those patients found in the streets- “the unknowns” lay languishing on the floor bleeding, urinating and dying. Those more fortunate with family or friends lay two or three on dirty broken bed. No doctors or nurses from I could see. The smell was horrendous. Even if my father had been found the chances of him surviving till the next morning were slim if he was seriously hurt. I called the British High Commission to notify them that he was missing and also informed a relative who was a retired Police Inspector General so he could try and use any influence he had with the police. My relative was quite pesamistic saying that the police would probably do nothing. The Consular section at the High Commission relentlessly persued the police angle assuring me that the police had to give priority to this as my father was a British citizen but when I went to the Police Station to file the missing person’s report what was most disturbing was the fact that they didn’t ask for any photos and the extent of their search was looking through their list of detainees. In a country where they was no active government and no law and order, the priorities of the police certainly didn’t include a missing UK national. By 10am when he still wasn’t back the worst was feared and a search of the city’s morgues commenced.
By Allah’s grace he came back to me safe and alive. What actually happened I don’t know. He claims that he was on his way to Baitul Mokarum to do some food shopping and decided to stay in a hotel for the night thinking I had missed my flight. The worst of the riots had been in that area where a ‘144′ had been declared. In the 40 years my father has been visiting Dhaka since he left Bangladesh he has never stayed in a hotel particulary when my relatives live nearby and for him not to call anyone is unprecedented. Everyone I have spoken to here susects that he was highkacked and kept for the night. Unfortunately he will not say and never will say what happened to him that night.
This experience has put an entirely new complexion on living in Dhaka. I had always heard about this happening to other people but never expected it to happen to me or someone in my family. All I can do is pray that my friends and family stay safe and for noone else to ever go through this awful experience.