In every corner of the capital’s homes, over cups of tea, or at busy bus stops, one single question echoes everywhere: where is the government? There is no gas, load-shedding is relentless, and setting foot on the streets costs hours of valuable life. Yet, those in the corridors of power seem to feel no remorse; they remain absorbed in the math of power dynamics and political bargaining. Today, there is a severe bankruptcy of both time and conscience to witness the suffering of working-class and middle-class people.

A minor technical glitch at the floating LNG terminal in Maheshkhali casts a shadow of darkness over the entire country, making gas disappear instantly. Does this mean the nation’s energy security is hanging by a thin thread? Year after year, the same old excuses come from the government. No one had the foresight or goodwill to build an alternative infrastructure. In this modern era of 2026, city dwellers are forced to cook over firewood amid smoke and ashes—what could be more shameful for a civilized nation? Due to the gas crisis, long queues of vehicles begin forming at CNG filling stations from midnight or 4:00 AM. Drivers stand in line for hours—sometimes up to six hours—just to get gas worth 179 BDT. After driving for a short distance, they must return to that very queue. A driver's entire day is spent searching for gas. At the end of the day, they lack enough earnings to buy basic groceries like rice and lentils, while unpaid car installments keep piling up. Household poverty and the burden of debt haunt them, while the government offers nothing but empty assurances: "Please wait." But hunger and creditors do not understand waiting.

The electricity situation has also turned into a nightmare. In the scorching heat of the summer month of Baishakh, as the night deepens, the extent of darkness expands. From a young child’s study table to the room of an ill, elderly parent, the agony of load-shedding is omnipresent. DPDC and DESCO together are reconciling calculations of hundreds of megawatts in deficits, warning that the shortfall will become even more severe as the night progresses. Yet, before coming to power, so many fairy tales were told, and a barrage of false promises for a bright future was spread! All those political rants and slogans are now lost in the depths of darkness.

The agony of the streets is no less severe. A little rain leads to waterlogging with mud and filthy water, compounded by road blockades in the name of political rallies or religious gatherings, which seem to be a daily routine. Stages are set up right on the main roads of Jatrabari, Dayaganj, or Kuril Bishwa Road, holding thousands of people captive for hours. The administration acts as a mere spectator, while traffic police helplessly brush off responsibility by saying, "We will submit a report." But will this government report bring gas? Will it light up homes? Or will it ease this suffocating traffic congestion on the roads?

Turning back the pages of history brings back that familiar nightmare of 2001 to 2006 right before our eyes. During that era of the BNP-Jamaat coalition government, people were suffocated by the plunder of Hawa Bhaban, severe energy crises, and constant public suffering at every step. Even in 2026, today’s Bangladesh stands face-to-face with that same cruel reality. Wherever one stands to voice sorrow, that space is closed off today; because in this administrative chaos, there is no accountability, nor is there anyone to take responsibility.

Citizens regularly pay taxes from their hard-earned income and clear their utility bills. In return, receiving basic public services from the state is their birthright. But today, far from basic services, the minimum means of survival—cooking gas, nighttime electricity, and basic human rights like normal movement on the streets—have been taken hostage. Amidst this overall decay, the government's silence and indifference double the pain and anger of the people every single day.

Nasrin Akter of Shantinagar was forced to buy an electric stove due to the lack of gas, but owing to load-shedding, it now sits as a useless piece of furniture in a corner of her house. Arifa Akter of Badda cooks today in a modern apartment with eyes tearing up from firewood smoke, while Mithi Chowdhury’s whole family in Banasree relies on stale, spoiled hotel food daily. Does the sound of crying from thousands of Nasrins, Arifas, and Mithis reach the high walls of power? Even if it does, do they care to listen amidst the noise, or will they remain forever blinded by the obsession with power-sharing?

Outside the capital, the scenario across the country is even more tragic. Village after village remains submerged in darkness for hours every day. Lacking electricity, small cottage industries and factories are on the verge of closing permanently, and due to an inability to irrigate fields, farmers' dream crops are burning to ashes under the sun. Yet, despite all this, those in authority shamelessly announce, "The situation is under control." The nation wants to know: under whose control is the situation? The public witnesses a picture of destruction every day, spiraling out of control and sinking into an even deeper darkness.

Author: Dr. Abul Hasnat Milton, Journalist, Political Analyst, and Editor-in-Chief, The Source News Bangla