Rokan's Journal

Maj Gen HRM Rokan Uddin (Retd.)

Bangladesh is a land of harmony with a history stretching back centuries. The story of this land is not merely the separate history of Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, or Christians; rather, it is a unique history of coexistence, mutual respect, and cultural integration. For generations, the people of Bengal have lived peacefully together despite their different religious identities, sharing the same soil, the same rivers, the same culture, and the same social realities. The history of communal harmony in Bangladesh is far older and far stronger than the noise and controversies of the present day. Across the country are scattered silent testimonies to this tradition-living examples of coexistence that predate the modern state itself. These stories deserve to be known by all.

In Gendaria, Old Dhaka, on Swamibagh Road, stands the Sri Sri Radha Govinda Temple, popularly known as the Swamibagh ISKCON Temple. Directly opposite it stands the nearly 350-year-old Swamibagh Jame Mosque. For generations, worshippers of both faiths have walked along the same narrow street to their respective places of worship without obstructing or threatening one another. In Kalibari, Lalmonirhat, the Puran Bazar Jame Mosque and the Kalibari Temple have stood face to face within the same courtyard for more than a century, each carrying out its religious practices undisturbed by the other’s presence. In Bhuyai Bazar, under Jaifarnagar Union in Juri, Moulvibazar, Muslims and Hindus have been practicing their faiths side by side in the same mosque-temple compound for the past forty-four years. In Nagarpur, Tangail, a mosque and a temple have been operating within the same courtyard for sixty-three years. In Yusufganj, Sonargaon, Narayanganj, a mosque and a temple have shared the same premises for one hundred and fifty years, symbolizing not only religious coexistence but also social harmony. In Mithapukur, Rangpur, Hindus and Muslims enter through the same gate-one heading toward the temple and the other toward the mosque. The Ramna Kali Temple area in Dhaka and numerous similar examples across the country continue to stand as silent witnesses to Bangladesh’s enduring tradition of communal harmony. These are not isolated curiosities. They are evidence of an unwritten social contract not recorded in legal texts but embedded in the everyday habits and practices of ordinary people. It is a social understanding that has survived political upheavals, colonial transformations, the Liberation War, and decades of governments of varying ideological orientations.

This historical reality must be considered alongside contemporary debates, because present-day narratives are often presented without context. Religious minorities, who constitute approximately 8.86 percent of Bangladesh’s population, enjoy a range of state-supported facilities that many would find difficult to locate elsewhere in the world. Janmashtami, Durga Puja, Buddha Purnima, and Christmas are all recognized as national holidays. In addition, followers of all faiths are entitled to up to three days of optional leave annually to observe their respective religious festivals according to their own religious calendars. During periods of crisis, members of the Muslim majority have often stood shoulder to shoulder with minority communities to ensure their protection and security. The state allocates approximately 50 million takas annually from the national treasury for Durga Puja celebrations, distributed among nearly 32,000 temples across the country. The Hindu Religious Welfare Trust receives more than 1.4 billion takas in annual funding. More recently, the government has taken steps to extend monthly allowances to priests, Buddhist monks, and Christian clergy alongside the existing stipends provided to imams, muezzins, and mosque caretakers. Nearly 990 temples and other minority religious institutions now receive monthly support, including allowances for principal religious leaders and their assistants, as well as festival grants during major religious occasions.

It would be difficult to identify another country-indeed, even neighboring India-where religious minority benefit from a comparable framework of state support. It would be even more difficult to find a country where the principal religious festivals of all major faith communities are observed through paid national holidays, or where non-Muslim communities receive festival benefits comparable in principle to those provided during Muslim religious celebrations. Yet despite these realities, the country periodically witnesses groups taking to the streets alleging a widespread crisis of minority rights claims that often appear inconsistent with the broader record outlined above. Rather than dismissing such activism outright, intellectual honesty requires a careful examination of it. Some of these activities undoubtedly reflect genuine and specific grievances that deserve to be heard and addressed on their own merits.

At the same time, there exists another line of argument-one that continues to generate significant debate among observers. Critics contend that certain campaigns function less as authentic minority-rights movements and more as vehicles for external political interests. They argue that some narratives may serve broader strategic objectives linked to India or act as proxies for the politically displaced Awami League, seeking re-entry into political discourse through manufactured or exaggerated grievances. Others reject this interpretation entirely, arguing that it unfairly delegitimizes minority concerns during a fragile period of transition and assigns foreign motives without sufficient evidence. What can be stated with greater confidence is that Bangladesh’s transition since mid-2024 has been fragile by any measure. It is during such fragile transitions that communal narratives-whether true or exaggerated, spontaneous or orchestrated-carry a disproportionate capacity to generate instability. A state apparatus undergoing reform, intelligence structures historically susceptible to political influence, and a shifting security environment together create fertile ground for various actors seeking to test how far communal tensions can be pushed before they translate into wider instability.

The deeper truth, reflected in those shared mosque-temple courtyards of Lalmonirhat, Sonargaon, and Tangail, is that communal coexistence in Bangladesh was never the accidental product of policy alone. It emerged from generations of families living alongside one another, often without any direct involvement from the state. Such harmony is resilient, but it is not indestructible. It can be eroded by repeatedly manufactured narratives of crisis just as surely as it can be damaged by genuine communal violence. Unfortunately, there are occasions when extremist, provocative, and anti-state elements attempt to undermine Bangladesh’s historic tradition of coexistence. They seek to exploit religion to create divisions, spread mistrust among communities, and weaken the country’s internal stability. At times, they attempt to incite minorities against majorities and majorities against minorities in pursuit of political objectives or foreign interests. The reality, however, is that ordinary Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Christians in Bangladesh do not seek conflict. They seek peace, security, and the freedom to practice their faith with dignity. Most citizens understand that communal discord benefits only those forces that wish to see Bangladesh weakened, divided, and destabilized.

The task ahead, therefore, is not to choose between defending the state’s record on minority protections and taking minority grievances seriously. Rather, it is to do with both with sufficient rigor so that neither genuine injustice nor political opportunism can hide behind the others. Bangladesh’s current period of transition cannot afford the luxury of leaving either unexamined. Bangladesh has never been a land of division. It is a country where the call to prayer from mosques, the ringing of temple bells, the chants of Buddhist monasteries, and the bells of churches have resonated side by side for generations. Those who seek to break this tradition are, in effect, challenging the very spirit of Bangladesh itself. Therefore, both the state and society must remain vigilant against communal incitement, hate-driven propaganda, and divisive politics pursued in the service of foreign or partisan interests. Bangladesh’s strength lies in its pluralism, its tolerance, and its centuries-old culture of coexistence. Preserving that heritage is not only the responsibility of the state; it is the moral obligation of every citizen. The principle remains as relevant today as ever: religion belongs to individuals, but the state belongs equally to all.