Islamic parties in Bangladesh are becoming increasingly vocal in their criticism of India’s Waqf Amendment Act. Major religious groups such as Hefazat-e-Islam, Jamaat-e-Islami, and Khilafat Majlis have denounced the law, calling it discriminatory and harmful to the rights of Indian Muslims.
Notably, the main opposition party, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), has also expressed strong disapproval of India’s legislative move.
However, at the same time—and quite surprisingly—a discriminatory anti-Hindu law known as the Vested Property Act still exists in Bangladesh. Yet none of these Islamic parties have spoken out against it.
Recently, the Waqf (Amendment) Bill was passed in both houses of the Indian Parliament. In the Rajya Sabha, it received 128 votes in favor and 95 against. In the Lok Sabha, 288 members voted for it and 232 against.
India has nearly 8.7 lakh Waqf properties spread over 9.4 lakh acres, valued at around ₹1.2 lakh crore, but the annual income from these properties is only ₹163 crore.
The BJP-led government argues that the amendment will ensure transparency and better resource management—especially as the government is planning to generate revenue by commercially utilising certain Waqf properties, such as turning them into shopping malls.
Surprisingly, no one seems to be speaking about that aspect.
Bangladeshi Islamic leaders, particularly from Hefazat-e-Islam, have urged the Bangladesh government to support Indian Muslims, portraying it as a moral obligation. However, this stance exposes a troubling double standard.
Bangladesh itself enforces the Vested Property Act (VPA), which has long been used to dispossess Hindu citizens.
The very voices condemning India’s law remain silent on this domestic injustice. Hindus in Bangladesh have been suffering under this law for the past five decades.
Following the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government on August 5, 2024, attacks on Hindu communities have surged amid political unrest.
Hindu homes, temples, and businesses have been targeted, with disturbing reports of killings and sexual violence.
These incidents highlight systemic discrimination and state failure. Yet, Islamic party leaders remain silent on this growing crisis.
The interim government led by Dr. Yunus came to power with promises of equality, but what has he done for the Hindus in the last eight months?
There has been no meaningful progress. In fact, the condition of Hindu minorities has worsened.
Many now fear that the government is complicit in fostering an environment where minorities live under constant threat, insecurity, and marginalization.
The continued existence of the Vested Property Act further enables others to occupy Hindu-owned property—yet, once again, there is a collective silence.
A Legal Weapon Born in Partition
The roots of the VPA can be traced back to the Enemy Property Act, enacted by the Pakistani regime in 1965 after the Indo-Pak war.
It allowed the government to confiscate properties of individuals deemed as “enemies of the state”—an euphemism for Hindus who fled communal violence or were merely suspected of sympathies toward India.
When Bangladesh emerged as an independent nation in 1971, it was envisioned as a secular state, a stark contrast to its theocratic predecessor.
One would have expected the newly sovereign country to repeal such discriminatory laws. Instead, it retained and repackaged them.
The Enemy Property Act was renamed as the Vested Property Act in 1974, continuing the dispossession of Hindu citizens, often based on rumor, forged documents, or vague associations.
Legal Injustice, Cultural Devastation
The legal absurdity of the VPA lies in its perverse logic: even Hindus who never left Bangladesh could find their property labeled as “vested” and seized.
Families who had lived for generations in one area found their ancestral lands reclassified without notice.
In some cases, the mere death of a patriarch or the lack of a male heir was sufficient justification for confiscation.
The consequences have been staggering. According to Professor Dr. Abul Barkat, a renowned economist and researcher, between 1965 and 2006, nearly 2.6 million acres of land were seized from approximately 1.2 million Hindu families.
These numbers translate into more than land loss—they represent the loss of wealth, identity, stability, and security.
Entire villages were uprooted. Families with deep ties to land, culture, and community became stateless in their own homeland.
Temples fell into disrepair, sacred groves were razed, and cultural practices that revolved around shared land and kinship slowly eroded. A once-flourishing community began to wither under state neglect and social hostility.
The Shrinking Hindu Population
The demographic impact is equally sobering. In 1961, Hindus constituted 18.4% of Bangladesh’s population.
By 2001, that figure had fallen to 9.2%, with unofficial estimates suggesting it had dipped below 8% by 2007.
A significant portion of this decline is attributable not to natural migration or demographic trends, but to systemic displacement and fear.
Between 1981 and 2001 alone, over 4.6 million Hindus are estimated to have left Bangladesh, driven by persecution, insecurity, and a lack of legal recourse. Their departure is often silent and undocumented—a slow exodus that continues to shape the country’s social fabric.
Complicity Across the Spectrum
The VPA has served not only as a mechanism for communal discrimination but also as a tool for political patronage.
Dr. Barkat’s research reveals a damning bipartisan record: around 60% of the property occupied by the people who have affiliation with Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), Jatiya Party, Jamaat-e-Islami, and other smaller factions. And after the fall of Sheikh Hasina, this number increased.
This cross-party exploitation of dispossessed Hindu lands exposes a systemic rot. For political parties, these properties became rewards for loyalty or avenues to silence dissent.
The judiciary, bureaucracy, and law enforcement often facilitated or turned a blind eye to these transactions.
Behind the staggering statistics lie individual tragedies. Take the example of Sanjay Kumar Mitra, a Hindu businessman from Faridpur, whose family land was labeled “enemy property” despite continuous residence in Bangladesh.
Although he eventually won a legal battle to reclaim his land, bureaucratic inertia and political interference prevented any real restoration.
His case mirrors the fate of thousands, sarcastically dubbed “Zaminhara Zamindars”—landless landlords.
These stories are not just about lost assets—they are about families denied justice, children growing up with fear and stigma, and communities robbed of their future.
The Vested Property Return Act, passed in 2001 under the Awami League government, was meant to correct past wrongs by returning properties or compensating the victims. It promised resolution of all claims within 180 days.
But with the BNP’s return to power, the law’s enforcement slowed, and subsequent political transitions diluted its impact further.
By 2013, less than 1% of cases had been resolved. The amendment passed but failed to deliver tangible results.
Loopholes, vague definitions, and bureaucratic hurdles rendered the law ineffective. Today, for most victims, justice remains a distant dream.
A Secular Dream Deferred
Bangladesh’s identity crisis deepened with the revival of religion-based politics, particularly under Ziaur Rahman, who amended the constitution to prioritize Islam. The once-enshrined secular ethos began to erode.
Recent developments, including the interim government’s softening stance toward groups like Jamaat-e-Islami, signal a worrying return to ideologies that have historically been antagonistic toward minorities.
Though everyone knows, VPA is a direct violation of constitutional guarantees of equality before the law and internationally, it stands in breach of several human rights conventions, including the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights but the situation is like- no one is here who speaks on behalf of minorities.
Hypocrisy and Deflection
In this context, the Islamic parties’ outcry over India’s Waqf Amendment rings hollow.
If they are truly concerned with religious rights and property seizures, why do they not speak up against the Consigned/Vested Property Act in their own country?
BNP’s Salahuddin Ahmed, during a press conference, expressed hope that India would reconsider the Waqf Amendment to maintain “regional communal harmony.”
But his statement is ambiguous—does it hint at retaliatory measures? Should Hindus in Bangladesh suffer because Muslims in India feel wronged?
The timing is also telling. After the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government on August 5, 2024, attacks against Hindu minorities surged amid political unrest.
Homes, temples, and businesses were targeted. In some areas, killings and sexual assaults against minority women were reported. This ongoing crisis is not merely a law-and-order issue—it is the result of decades of structural injustice and societal neglect.
Toward Justice and Reconciliation
To understand the full weight of the VPA, one must look beyond legal analysis. In South Asian cultures, land is more than property—it is identity, ancestry, and history.
Losing land means losing a place in the story of the nation. The slow disappearance of Hindus from Bangladesh is not a natural demographic shift—it is a cultural hemorrhage.
The temples, rituals, festivals, and oral histories tied to specific places are vanishing, along with the people who carried them.
What remains is a homogenized landscape, stripped of the diversity that once defined Bengal.
What can be done to reverse this legacy of injustice? First, there must be an unconditional repeal of all laws and administrative protocols that continue to identify properties as “vested.”
Second, the government must establish a transparent, time-bound commission empowered to review cases and return property or offer compensation. Third, legal aid and advocacy must be extended to victims who often lack the resources to navigate the complex system.
But none of this will succeed without political will.
The leadership—regardless of party—must treat this issue not as a political liability but as a moral and constitutional imperative. Civil society, the media, and international observers must keep the pressure alive.
A Warning to All Democracies
The story of Bangladesh’s Hindus is more than a national issue; it is a warning to every pluralistic democracy.
It shows how democratic institutions can be subverted by majoritarian impulses, how discriminatory laws can remain in effect for decades, and how silence can become complicity.
Ironically, while Islamic parties in Bangladesh demand justice for Indian Muslims, they remain complicit — or at least conveniently mute — about the injustices suffered by Hindus at home.
This double standard reveals the dangers of selective activism rooted in religious identity rather than universal principles of justice.
If Bangladesh is to reclaim its secular promise, it must confront its past with honesty and empathy. Justice delayed cannot become justice denied.
Only when the nation acknowledges and addresses the suffering of its minorities can it move toward genuine reconciliation.
The persecution of Hindus — particularly after the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government in August 2024 — has intensified.
Amid political unrest, targeted attacks on Hindu homes, temples, and businesses have increased.
Reports of sexual violence against minority women add another layer of horror to this humanitarian crisis.
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These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a systemic failure by the state to protect all its citizens.
The VPA is not just a law — it is a symbol of Bangladesh’s unfulfilled promise, of a secular dream deferred.
The road to justice begins with acknowledgment. Until then, the wounds of history will fester, and the country’s pluralistic fabric will continue to unravel.
True communal harmony in South Asia cannot be achieved through selective outrage. If Bangladeshi leaders can speak up for Indian Muslims, they must also demand justice for their own marginalized citizens.
Only then can Bangladesh move forward — toward a future where faith is not a liability, and where every citizen, regardless of religion, is truly equal before the law.
