Khaleda Zia—the first female Prime Minister of Bangladesh, the most enduring opposition voice since independence—was spending the final days of her life on a hospital bed. Her breathing was uncertain, her vision blurred, her body ravaged by pain. In the words of physicians—she was dependent on life support, fighting a relentless battle against time.

At that very moment—
nomination papers were submitted in her name for three parliamentary constituencies.
The nation did not pause to question.
The state remained silent.
The Election Commission raised no objection.
The very next day—
a brief piece of news drifted across the airwaves:
“Khaleda Zia has passed away.”
Questions Upon Questions, But No Answers
The woman who was struggling for life, whose physical and mental capacity to make medical decisions was itself under grave doubt—
how did she become a candidate in three constituencies at once?
Was this truly her decision?
Or were some completing their political calculations while standing upon a body already on the brink of death?
If this was a symbolic nomination—
then why did the state not say, “This is unethical”?
Why did the Election Commission not say, “This is inhumane”?
And if this was a strategic nomination—
then in whose interest was it made?
Why Must Even the Dying Become Victims of Politics
In the political history of Bangladesh, Khaleda Zia has been victimized time and again—
through fabricated cases, imprisonment, deprivation of medical care, and denial of permission for treatment abroad.
Yet even while standing at the threshold of death, she found no respite.
Beside a person on a deathbed should have been family, prayers, and silent love.
Instead, her name lay on ballot papers, in electoral ledgers, in the arithmetic of power.
At that moment, a human being ceases to be human—
she becomes a political symbol, a reflection of votes, a final usable name.
Does This State Not Hear the Sound of Weeping?
In a country where even a dying person is turned into a political shield,
had humanity not died much earlier?
The death of Khaleda Zia is not merely the death of a politician.
It was—
the death of political decency,
the death of moral boundaries,
and above all—
the death of the possibility of a humane state.
Even before her final breath, she had become a burden—
not merely a burden, but a used object.
Final Words
History will one day ask—
why were the final moments of a woman, a former Prime Minister, a terminally ill human being so cruel?
And we—
were we merely spectators then?
Or were we silent accomplices?
The death of Khaleda Zia brings tears to our eyes—
but it leaves behind even more unanswered questions.
Does this country allow no one to remain outside politics, even on a deathbed?