If India wants a genuine partnership, it must stop treating sovereignty as a flexible concept

Those who attended school in the late 1970s or early 1980s will remember Leo Tolstoy’s celebrated short story, Three Questions. In that timeless parable, a king seeks answers to three profound inquiries: What is the right time? Who is the most important person? What is the most important thing to do?

The answers he receives are beguilingly simple. The most important time is now. The most important person is the one before you.

The most important thing is to do good to that person. Tolstoy’s questions remain as relevant today as they were a century ago—not only to individuals but to nations seeking to build durable relationships.

Bangladesh emerged from a language movement, a liberation war, and the sacrifices of the July 2024 revolution to reaffirm its independent identity

The recent arrival of India’s High Commissioner to Bangladesh has sparked considerable debate in diplomatic and public circles. While his early remarks were intended to underscore the depth of bilateral ties, they have nonetheless unsettled many Bangladeshis.

The issue is not the individual diplomat, nor is it the desirability of strong relations between two neighbours whose futures are linked. Rather, the episode exposes deeper questions about how friendship is defined and experienced. It is time to revisit Tolstoy.

What is the right time?

This is the most consequential question facing Bangladesh–India relations today. For decades, both governments have described the relationship as unique, historic, and exceptionally close. Few would dispute this. Geography, economics, culture, and history have bound the two countries together in ways neither can ignore. Yet, genuine friendship cannot be sustained by rhetoric alone; it must be validated through mutual respect.

During a recent interaction, the Indian envoy observed that the combined populations of India and Bangladesh formed a community of 160 crore people capable of achieving great things. He added that he could not think of the two countries separately.

While the intention was almost certainly positive, diplomacy is governed by perception. For many Bangladeshis, this was not a matter of arithmetic but of symbolism.

Bangladesh emerged from a language movement, a liberation war, and the sacrifices of the July 2024 revolution to reaffirm its independent identity.

Its citizens do not view themselves as an extension of a demographic whole, but as members of a sovereign nation whose dignity derives from its own history. Imagine a Bangladeshi High Commissioner arriving in New Delhi and declaring that the populations should be viewed collectively because "we cannot think separately." The questions regarding sovereignty and diplomatic propriety would be immediate. Friendship cannot be a monologue; it must be a dialogue.

Who is the most important person?

Tolstoy’s answer was unequivocal: the most important person is the one standing before you. In the context of bilateral relations, that person is neither a diplomat nor a politician. It is the ordinary citizen—the trader at a land port, the student seeking a visa, the patient travelling for medical care, or the family living along the border.

Official statements may emphasise friendship, but ordinary people experience it differently. No diplomatic communiqué can soothe a family’s grief after a loved one is killed by BSF bullets. No strategic talk can address the harassment or unfair treatment faced by travellers at border crossings.

Genuine human respect cannot be replaced by political slogans. If two countries describe themselves as close friends, the deaths of unarmed civilians along their shared frontier should be treated not as routine incidents, but as moral failures demanding urgent remedy. Public opinion is shaped by these daily encounters, and relationships ultimately rest upon public trust.

What is the most important thing to do?

The answer is neither complex nor revolutionary: align actions with words. Bangladesh does not require lectures on friendship, nor does India require demonstrations of gratitude. Both countries require a relationship rooted in reciprocity and sovereign equality.

If friendship is genuine, border killings should be a grievance of the past. If friendship is genuine, travellers should be treated with dignity. If friendship is genuine, concerns should be addressed through dialogue rather than defensiveness. Historical goodwill should serve as a foundation for future cooperation, not a substitute for it.

The greatest danger confronting this relationship today is not hostility; it is complacency. The assumption that past achievements will indefinitely compensate for present frustrations is dangerous. Every generation evaluates international relationships through its own experiences. The generation that remembers 1971 is giving way to one that judges neighbours through contemporary realities. If policymakers fail to appreciate this, they may find that official narratives and public perceptions are moving in opposite directions.

Tolstoy’s king learned that wisdom lies not in grand theories but in understanding human relationships. The most important time for Bangladesh and India is now, before accumulated frustrations harden into enduring mistrust. The most important people are the citizens who experience the relationship every day. And the most important task is not to proclaim friendship, but to practise it.

The arithmetic of friendship is not 140 plus 20. It is 140 and 20. Separate in sovereignty. Equal in dignity. United only by mutual respect.

 

Writer: Commodore Syed Misbah Uddin Ahmad, (C), NUP, ndc, afwc, psc, BN (retd), Director General, Bangladesh Institute of Maritime Research and Development (BIMRAD). Email: misbah28686@gmail.com