On Wednesday, 19th November, the administration led by Muhammad Yunus in Bangladesh arrested the well-known Baul singer Abul Sarkar on allegations of ‘blasphemy.’ According to the information available, Sarkar was accused of making ‘derogatory remarks’ against Islam and Allah while performing on stage. After his arrest, he was taken to court the next day and was subsequently sent to jail on remand.

The case against him was filed by Mufti Mohammed Abdullah, who claimed that Abul Sarkar had disrupted communal harmony and committed blasphemy during his performance at the Khala Pagli fair on 4th November. Almost immediately after his arrest, large groups linked to Tawhidi Janata and Alems-Ulama gathered outside the court. These groups began chasing and shouting at Sarkar, demanding the strictest punishment for the Baul artist.

Sarkar’s assistant, Raju Sarkar, stated that Muslim extremists edited and cropped the original recording of the performance to make it look as if Abul Sarkar had spoken against Islam. He explained that the singer had actually asked a question to another Baul performer and had spoken at length against religious extremism. However, his remarks were taken out of context, allowing his critics to frame him with the claim of ‘blasphemy.’

Tensions grew further on Sunday, 23rd November, when violent Muslim mobs launched attacks on the supporters of Abul Sarkar in Manikganj, located in the Dhaka Division. These followers were holding a peaceful protest demanding the singer’s release. The attackers used sticks and bricks, leaving four individuals injured in the clash.

Manikganj Additional SP (Crime and Operations), Md Abdullah Al Mamun, described the confrontation and said, “One group was demanding his punishment, another demanding his release. A section of the Tawhidi Janata attacked the supporters. We intervened immediately.”

Videos from the scene have since appeared across social media. One of the most disturbing clips captured members of the mob chanting:
“একটা দুইটা বাউল ধর, ধইরা ধইরা জবাই কর (Pick one Baul at a time and slaughter them)”, a chilling indication of how deeply the hostility had escalated.

For many, this violence is particularly alarming because Baul singers represent one of Bangladesh’s oldest and most distinct cultural traditions. Their music has always symbolised simplicity, spiritual reflection, and coexistence. Yet today, many Bauls feel increasingly unsafe under the ongoing political environment.

There have been numerous earlier reports showing how accusations of blasphemy are being used as a weapon in Bangladesh. This pattern has particularly affected Hindus, Bauls, and other minority communities, often putting them at risk through fabricated or exaggerated claims. As the pressure to ban what is considered ‘haram’ music grows stronger, the atmosphere of intolerance continues to tighten around those who promote cultural and artistic freedom.

Rise of Extremism: How a Coup-Backed Regime Turns Bangladesh Against Its Own Cultural Heart

This is not an isolated incident but the continuation of a calculated plan that began with the violent coup of July 2024, a coup that removed an elected government and replaced it with a system built on three powerful forces: large-scale foreign funding, street violence led by Islamist militant groups, and the silent approval of the military.

At the height of the unrest, thousands of students were encouraged to join the movement under the promise of quota reform. But very quickly, Jamaat-Shibir activists took over the protests, transforming them into a wave of targeted violence—attacks on police forces, arson on government buildings, and deliberate chaos across the streets.

When the dust settled, the military placed Muhammad Yunus as the public face of authority. His rise did not come from political experience or democratic backing. Instead, his reputation as a favourite of Western powers and his system of extracting compound interest from some of the poorest communities were presented as his only qualifications for power.

But Yunus is only the visible mask. Real control now lies with Jamaat-e-Islami and those who follow hardline Wahhabi ideas. A look at the advisory council under this regime reveals the truth—supporters of Jamaat, sympathisers of Hefazat, and individuals who openly wish to dismantle the war crimes trials. To expect them to protect Baul artists or uphold cultural harmony is unrealistic.

Why have Bauls become a target? The answer is found in their philosophy. Baul beliefs stand completely opposite to Wahhabi ideology. Bauls teach that God lives within every person, and that the human heart holds more value than any structure of worship. The revered Lalon Fakir once asked: “If a mosque is demolished, does Allah weep? But when a human being is broken, who cries?”

To Wahhabi thinkers, this worldview is unacceptable. Their ideology demands strict control, rigid religious supervision, and total obedience to external rituals. Bauls speak of freedom of the soul; Wahhabis speak of unquestioning discipline. These two ways of thinking cannot live side by side.

For Jamaat and its ideological partners, the cultural heritage of Bengal is labelled as shirk, bid’ah, or haram.

– Pohela Boishakh? A Hindu festival.
– Baul songs? A distortion of Islam.
– Rabindranath? A kafir poet.
– Nazrul? Acceptable as a Muslim, but many of his writings remain “objectionable.”

These groups now influence the direction of the country, dismissing a thousand-year-old Bengali culture. Their dream is a religious state where art, music, literature, and free thought are tightly monitored under their interpretation of sharia—very much like the Afghanistan where the Taliban have banned music, restricted women, and replaced education with ideological training.

Historically, Islam entered Bengal through the compassion of Sufi saints—Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti, Shahjalal, and Khan Jahan Ali—whose message centred on love and humanity. Bauls are the modern bearers of that tradition: Lalon Shah, Hason Raja, Radharaman, and Pagla Kanai. Their music urged Bengal’s people to look past rituals and instead find divinity in human beings.

Yet today, a completely different version of Islam is being pushed—a harsh Wahhabi import funded by oil money and strengthened by recent foreign political manoeuvring. What is being promoted as “protecting religious feelings” is actually an effort to enforce a single, rigid ideology over the tolerant and deeply rooted Sufi-inspired Islam of Bengal.

Under the leadership of Yunus, violence against religious minorities has become frequent. Homes of Hindus and Christians have been burned, temples and churches attacked, businesses destroyed. However, those who jail a Baul singer for “hurting religious sentiments” remain silent when the sentiments of Hindus or Christians are violated. The double standard is unmistakable. “Religious sentiment” has been turned into a political weapon to crush voices of dissent and tighten the grip on power.

This regime holds no legitimacy. It was never elected, is not grounded in the Constitution, and is led by an eighty-year-old symbolic figure surrounded by advisors with no public support and no accountability. Their authority depends solely on military force, creating a hybrid dictatorship—one part military rule and one part religious extremism.

In this environment, Baul artists and folk singers—who embody the spirit of Bengal—are unsafe. A land that once celebrated Pohela Boishakh with colour and joy, a land that once filled fairs with Baul music, now sends its folk singers to prison. A country that once took pride in its diversity now watches minorities face daily persecution as the state turns its eyes away.

Yet, despite the fear, the people of Bangladesh understand what is unfolding around them. They know that open criticism risks being labelled as an “Indian agent” or an “Awami League tout.” They know the dangers—forced disappearances, unjust arrests, and the constant threat of mob violence. These tools keep society silent.

But history does not stay silent forever. Power built on fear eventually collapses. The people of this land have risen before—during the 1971 struggle against Pakistani military rule and the 1990 movement against the Ershad dictatorship. And they will rise again.

Abul Sarkar may be imprisoned today, but his songs are still alive. As long as Baul music drifts across the fields and rivers of Bengal, the soul of the land continues to breathe. No amount of Wahhabi pressure can erase a culture that has grown from its soil and its people.

Yunus and the forces behind him may believe they have succeeded. But history will judge, and its judgment will not be gentle.