A WISE old man once lived in the hills alongside a clever young boy. Eager to prove the old man a fool, the boy devised a cunning trick. He caught a small, delicate bird in the forest and held it gently in his hands. His plan was straightforward: he would approach the old man and ask, ‘Old man, what am I holding in my hands?’ The old man would reply, ‘You are holding a bird, my son.’
Then came the real challenge: ‘Is the bird alive or dead?’ If the old man said the bird was dead, the boy would open his hands and let it fly away. But if the old man said the bird was alive, the boy would crush it quietly and cruelly until it died. He would then open his hands and say, ‘See, old man, the bird is dead.’
So, it happened. The boy went to the old man and asked, ‘Old man, what do I have in my hands?’ The old man looked at him with calm eyes and replied, ‘You have a bird, my son.’
‘Is it alive or dead?’ the boy pressed.
The wise old man gently responded, ‘That, my son, is in your hands.’
The fate of the Bawm indigenous community in Bangladesh now rests in the hands of the state, and the silence surrounding their plight is deafening. This parable illustrates the grim reality unfolding in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Like a bird trapped between a boy’s hands, the future of the Bawm people is determined not by justice or the rule of law, but by the will of state authority. They are not being targeted for their actions but for their identity. In this depiction, the fragile bird symbolises the vulnerable and innocent Bawm community — trapped, voiceless and exposed. The boy, cunning and ruthless, represents the state forces and authorities who cast suspicion and impose suffering without evidence or accountability. Meanwhile, the wise old man — gentle in voice and clear in his eyes — symbolises Bangladesh’s civil society, which possesses a conscience and still dares to speak the truth in the face of cruelty.
In a report published last year, the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs warned that the situation in the Chittagong Hill Tracts bears unmistakable signs of ethnic cleansing. What began as a national security operation against a small armed group — the Kuki-Chin National Front, primarily composed of disaffected Bawm youth — has now morph into a campaign of collective punishment against an entire indigenous community.
The Bawm are one of the smallest and most culturally distinct indigenous groups in Bangladesh. They inhabit the remote, hilly forests of Bandarban, where they have lived for generations, practicing jum cultivation and upholding tightly-knit communal traditions. Since 2022, however, their lives have been turned upside down. Villages have been raided, food supplies blocked, mobile networks severed and aid agencies and journalists have been banned. The government’s heavy-handed response to the KNF has made no distinction between insurgents and civilians. Women, children and elderly Bawm villagers have been arrested without charge, with many simply disappearing.
In recent months, the crisis has intensified. At least three Bawm men — Van Lal Rual Bawm, Lal Sangmoy Bawm and Lal Thelong Kim Bawm — have died in state custody. None were convicted, and all were reportedly denied adequate medical care. They died slowly and silently in the custody of a state that insists it is acting in the name of peace. Their deaths sparked outrage among rights activists. In August 2, 2025 over 150 civil society leaders issued a public statement demanding justice. They called for an independent judicial inquiry, the immediate release of those arbitrarily detained and compensation for affected families. They urged the government to abandon its policy of ‘collective punishment,’ a strategy that criminalises an entire ethnic group for the alleged actions of a few.
The case of Shiuli Bawm is especially chilling. A woman reportedly suffering from thalassemia was arrested in April 2024 and denied bail despite the medical necessity. She remains in custody, not because of what she has done, but because of who she is. At least eleven other Bawm indigenous women remain imprisoned under similar circumstances.
This action is not law enforcement; it is persecution.
Bangladesh has long prided itself on being a pluralistic democracy committed to cultural diversity. In 1997, the government signed the Chittagong Hill Tracts Accord, a historic agreement aimed at ending decades of armed conflict and guaranteeing the rights of indigenous peoples. That promise has been systematically broken. Key provisions such as restoration of land rights, demilitarisation, devolution of power to local councils and empowerment of local governance so on, have never been fully implemented. Instead, the region has witnessed creeping militarisation, land grabbing, forced eviction and displacements, violence against indigenous women, communal attacks and deepening mistrust. Now, with the KNF serving as a convenient scapegoat, state authorities appear more interested in silencing dissent than resolving conflict. The insurgency is being used as cover to tighten control over the region and suppress indigenous peoples altogether.
The Bawm people are often overlooked. They are small in number and geographically isolated. They lack a political party, media platform and majoritarian influence. But that is precisely why they matter. A state’s moral legitimacy is not judged by how it treats the powerful but by how it treats the powerless.
And right now, Bangladesh is failing that test.
The international community has taken notice. Amnesty International has condemned the arbitrary detentions and called for immediate humanitarian access. The IWGIA has urged the government to fully implement the CHT Accord and restore civil liberties in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. However, inside Bangladesh, a cloak of silence still prevails. We are observing the methodical erosion of a community’s rights, security and very survival. We are witnessing a community being erased not through violence, but through bureaucratic means: blocked roads, withheld food and quiet disappearances. If this continues, they will fade away one by one, disappearing from the public memory.
The government must lift restrictions on humanitarian access, end arbitrary arrests and investigate deaths in custody with transparency and urgency. Above all, it must stop viewing the Bawm people as enemies of the state. They are citizens — farmers, mothers, students and elders. They have a right to exist in peace, with dignity and without fear.
The fate of the bird remains in the hands of state authorities. Whether it is allowed to thrive or left to perish will not only decide the future of the Bawm community, it will also reflect the very soul of Bangladesh.
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Milinda Marma is an indigenous writer and activist.