Exactly two years after a sea of protesters breached the high walls of the Ganabhaban, the former official residence of the prime minister has been reimagined as a site of public memory.
On 5 August 2026, the July Mass Uprising Memorial Museum was formally inaugurated in Sher-e-Bangla Nagar, marking the transformation of a once-fortified seat of power into what its mission statement defines as a “global institution dedicated to the preservation of national history”.
The museum, documenting a journey described as moving from oppression to liberation, now stands as a permanent archive of the 36 days of bravery that reshaped the nation in the summer of 2024.
The ceremony was a measured affair, beginning with the unveiling of a plaque by Prime Minister Tarique Rahman, who was accompanied by his daughter, Barrister Zaima Rahman. The inauguration was attended by pivotal figures of the post-uprising era, including Professor Muhammad Yunus, the former Chief Adviser of the Interim Government, and several cabinet ministers.
Prime Minister Rahman toured the galleries, which house a vast collection of preserved artefacts, official documents, and video footage intended to preserve the authentic history of the July Mass Uprising and honour the sacrifices of the martyrs and the July fighters.
The architecture of resistance
The museum’s design philosophy prioritises the preservation of the site’s original state of upheaval. In a striking architectural choice, visitors do not walk on the original floors of the residence but on glass panels installed over the remnants of the struggle.
Beneath the glass floor, illuminated by integrated lighting, lie the literal shards of the revolution: broken glass, debris, and burnt wood left from the day the public entered the premises.
This commitment to internal preservation extends to the walls and furniture. The original boundary walls that were breached by the public remain intact, showing the exact points of entry, with new walls constructed around them to ensure the structural integrity of the broken sections.
Inside, display cases, cabinets, and cupboards that were damaged or tilted during the uprising have been kept in their compromised states, though the personal effects within have been carefully arranged for public view.
Outside, the landscape has been significantly altered to accommodate the scale of the memorial. The grounds now feature five new walkways, a three-sided expanded lake, and a ‘July Stage’ located on the site of the former helipad.
A symbolic Aynaghar — a secret prison — has been recreated through 22 symbolic cells, representing the sites where victims of state repression were held. The exterior also includes a mass grave memorial featuring nameplates for the martyrs and over 2,500 dummy graves, a process that officials describe as ongoing.
A repository of sacrifice
The core of the museum’s emotional weight lies in the personal effects of the more than 1,400 martyrs and the records of over 12,000 “Injured Warriors”. In the galleries, glass closets hold the mundane belongings that have become historical markers: books, wristwatches, and articles of clothing.
Specific installations provide a visceral connection to the street-level reality of July 2024.
The actual rickshaw used to carry a student named Nafiz after he was shot is on display. A showcase once belonging to the former prime minister now contains everyday items belonging to Wasim Akrum. A mural of a blue school dress hangs on the wall, a silent and haunting testimony to the innocence of the generation that led the resistance. Elsewhere, a massive mural of Abrar Fahad stands tall.
Salahuddin Ahmed Raihan, a columnist and political analyst who attended the opening, reflected on the depth of these exhibits.
“The most emotional moment for me was seeing the mother of Shaheed Rahim crying beside her son’s flute and other belongings,” he said. “I was also deeply touched by the preserved rickshaw in which a rickshaw-puller had tried to save an injured boy. The video of Mugdho asking, ‘Does anyone need water?’ was extremely moving. I also felt great pain seeing the photograph of the young daughter of Shaheed Ilias Ali in the prime minister’s arms.”
The media of memory
Technology plays a central role in documenting the 16 years of what the museum classifies as “fascism and mafia rule”, leading up to the uprising. The museum has curated 62 documentaries across 19 different themes. A “Monsoon Theatre” has been established to screen these films, which include footage of the previous government’s crackdown on dissent.
“Politicians should especially visit it so that they never become autocratic, oppress people, engage in corruption or allow enforced disappearances and killings. The museum can provide them with an important moral lesson.”
One of the most notable interactive elements is a red telephone, which has become a primary attraction. When used by visitors, the device plays digital recordings of former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s voice and various phone conversations from different periods.
Screens throughout the building play clips from international news organisations, Netra News, and footage of the events of 5 August 2024, depicting the departure of the former leader and the subsequent entry of protesters into Ganabhaban.
The archives also include letters written by martyrs, newspaper cuttings — including reports of over 5,500 people being held in one week — and a red circular mural containing photographs of the movement’s most pivotal moments.
A plaque on the grounds provides a stark poetic framing for the site: “The tyrant’s throne, once fed by the patriots’ blood, now vanquished by martyrs, once the bloodthirsty’s abode.”
Voices from the gates
While the inauguration day was reserved for invited guests, July fighters, families of the martyrs, and a sizeable crowd gathered outside the gates in Sher-e-Bangla Nagar.
Among them was Mohammad Nur, a resident of Savar who was blinded in one eye by gunfire during the uprising.
“I was injured in the July Uprising — I lost my eye after being shot,” he explained while waiting outside. “Since this is the July Memorial Museum, it holds the memories of July. Although those memories are already vivid before my eyes, mixed with my own blood, in a way. I don’t need to see them again myself — I wanted to bring my whole family so they could see it, so everyone could feel that joy. That’s really all it was. Actually, joy comes even alongside sorrow — that’s how it goes.”
For Nur, the significance of the date transcends the opening of a building. “For instance, today, 5 August, or 36 July, this day is supposed to represent independence,” he said. “We consider today another Independence Day, whether anybody accepts it or not.”
Lessons for future tyrant aspirants
The museum’s historical narrative begins well before the 36 days of July 2024, incorporating the BDR mutiny, the 2013 events at Shapla Chattar, and the records of nearly 4,000 people who were victims of enforced disappearances and killings over the previous 17 years.
A plaque inside the museum details the case of Ekramul Huq, a councillor from Teknaf who was “shot dead on Marine Drive by a team of RAB-7” in 2018 during a recorded phone call with his family.
Moving forward, the museum plans to function as more than a gallery. It will host guided tours, educational programmes, and research activities designed to help visitors and researchers understand the complexities of the movement. As it begins its public life, the museum stands as a permanent fixture in the capital, fulfilling its mandate to ensure the “spirit of July”—defined by the protection of democracy, human rights, and freedom of expression—is passed on to future generations.
Salahuddin Ahmed Raihan said that the museum represents the “collective participation” of the people — from day labourers to educated professionals — in the struggle against autocracy. “I believe the museum genuinely represents the spirit and aspirations of the July Uprising,” he stated.
“Politicians should especially visit it so that they never become autocratic, oppress people, engage in corruption or allow enforced disappearances and killings. The museum can provide them with an important moral lesson.”
The July Mass Uprising Memorial Museum will open to the general public tomorrow. An online ticketing system has been established at july36.gov.bd, with entry fees set at Tk50 for adults and Tk25 for children. The institution is situated in Sher-e-Bangla Nagar and will remain closed on Thursdays and government holidays.
