History is often written in dates, elections, and declarations. But political suffering is lived in silence, courtrooms, exile, prison cells, and long years of waiting. Bangladesh’s political journey over the past four decades carries many such stories. Among them, few are as prolonged, personal, and consequential as the ordeal faced by Begum Khaleda Zia and her eldest son, Tarique Rahman.
This is not merely a family story. What this really means is a political narrative that reflects how power, vengeance, justice, and endurance have intersected in Bangladesh’s democracy.
Begum Khaleda Zia entered politics not by design but by destiny. After the assassination of President Ziaur Rahman in 1981, she stepped into a hostile political arena dominated by military rulers and entrenched interests. She was a widow, politically inexperienced, and underestimated. Yet over time, she emerged as a mass leader, leading the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) through years of resistance against autocratic rule.
Her leadership during the anti-Ershad movement of the late 1980s was a turning point. The fall of military dictatorship in 1990 was not a gift of history; it was earned through street movements, sacrifices, and political courage. Khaleda Zia became Prime Minister in 1991, restoring parliamentary democracy. For many, that period symbolised hope. But politics in Bangladesh has rarely allowed hope to mature peacefully.
What followed were cycles of confrontation. The rivalry between the two major political camps hardened into personal animosity. Institutions became battlefields. Parliament often stood empty. Streets replaced dialogue. And gradually, politics became less about governance and more about survival.
Begum Zia served as Prime Minister three times. Her governments saw achievements and failures, like any other. But after 2006, the political climate shifted sharply. The military-backed caretaker government of 2007–08 marked the beginning of a new phase of suffering. She was arrested, confined, and humiliated publicly. For the first time, a former Prime Minister of Bangladesh was imprisoned under emergency rule.
That period broke a political norm. Once broken, it never fully recovered.
After the return of electoral politics, the pressure did not ease. Case after case was filed. Court appearances became routine. Age and illness worsened, but the grind continued. In 2018, Begum Zia was sentenced and sent to prison again, this time as a convicted person. For a woman who once commanded state power, the fall was brutal and deeply symbolic.
Today, she is an elderly leader suffering from serious health complications, confined to her residence under conditional release. Her freedom is measured not by rights but by permissions. Her treatment abroad remains a political question rather than a humanitarian one. This prolonged suffering has raised uncomfortable questions about justice, compassion, and proportionality.
Running parallel to this is the story of Tarique Rahman.
Tarique Rahman did not inherit politics; he was drawn into it. As a young leader, he emerged within BNP during the early 2000s. His rise was rapid, perhaps too rapid. He became a central figure in party organisation, strategy, and grassroots mobilisation. Admirers saw him as a moderniser. Critics saw concentration of power. Either way, he became a political target.
The events of 2007 changed his life permanently. Arrested, allegedly tortured, and subjected to intense pressure, Tarique Rahman left the country for medical treatment. That departure turned into exile. What was supposed to be temporary became indefinite.
Since then, he has lived in London, separated from his homeland, his party, and direct political participation. In absentia, he was tried, convicted, and sentenced in multiple cases. Supporters argue these are politically motivated. Opponents claim accountability. The truth, like most things in Bangladesh politics, is buried under layers of mistrust.
Exile is a quiet punishment. There are no prison walls, but there is no homeland either. Tarique Rahman has not seen his mother freely in years. He has not walked the streets of Dhaka, visited party offices, or addressed supporters face to face. Politics for him has become virtual, mediated through statements, video messages, and intermediaries.
Yet despite exile and convictions, he remains the acting chairman of BNP. This itself says something important. It speaks to political continuity, loyalty, and the failure of repression to erase leadership.
This prolonged suffering is not just about two individuals. It reflects a deeper crisis in Bangladesh’s political culture. When politics becomes zero-sum, when opponents are treated as enemies, suffering becomes normalised. Legal processes lose moral authority when they are seen as selective. And democracy weakens when participation is replaced by punishment.
From Begum Zia to Tarique Rahman, the story is one of endurance under pressure. It is also a story of a nation struggling to reconcile power with tolerance. Supporters see injustice and persecution. Critics see consequences and accountability. Between these narratives lies the ordinary citizen, watching politics drift further from hope.
No democracy matures by silencing half its political spectrum. No stability lasts when major leaders are either imprisoned, exiled, or incapacitated. History shows that unresolved political suffering does not disappear; it accumulates.
The long ordeal of Begum Zia and Tarique Rahman will be judged not only by courts or parties, but by history itself. Whether this suffering leads to reconciliation or deeper division depends on choices yet to be made.
Political power is temporary. Suffering leaves permanent marks. The question is whether the nation is willing to learn from this long, unbearable story or repeat it under new names and new faces.
The writer is a Marketing Management Expert, Policy Consultant & Political Analyst
