As night falls, the once serene silence is now filled with fear and uncertainty for Hindus across Bangladesh. The thought of celebrating religious festivals like Durga Puja without the looming threat of violence seems increasingly unattainable. The fear is pervasive. The stories I hear from other women are harrowing. “The anxiety has become a part of our daily lives. As a girl living with my sister alone in Dhaka, safety is already a concern. Being a minority only amplifies that anxiety. We constantly worry about our very existence here,” said a girl I met during the Minority Rights Movement protest. She is a final-year student at the University of Dhaka, living far from her family. In a patriarchal society, women have always faced challenges, but lately, the situation has become even more daunting for women from minority communities.

A senior from Chottogram, with whom I once volunteered, shared over the phone, “I’m constantly afraid that anyone could attack us at any moment. The red thread on my wrist, a symbol of my faith, feels like a target. Everyone on the street seems to be watching me.” This sentiment is echoed by many other women, who now question their safety in the place they call home. One woman I know is considering sending her younger sister abroad for her studies, despite her recent acceptance into SUST, simply to keep her safe. The fear is so intense that even receiving a WhatsApp message warning of a mob searching for Hindu families sends waves of panic through the community.

One of my friends put it simply, “All I want is the privilege to feel safe in my own country. The bare minimum I ask for is to practice my religion in peace.” Her words capture the desperation of an entire community that only seeks to live without fear.

The silence from local media about these communal attacks surrounding these communal attacks leaves us feeling even more vulnerable and isolated. We are forced to gather and share information on our own, while many dismiss the reality of the situation as mere rumor. Imagine the anguish of having to document the destruction of your home or the death of loved ones just to prove that your suffering is real. This is the cruel reality we face. 

Hindu families in nearly every district of Bangladesh face this grim situation. The situation outside Dhaka is particularly dire. We are emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. The constant state of panic is depleting our energy and eroding our confidence.

The resignation of Sheikh Hasina has sparked a wave of communal violence that has profoundly altered their lives. Bangladesh has witnessed a surge in violence against Hindu minorities, with over 100 incidents reported in just a few weeks. Temples have been desecrated, dozens of homes and businesses have been destroyed, and at least 20 people have been injured or killed. The violence is fueled by political instability and religious intolerance, exposing the deep-seated vulnerabilities of minority communities in the country. For us, this isn’t just news—it is our lived reality.

Women in Hindu communities often face a dual threat—targeted not just for their gender but also for their religious identity. As a Hindu in a Muslim-majority country like Bangladesh, the challenges begin right from birth and continue throughout life. Bangladesh emerged in 1971 with the promise of a secular and democratic state, as outlined in Paragraph 2 of the Preamble to its first Constitution, adopted on November 4, 1972. The Eighth Amendment to the Constitution, enacted on June 7, 1988, declared Islam as the state religion while permitting other faiths to be practiced in peace and harmony. Since independence, the Hindu population in Bangladesh has seen a marked decline relative to the Muslim population. The Hindu share of the total population dropped from 13.5% in 1991 to 8.2% in 2011, and projections suggest it could fall to 3.7% by 2051. Security is a constant concern for them. The decline in the Hindu population reflects not just migration, but also a response to persistent threats and violence. Hindu families live with the fear of attacks on their homes, businesses, and places of worship. 

What we are witnessing today is not just a series of isolated incidents but the latest chapter in a long history of violence and discrimination against religious minorities in this country. At its core, the violence against Hindu minorities is fueled by a toxic mix of religious intolerance, political opportunism, and deep-seated social prejudices. The political instability following Sheikh Hasina’s departure has only exacerbated these tensions, providing a convenient pretext for extremists to carry out their agenda. 

If this situation continues, it will further fracture the social fabric of Bangladesh, leading to greater polarization and instability. The loss of Hindu communities—who have been an integral part of this country’s history and culture—will be an irreparable blow to our nation’s diversity and richness. For women, the impact is even more devastating. The trauma of this violence will linger for generations, affecting not only the victims but their families and communities as well. Women who have been attacked or threatened will find it difficult to trust the society they live in, and the psychological scars will hinder their ability to participate fully in public life. This will, in turn, stifle the progress of the entire nation.

Growing up and living as a Hindu in Bangladesh presents a series of challenges, from social exclusion and discrimination to security concerns and cultural suppression. The ongoing decline in the Hindu population is not just a statistic but a reflection of the harsh realities faced by the community. My experience, shared by many others, highlights the urgent need for greater protection, equality, and respect for the rights of all citizens, regardless of their religion. This issue is not just about today; it’s about the future of Bangladesh and its commitment to the principles of justice and equality.