Syed Riyaz Khawar
The conviction and death sentence handed down to former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina by Dhaka’s International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) on November 17, 2025, has unleashed a torrent of legal scrutiny, political recriminations, and diplomatic tensions rippling across South Asia. Established by Hasina herself in 2010 to prosecute atrocities from the 1971 Liberation War, the tribunal now stands accused of irony—or worse, instrumentalization—as it indicts her for crimes against humanity tied to the brutal 2024 crackdown on student-led protests. The charges paint a grim picture: orchestrating mass killings in Dhaka, deploying drones and helicopters to fire on unarmed crowds, ordering the incineration of bodies in Ashulia to erase evidence, and inciting the murder of student activist Abu Sayed in Chankharpur. Alongside Hasina, former Home Minister Asaduzzaman Khan Kamal received the death penalty in absentia, while ex-Inspector General of Police Chowdhury Abdullah Al-Mamun escaped capital punishment with a five-year term after turning state witness and pleading guilty.
Delivered without the presence of the accused, the verdict has ignited fierce debates over procedural fairness. Hasina, exiled in New Delhi since fleeing Dhaka by helicopter amid the August 2024 uprising, dismissed the proceedings as a “rigged tribunal” orchestrated by an “unelected government with no democratic mandate.” Her son, Sajeev Wazed, echoed this outrage, labeling it a “foregone conclusion” from a biased court. Security was unprecedented: 15,000 police and paramilitary forces blanketed Dhaka, with “shoot-on-sight” orders issued amid clashes near the ruins of Hasina’s father Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s home—itself a flashpoint for protesters demanding its demolition. The United Nations’ human rights office urged adherence to “international standards of due process,” highlighting the risks of in-absentia judgments. Human Rights Watch decried the interim regime’s broader tactics, accusing it of mirroring Hasina’s authoritarian playbook by jailing opponents and stifling dissent under antiterrorism laws.
This tribunal, once Hasina’s weapon against pro-Pakistan elements like Jamaat-e-Islami, now boomerangs against her, fueling suspicions of selective justice. Critics, including Awami League loyalists, argue it was never truly independent—riddled with handpicked judges and verdicts tailored to crush opposition during her 15-year rule. Over 400 executions and life sentences were meted out under its auspices, mostly to Islamist leaders, prompting international outcry from Amnesty International and the UN for lacking impartiality. Now, under Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus’s interim government, the ICT’s pivot invites charges of vendetta: a tool to decapitate the Awami League ahead of February 2026 elections, from which the party stands banned under the Anti-Terrorism Act of 2009. Hasina’s camp warns this exclusion could trigger a mass boycott, deepening divisions and handing the polls to rivals like the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) or a resurgent Jamaat-e-Islami, whose student wing, Islami Chhatra Shibir, recently triumphed in university elections.
Historical echoes amplify the unease. Supporters draw stark parallels to Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s 1979 hanging in Pakistan—a sham trial under General Zia-ul-Haq’s dictatorship, marred by coerced confessions and absent due process. Both cases feature politically charged accusations, trials by proxies of unstable regimes, and a veneer of legality masking retribution. Bhutto’s fate, widely seen as a power consolidation ploy, left Pakistan scarred by instability; Hasina’s could do the same for Bangladesh, where the 2024 uprising—sparked by job quotas but exploding into a “Monsoon Revolution” that felled her regime—claimed up to 1,400 lives, per UN estimates. The tribunal’s own records cite Hasina’s “incitement orders” and failure to curb atrocities, but skeptics question the evidence’s chain of custody, especially amid reports of fabricated phone logs and unverified drone footage.
International law casts a long shadow over the drama. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Article 10, adopted December 10, 1948) mandates no one be “condemned unheard,” a principle echoed in the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Hasina’s legal team was denied meaningful participation, her indictment rushed on July 10, 2025, without cross-examination opportunities. The ICT, a domestic body, claims alignment with the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court—yet lacks the ICC’s oversight, rendering its verdicts vulnerable to nullification abroad. Appeals are theoretically possible within 30 days, but only if Hasina surrenders or is extradited, a Catch-22 that underscores the process’s flaws.
Enter India’s extradition quandary. On November 17, Dhaka invoked the 2013 India-Bangladesh Extradition Treaty, demanding Hasina and Kamal’s immediate handover as a “mandatory duty.” The treaty mandates compliance for extraditable offenses like murder or crimes against humanity, but carves out exceptions: refusal if charges are “political” or if extradition would be “unjust or oppressive” (Articles 6 and 8). Hasina’s case screams the former—the ban on her party, the tribunal’s politicized history, and Yunus’s regime’s fragility all point to retribution over reckoning. Legally, India’s Extradition Act of 1962 empowers the executive to deny requests deemed unfair, offering a firewall against endorsing a “kangaroo court,” as strategist Brahma Chellaney termed it. New Delhi’s measured response—“committed to the best interests of Bangladesh’s people, including peace, democracy, and stability”—signals no rush to comply, prioritizing quiet diplomacy over hasty concessions.
Strategically, the stakes are existential for India. Hasina’s tenure forged unbreakable bonds: border fencing curbed smuggling and militancy; Teesta water-sharing pacts (though stalled) symbolized goodwill; counterterrorism intel thwarted plots from Rohingya camps. Trade ballooned to $16 billion annually, with Indian investments in Bangladesh’s garments and power sectors fueling mutual growth. Connectivity dreams—like the Akhaura-Agartala rail—hinged on her reliability. Handing her over risks empowering anti-India forces: Jamaat-e-Islami, unbanned since August 2024 and surging with youth support, historically cozied up to Pakistan and harbors Islamist fringes/hostile to Delhi’s secular ethos. Its rebranding as a “moderate democratic actor” aligns with the National Citizen Party (NCP) for proportional representation, but analysts warn of a BNP-Jamaat coalition tilting Dhaka westward, jeopardizing India’s Northeast security and Bay of Bengal dominance. Yunus’s overtures to China—via Belt and Road nods—further unnerve New Delhi, evoking a zero-sum regional pivot.
Yet, ignoring Dhaka’s plea invites backlash: accusations of harboring fugitives, strained ties under Yunus, and a precedent eroding India’s treaty credibility. The 2026 polls, shadowed by a July Charter referendum on reforms, loom as a multipolar battleground—BNP frontrunners, NCP reformers, Jamaat Islamists, sans Awami League. A flawed verdict could delegitimize the vote, breeding chaos that spills borders. India must thread the needle: invoke treaty exceptions for a fair retrial, perhaps via third-party mediation; bolster Yunus with economic aid to temper extremism; and quietly urge inclusive polls to avert boycott-fueled instability.
Hasina’s saga transcends one woman—it probes South Asia’s fault lines: justice versus power, accountability versus vendetta, stability versus upheaval. For India, it’s a litmus test of realpolitik wisdom. Prioritize legal niceties alone, and strategic gains evaporate; moral high ground alone, and neighbors sour. The path forward demands equilibrium: honoring global norms without sacrificing vital interests. As Bangladesh hurtles toward 2026, New Delhi’s choice could redefine a subcontinent teetering on hope and hazard.
