Complex Legacy
Under normal circumstances, the death of a former head of government invites respectful tribute, a neat historical summation and predictable diplomatic statements. But Begum Khaleda Zia was never a neat figure, nor did she lead a conventional political life. With her passing, Bangladesh loses not only its first woman prime minister but one of the two towering personalities who shaped its politics since the early 1990s. Her journey from reluctant political widow to one of the subcontinent’s most combative democratic actors was extraordinary in scale and consequence. Twice she led elected governments, stewarded the return to a parliamentary system and, for a generation of Bangladeshis, represented resilience in the face of coups, military interference and institutional fragility. Yet hers was also a career shadowed by controversy — by allegations of corruption, partisan polarisation and an unforgiving political style that frequently pushed Bangladesh’s democratic system to its breaking point. To evaluate Khaleda Zia’s life is to engage honestly with Bangladesh’s unfinished democratic project itself, with its aspirations, its insecurities and its recurring battles over legitimacy and power.
Her political legacy cannot be separated from the epic rivalry with Sheikh Hasina, a contest so intense it earned the shorthand “Battle of the Begums”. For more than three decades, Bangladesh’s politics was defined by this duel — fierce, ideological, emotional and sometimes destructively personal. Khaleda’s leadership drew legitimacy from street mobilisation, her grip over the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, and a powerful appeal to sovereignty and national pride. That appeal often translated into a cautious, even confrontational approach towards India in her earlier years, particularly on issues of connectivity, water sharing and defence alignment. She resisted overland transit concessions, framed treaties through the lens of autonomy, and never missed an opportunity to remind Bangladeshis of the dangers of overdependence on Delhi. Critics accused her of exploiting anti-India sentiment; supporters insisted she was doing what any leader of a smaller neighbour should — bargaining hard, refusing to be taken for granted, and ensuring national interest remained paramount. And yet, her politics was not frozen in defiance. In later years, especially after 2012, she recognised the need for engagement, travelled to Delhi, met Indian leadership and nudged the BNP toward a more pragmatic regional posture. That ability to shift, however late, indicated a leader capable of recalibration when confronted with geopolitical reality.
This complicated legacy matters enormously to India. Bangladesh is not a peripheral neighbour; it is central to India’s east, central to connectivity, security and regional stability. New Delhi’s experience with Khaleda Zia oscillated between suspicion and cautious accommodation. Her government’s tilt towards China in the early 2000s, defence acquisitions and perceived ambivalence toward extremist networks alarmed policymakers in Delhi and convinced many that the BNP, under her watch, was willing to leverage strategic anxieties to gain domestic advantage. Yet India could never entirely disengage or dismiss her. When she reached out, India responded; when she promised action against militants using Bangladeshi soil, Delhi took note. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s warm public words upon her illness and death are not diplomatic courtesies alone; they acknowledge that, whether friendly or difficult, Khaleda Zia was a consequential interlocutor. The India–Bangladesh relationship has matured beyond personalities, but personalities still shape tone, trust and tempo. Her passing inevitably alters the emotional geography of bilateral ties, removing a figure who, for better or worse, forced both sides to confront uncomfortable questions about power, respect and partnership.
For Bangladesh, the implications of her death are more intimate and urgent. Khaleda’s absence leaves a vacuum in a political culture already strained by centralised authority, democratic fatigue and a generation of young citizens impatient with corruption, patronage and polarisation. The BNP now faces its sternest test: whether it can reinvent itself beyond the shadow of its matriarch, build credible leadership, and articulate a programme anchored in democratic responsibility rather than perpetual grievance. Bangladesh, like India and much of South Asia, stands at a delicate juncture where economic ambition, social aspiration and geopolitical competition intersect sharply with questions of political freedom and institutional credibility. In that sense, Khaleda Zia’s story — its courage, its misjudgments, its defiance, its eventual frailty — mirrors the contradictions of the republic she helped steer. As Bangladesh mourns, India too must reflect, not sentimentally but soberly. The stability, prosperity and democratic health of Bangladesh are deeply intertwined with India’s own security and regional vision. The most fitting tribute to Begum Khaleda Zia may be for both nations to pursue a relationship grounded not merely in strategic calculus, but in mutual respect, democratic resilience and the conviction that sovereignty and cooperation need not be adversaries.
