Memories of vote: How it feels returning to the ballot

On a February evening in Dhaka, Neza Mahmud, a young, promising lawyer, is planning a journey she once thought she might never make again. The journey is not to a vacation where physical presence is needed, but to something more: ideological, mental, and a way of self-expression. It is about voting in the election on February 12. Now working as an associate lawyer at a law firm after completing her higher education, Neza still remembers her first voting experience in 2020 with discomfort.

During the last mayoral election in Manikganj municipality, she entered the polling booth only to find that the electronic voting machine displayed a single symbol, the then ruling party's boat, despite the presence of several other candidates in her constituency at the time. "That day stayed with me," she says. "I felt invisible as a voter."

Disappointed by that bitter experience, Neza chose not to vote in the 2024 national election. But this year she feels different. If work permits, she plans to leave Dhaka on the evening of February 10 and return to her hometown, Manikganj, where she is registered to vote in the Manikganj-3 constituency. 

Voting, this time, will be a family affair. Parents, siblings, cousins, uncles, and aunts walking together to the polling centre. For Neza and her cousins, many of whom will be voting for the first time, election day feels less like a civic duty and more like a festival. 

"There's an excitement similar to Eid", she says. "After voting, we'll probably meet friends, sit together, and talk about where the country should go next." 

A generation shaped by the absence of democracy, Neza's experiences reflect across a generation of Bangladeshi voters who grew up amid contested elections and shrinking trust in democratic processes. 

Sharmin Islam, a homemaker, last voted in 2008. In the 2014 national election, she went to her polling station only to be told her vote had already been cast. "After that, every election felt the same," she recalls. "So I stopped going."

This time, however, she feels a cautious pull back to the polls. The election comes with an unusual bonus: an extended public holiday. With February 11 declared a general holiday ahead of polling day on February 12—followed by the regular Friday and Saturday weekend—Bangladesh is set for four consecutive days off. For Sharmin, that break is as much emotional as logistical. "It means family time," she says. "Old friends, relatives, and after so many years, my vote."

Among university students, anticipation is layered with reflection. Tahmid Riyan, Toufiq Siam and Musa Kazem Nuhas—all private university students—became eligible voters before the 2024 election but chose not to participate.

"At that time, it felt like a fascist period," one of them says. "Whether you voted or not, the outcome felt decided."

Now, they speak of voting not only as a right, but as a reclaiming of voice. Plans are already forming: voting together, meeting old friends during the long break, and turning election day into a small reunion. Yet their enthusiasm is tempered with deliberation. 

For many first-time voters, hope is accompanied by vigilance. Sumaiya Shahnaz Orpa, a voter from Dhaka-9, will cast her first ballot in this election. Though she has quietly chosen her preferred candidate, she is paying close attention to the political climate leading up to the vote and what may follow. "I will go with my mother," she says. "But voting day isn't the only thing that matters. What happens after is just as important."

Like many young voters, she frames her expectations through the lens of recent history. "For a long time, governance felt authoritarian," she explains. "That phase has ended.

Now we have a responsibility to make sure nothing replaces it."
The generation is no longer content with casting a vote and leaving; they want accountability before and after election day.

Voting in Bangladesh has long been more than a political exercise. It has multiple layers from tensions to fun, debating in food stalls near polling centres, conversations over tea, everything gives that vibe. 

That atmosphere dimmed after three national elections widely questioned. But signs of revival are visible. In many constituencies, multiple candidates are actively campaigning, and voter discussions—particularly among youth are once again animated.

Bangladesh's electorate is not naive. Memories of disenfranchisement remain fresh, especially among those casting their first or second vote. 

For Neza Mahmud, the upcoming vote is not about erasing the past, but confronting it. "I'm not expecting perfection," she says. "I just want my vote to exist." That sentiment, simple yet profound, captures the quiet recalibration underway among Bangladeshi youth voters. Voting is returning not as a spectacle, but as a shared test of trust between citizens and the state.