Room 1014, a gonoroom in Shahid Sergeant Zohurul Huq Hall of Dhaka University, was officially allocated for six students, yet nearly 32 new students from different parts of the country, including remote areas, were crammed into it one winter under Awami League rule. The overcrowded room, barely livable, became a 'human heater' as the freshers huddled together. In such limited space, two students shared a single mattress as ordered by the Boro Bhai, with defiance leading to serious consequences.
Mattresses were arranged in two rows, leaving only narrow gaps for residents to navigate without stepping on others. From the door to the windows, ropes were strung overhead to hang clothes and secure mosquito nets, giving visitors the impression that these students from the country's top university might be prisoners facing punishment.
Though they weren’t being punished, they were tested daily by senior "Big Bhais" to assess their loyalty and obedience. Those who proved fully compliant were eventually rewarded with a proper bed and desk after a year.
In such proximity, the freshers quickly became familiar with each other, enduring the awkwardness of sharing a bed at night. Their patience wore thin, but each new resident added to the room was accommodated despite cries for space. The senior Bhais were under orders from their leaders: the more freshers packed into a room, the greater their political influence and the higher their prospects for a post within the Chhatra League.
In summer, one resident contracted a digestive illness that spread to others, likely due to the difficulty in maintaining basic hygiene. When an illness broke out in one of these rooms, recovery was rare. Yet, to secure better accommodation, the students continued attending Chhatra League programs, chanting slogans like "Ekta ekta Shibir dhor, dhoira dhoira jobai kor" and "Zohur Hall er maati Chaatra League er ghati," clapping in unison. They sometimes stood for hours in the sun, even skipping classes—not out of political ambition but for the promise of a bed in the hall where they were entitled to stay. Programs stretched to 2-3 hours; on unlucky days, they attended two or three sessions.
The loyalty test extended beyond daily activities. Most nights, they were summoned to the hall’s guest room, where the Bhais waited. Those who missed programs or broke rules faced scolding and insults. Sometimes they weren’t allowed to return to sleep but were sent out on errands for the senior Bhais.
This was a common scene in most of the male students' gonorooms at Dhaka University. Financially stable students often opted for private housing in Katabon, Azimpur, Chankharpool, or Lalbagh, but it was costly. Students from rural areas faced a stark economic gap between campus living and nearby residential neighborhoods, making it unaffordable for most. The majority, from financially constrained families, had no choice but to live in the halls, though some found compliance with the ruling party's student organization degrading.
What happened to dissenters who defied the Chhatra League?
One winter night, Tahmid Sakib, a fresher in the Surja Sen Hall gonoroom, walked along Mal Chattar road, carrying a backpack with clothes, soap, and shampoo, anxiously scrolling his phone for a friend who might let him sleep in his room. Tahmid stayed in a gonoroom freshers dubbed Laden Guha, a former canteen kitchen without windows, requiring lights even during the day.
The narrow, tunnel-like passage to the room was scattered with old reading tables used at night, and the room, lacking a door, was curtained off for privacy. Inside, there was disorder: dirty mattresses, crumpled bed sheets, and clothes in chaotic piles.
Tahmid described how isolating it was to resist the hall’s demands. “I couldn’t make any friends in the hall. My life was cut off from them because I avoided the Chhatra League programs and didn’t attend guest room meetings. My roommates were questioned and insulted for not bringing me along, and eventually, they started to resent me.”
He continued: “I would sneak into the room at 3 a.m. so my roommates wouldn’t see me and question me, and I’d leave by 8 a.m. before they woke up. They thought I barely lived there, but I was there every night.”
Tahmid carried a backpack with essentials, quietly entered the dorm to bathe, then spent most of his days at the library. Months later, he returned one night to find his belongings thrown out for not attending Chhatra League events, despite repeated warnings from the Boro Bhais.
“The system seemed rotten to me,” he said. “I still slept in the gonoroom, using other people’s mattresses—I had no other option.”
Tahmid went on to work in journalism, a career that partially alleviated his struggles from those dormitory days.
Returning to room 1014
Muhiuddin Iqbal, a debater, researcher, and history student, recounted his experience. Initially hoping for an academic career, he moved into 1014 after financial strain forced him to leave a mess in Farmgate. The gonoroom’s cramped lifestyle led him to “mental disorientation.” He lost his academic ambitions and suffered trauma.
“To endure the Boro Bhais berating me in guestroom meetings, I imagined them as clowns,” he said. “The biggest issue wasn’t the insults, but that I was allocated a hall seat by merit, yet I was ordered to endure nightly insults in guest room meetings. The time they took from me felt like a theft of my university experience.”
Over the years, Iqbal had lost any sense of home or certainty of where he’d sleep each night. “Sleeping became an elusive pleasure,” he explained. “I’ve lived in crowded places before, like the Hefzkhana, but at least there I had a designated place to sleep.”
He described how, without any stability, he’d sometimes see street children sleeping in parks and feel they had a better life than his—at least they knew where they’d sleep. “Most nights, I’d plan to stay awake, as it was easier to sleep in the gonoroom during the day when others were at class.”
Having been evicted multiple times for skipping Chhatra League programs, Iqbal was once thrown out for attending his sister’s wedding. His roommates blocked his return. “In the gonoroom structure, attending Chhatra League programs is the equalizer,” he said. “Even if we meet all admission criteria, only those who attend programs are treated as equals.”
A legacy of activism, a decline in coexistence
Dhaka University, historically a cradle of political activism, has nurtured leaders who contributed to Bangladesh’s major political shifts. Yet recent years had seen this political diversity stifled by the Awami League’s student wing. Only left-wing organizations found minor space in halls like Jagannath and Fazlul Huq. Those who showcased alternative political affiliations faced threats, often forced to live off campus.
Both Tahmid Sakib and Muhiuddin Iqbal view political awareness and participation as essential. They wanted to express their own ideologies but found it nearly impossible in a dormitory environment dominated by the ruling party's student organization. Although leftist organizations had some leeway, many students endured suspicion and harassment, stigmatized with labels like the Chhatra Shibir tag.
