But he didn't burn the papers. Instead, he made three photocopies. One he sent to a journalist at Prothom Alo under a pseudonym. One he buried inside a false-bottomed drawer at his aunt's house in the village. And one he kept on his person—folded into a plastic sleeve, sewn into the lining of his jacket.
Farhad still carries his copy. Not as a weapon. As a witness. enemy property list of bangladesh 2012
The year was 2012, and the heat in Dhaka was not just in the air—it was in the dust-choked corridors of the Ministry of Law, Justice and Parliamentary Affairs. Inside a cramped, steel-cabinet-lined room, a young legal associate named Farhad Uddin sat cross-legged on a torn rug, surrounded by folios that smelled of mildew and mothballs. But he didn't burn the papers
The 2012 list wasn't a relic of war. It was a live inventory of corruption. Properties stolen from Hindu minorities had been quietly redistributed to party loyalists, military officers, and businessmen with the right connections. The Vested Property Committees—chaired by local MPs—had turned into auction houses for injustice. One he buried inside a false-bottomed drawer at
Years later, in 2019, a landmark case reached the High Court: Human Rights and Peace for Bangladesh vs. Government of Bangladesh . The petitioners submitted the 2012 list as evidence. The court ruled that the term "enemy property" was unconstitutional—all vested properties must be reviewed, and restitution must begin.
Farhad knew that if this list went public, it would trigger riots. The minority Hindu population, just 8% of Bangladesh, would see in black and white what they had long whispered: the state had institutionalized theft. And the majority Muslim populace would see how their own leaders had profited from it.
Column one: . Column two: Mouza (village) . Column three: Original Owner . Column four: Current Custodian (Govt. Body) . Column five: Status .