HISTORY has a way of returning not as memory, but as message. On December 16, Bangladesh marks Victory Day as the culmination of nine months of armed struggle, mass sacrifice and a brutal war that gave birth to an independent nation. It is the day when the Pakistani military surrendered in Dhaka, sealing Bangladesh’s long-cherished sovereignty. India, which joined the war in its final phase, also observes the date as Vijay Diwas. That shared remembrance has long stood as a pillar of bilateral goodwill, rooted in bloodshed and solidarity. Yet this year, a subtle but deeply unsettling shift in tone has reopened old anxieties in Dhaka about recognition, respect and political agency.
When Indian prime minister Narendra Modi marked the day with a social media post praising the bravery of Indian soldiers and celebrating India’s ‘historic victory in 1971’, Bangladesh did not feature even once. There was no mention of the Mukti Bahini, no reference to the people whose land became the battlefield, and no acknowledgement that the war’s central outcome was the birth of Bangladesh. The Indian army’s own message, issued earlier, was notably more balanced, explicitly stating that the joint struggle of the Mukti Bahini and Indian forces led to Bangladesh’s independence. The contrast was striking. In diplomacy, omission often speaks louder than words. For many in Bangladesh, the silence felt less like oversight and more like erasure.
This is not about competing claims to history, nor about diminishing India’s role in 1971. Few serious voices in Bangladesh deny the decisive military support India provided at a critical moment. But history is not a trophy to be monopolised, especially when its moral centre lies in the suffering and resistance of an occupied people. When Bangladesh’s name disappears from commemorations of its own liberation, it inevitably raises questions about how New Delhi currently perceives Dhaka, not as an equal partner shaped by shared history, but as a subordinate chapter within India’s national narrative.
That unease has been amplified by India’s recent public comments on Bangladesh’s internal political process. In two statements issued within days, New Delhi reiterated its expectation that Bangladesh should hold ‘free, fair, inclusive and credible elections’. On paper, the sentiment appears benign, even virtuous. In practice, coming from India, it has triggered a sharp and unusually blunt response from Dhaka. Foreign affairs adviser Towhid Hossain’s declaration that Bangladesh does not seek advice from its neighbours on how to conduct elections was not diplomatic flourish but political signalling. It was a line drawn publicly, and deliberately.
The reaction cannot be understood in isolation. Over the past decade and a half, Bangladesh has held three deeply controversial national elections. In 2014, more than half of parliament was elected unopposed. In 2018, allegations of widespread vote rigging dominated domestic and international discourse. In 2024, participation remained limited and legitimacy contested. Throughout this period, India was widely perceived, rightly or wrongly, as standing firmly behind the Awami League government. Indian diplomats engaged with political actors at sensitive moments, Indian leaders congratulated governments that others questioned, and Indian endorsement helped blunt international pressure. These actions may have been driven by strategic calculations, but they have left a residue of mistrust.
Against that backdrop, India’s sudden invocation of inclusive elections rings hollow to many Bangladeshis. The question being asked is not whether elections should be fair, but why this concern is being voiced now, and by whom. When calls for electoral credibility come from a neighbour seen as having legitimised past democratic distortions, the message is inevitably read through the lens of motive rather than principle. Even a correct statement loses credibility when the speaker’s past behaviour suggests partisanship.
Compounding this tension is the unresolved and increasingly sensitive issue of Sheikh Hasina’s presence in India. The former prime minister, deposed amid a mass uprising in August last year, has been living in India ever since. Bangladesh has formally requested her return to face trial, including on charges related to crimes against humanity. Those requests have gone unanswered. At the same time, reports persist of Awami League leaders and activists operating from Indian territory, with the interim government accusing them of attempting to destabilise Bangladesh from abroad.
It is within this context that Sheikh Hasina’s continued political commentary from Indian soil has become so explosive. When the chief adviser to the interim government, Professor Muhammad Yunus, urged her to stop making political statements and described the allowing of such activity by India as an unfriendly gesture, he articulated a concern that goes beyond partisan rivalry. It touches the raw nerve of sovereignty. For a former ruler to influence domestic politics while sheltered in a neighbouring country is bound to provoke anger and suspicion. It creates the impression of external patronage and political engineering.
What makes the situation more delicate is that unease over this issue is not confined to Bangladesh alone. Voices within India’s own political space have reportedly expressed discomfort with the use of Indian territory as a platform for foreign political mobilisation. This suggests an awareness that such actions risk undermining the very trust and goodwill India claims to value in its neighbourhood policy. Yet that awareness has not translated into visible restraint or clarity.
For many Bangladeshis, the fear is not simply that India prefers a particular party, but that it seeks to reinsert that party into the political process under the banner of inclusivity. The repeated emphasis on participatory elections is increasingly interpreted as coded language for rehabilitating the Awami League. Analysts point out that India’s strategic comfort with the Awami League, built over years of security cooperation and regional alignment, has not been replicated with other political forces in Bangladesh. From New Delhi’s perspective, this creates a trust deficit. From Dhaka’s perspective, it looks like selective democracy.
This perception has serious implications for the upcoming elections. Bangladesh is navigating a fragile transition after years of polarised and often coercive politics. Public confidence in electoral processes has been badly eroded. In such an environment, even the appearance of foreign influence can be destabilising. If large segments of the electorate believe that outcomes are being shaped, or even nudged, from across the border, faith in democratic competition will weaken further. The risk is not merely diplomatic friction but domestic volatility.
The broader regional context only sharpens these concerns. Bangladesh today is recalibrating its foreign relations, balancing ties with India, China and Western partners while asserting greater strategic autonomy. India, for its part, faces its own regional anxieties and security imperatives. Stability in Bangladesh matters to New Delhi. But stability imposed or managed through influence is inherently fragile. It breeds resentment, not partnership.
At its core, the current tension is about respect. Respect for history that acknowledges who the principal victor of 1971 was. Respect for sovereignty that recognises Bangladesh’s capacity to manage its own democratic processes. Respect for political boundaries that discourages the use of foreign soil for domestic mobilisation. Neighbourly relations thrive not on declarations of friendship alone, but on restraint, sensitivity and an understanding of how power asymmetries are perceived.
Bangladesh’s strong reaction, therefore, should not be dismissed as diplomatic petulance or nationalist posturing. It is a response shaped by accumulated experience, by memories of interference and endorsement, and by a present moment in which the stakes of political legitimacy are exceptionally high. India may insist that it does not interfere. It may frame its statements as generic support for democracy. But in politics, perception often outweighs intent.
If the spirit of 1971 is to mean anything beyond ceremonial rhetoric, it must be reflected in how both countries engage today. That spirit was about liberation, dignity and self-determination. As Bangladesh prepares for elections that will shape its political future, it needs space to rebuild trust in its own institutions, free from real or perceived external pressure. And if India truly seeks a stable, friendly and democratic neighbour, it would do well to remember that the most enduring influence is earned through respect, not advice.
HM Nazmul Alam is an academic, journalist, and political analyst based in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Currently he teaches at IUBAT.
