India, Myanmar, and the Rohingya tragedy

In early January, Bangladeshi border guards intercepted nearly 60 Rohingya near the Alikadam border. Among them were children and the elderly, worn down by days of treacherous travel. 

The scale and co-ordination behind the crossing — vehicles ready, routes pre-mapped, and local facilitators in place — reveal the presence of an organized trafficking pipeline rather than a desperate dash for safety. 

But this incident is just one ripple in a much larger wave. Over just three months, from late 2024 into the new year, authorities rounded up over a dozen traffickers and turned away nearly 400 Rohingya trying to slip through porous terrain. 

The smugglers are no longer lone operators — they’re part of a criminal web charging fees in cash, drugs, even gold, depending on what’s available. Hidden trails through thick jungles and forgotten outposts now serve as arteries for this trade in human lives.

Quiet expulsions

Then comes the role of India — specifically, a deliberate campaign by parts of its government to forcibly push undocumented people, mostly Rohingya, into Bangladesh. 

Assam’s Chief Minister didn’t mince words: They’re done with paperwork, and instead, they’re shoving people over the fence. Proudly, even. These aren’t whispered operations either. In May alone, around 340 individuals were dumped onto Bangladeshi soil, some blindfolded, many abused, and most shuttled in from hundreds of miles away.

It’s a grotesque form of political outsourcing: Take a vulnerable group, fly them across a subcontinent, and drop them like unwanted parcels at someone else’s door. 

The international reaction? Barely a murmur. If this were happening elsewhere — at a Western border, say — the outcry would be deafening. Here, the silence is telling.

The refugee burden

Layered on top of all this is Myanmar’s deepening internal war. With the Arakan Army tightening its grip on Rakhine state, new forms of extortion have emerged. Rohingya trying to escape must now pay exorbitant fees to rebel intermediaries for the “right” to flee. Even river crossings have a price, and the toll is heavy. These aren’t bribes — they’re ransoms in a lawless, crumbling landscape.

There are now reports of hundreds of Rohingya waiting in makeshift camps in Bandarban, hoping for a chance to cross into what is already an overcrowded and under-resourced nation. Bangladesh, for its part, stands on a knife’s edge. It hosts more than a million Rohingya refugees in Cox’s Bazar alone. The strain is real, and so are the fears — fears of economic displacement, social unrest, and long-term demographic shifts that feel impossible to reverse.

Anger at the borders

People in border towns aren’t just worried — they’re angry. They see jobs disappearing to desperate newcomers willing to work for less. They fear that today’s temporary shelters might become tomorrow’s permanent settlements. And behind all that is a gnawing sense that the central government might be losing control, or worse, looking the other way.

While Dhaka detains and deports where it can, such reactive measures merely scratch the surface. The deeper problem — what drives these migrations, what enables the networks, what fuels the cruelty — goes unaddressed. 

Meanwhile, security complications within the country continue to fester. In recent months, families displaced by insurgent violence in the Chittagong Hill Tracts have trickled back home. That these internal security issues intersect so directly with border pressures only amplifies the difficulty of managing them.

Sovereignty at risk

And this isn’t just Bangladesh’s problem. When a nation finds its borders routinely violated by another state’s policies, what does that mean for sovereignty? What precedent does it set? If India can do this now, unchecked, what stops others from carving out de facto zones of influence inside neighbouring countries in the future?

Trafficking networks don’t operate in a vacuum. The same routes that smuggle people often carry weapons, drugs, and contraband. The longer they’re allowed to grow, the harder they will be to dismantle. What starts as a refugee crisis risks evolving into a regional security meltdown.

There are no simple fixes. But that’s not an excuse for inaction.

Bangladesh must begin by drawing firmer diplomatic lines with India. Bilateral dialogue isn’t enough when fundamental norms are being violated. The international community — especially those with influence in New Delhi — needs to make it clear that sovereignty and basic decency still matter. Pushbacks, blindfolded transfers, and airlifts of unwanted populations are not innovations; they’re violations.

Equally, any plan for a humanitarian corridor into Rakhine must come with multilateral support. Bangladesh can’t carry this burden alone. The idea that it should host another wave of arrivals while Myanmar, India, and others wash their hands of the issue is both untenable and unjust.

A moral reckoning

Long-term, the region needs to stop treating the Rohingya like a problem to be shuffled around and start addressing the conditions that created the crisis. That means dealing honestly with Myanmar’s civil war, with ASEAN abandoning its policy of passive non-intervention, and with the global community moving beyond hollow statements of concern.

This moment is a litmus test. Not just for Bangladesh, or for South Asia, but for international willpower itself. How we respond — whether with silence, delay, or decisive action — will shape the moral fabric of the region for years to come.

If the world continues to look away, then what’s happening in the hills of Bandarban isn’t just a crisis. It’s a warning for much worse.

Md Ibrahim Khalilullah is a geopolitical analyst and writer focused on cross-border security and humanitarian issues in South Asia. Email: ibrahimkhalilullah010@gmail.com