In the heart of Central and South Asia, two neighboring countries-Afghanistan and Tajikistan-are making headlines for their diametrically opposed approaches to religion. Their stark differences serve as a warning to nations, including Bangladesh, where political winds have stirred debates over the role of religion in public life.

Let's start with Afghanistan. Three and a half years after the collapse of the U.S.-backed government and the return of the Taliban to power, many predicted the regime would struggle under Western pressure. But those predictions have proven wrong. The Taliban have not only maintained control but also stabilized law and order and managed to restart their economy.

However, the darkest fears regarding the regime's treatment of women have not only come true-they have intensified. Despite constituting half the population, Afghan women's most basic rights-education and work-are systematically denied. Afghanistan now holds the grim distinction of being the only country where girls are barred from attending school beyond the primary level. Shortly after taking power, the Taliban government prohibited girls over the age of 12 from attending school. Future doctors and scientists saw their dreams abruptly cut off. A United Nations official has called this systematic oppression of women's rights "gender apartheid."

The oppression doesn't end with education. In August, the Taliban issued a 900-page decree advising women to "keep their voices down." Women are now barred from leaving their homes unless accompanied by a male guardian, and when they do venture out, they must cover themselves from head to toe-not even a simple hijab suffices. They are forbidden from laughing, singing, or even allowing their voices to be heard in public, including while reciting the Quran. A specially trained police force monitors compliance.

Men, too, are subject to strict regulations. Every boy approaching adulthood must grow a beard, kept at a prescribed length. Daily prayers are mandatory, as is fasting during Ramadan. Any deviation from these mandates can result in penalties-ranging from flogging to fines and imprisonment.

Now let's turn to Tajikistan, where the government has taken a path completely opposite to Afghanistan's. Tajik authorities have passed laws banning girls from wearing the hijab in schools and universities. Men are now forbidden from keeping long beards, with the government regulating beard length. Islamic clothing, or what is considered foreign dress, is also prohibited, with hefty fines for violators. Both men and women are discouraged from attending mosques.

In essence, while Afghanistan says, "Grow a beard, wear a burqa, and pray," Tajikistan is saying, "Shave your beard, take off the hijab, and stay away from the mosque."

The absurdity of Tajikistan's measures is captured by a New York Times report, which describes police in Dushanbe standing outside fast-food joints, scissors in hand, ready to trim the beard of any man in violation. Women wearing hijabs are chased by police officers. A Tajik Muslim woman named Niloufar told The Times that she fears police intervention every time she steps out wearing her hijab. The fines for these so-called offenses range from $600 to $1,400-a crushing amount in a country where the average monthly income is just $200.

So, why these starkly different approaches? Afghanistan wants to enforce religious observance, even by force. Tajikistan, on the other hand, sees Islamic practice as a threat to state security and fears it could fuel extremism. Both countries, however, end up at the same point: violating basic human rights, whether by imposing faith or suppressing it.

I recount these stories with a purpose. Recently, Bangladesh has seen a major political shift. A long-standing authoritarian regime has been ousted, and the country is now in a period of reform. In this climate of change, there have been growing calls to incorporate religion, specifically Islam, into state policy. A religious party has already proposed a five-point reform plan, one of which calls for the removal of anything deemed "anti-Islam" from the constitution and the legal system.

There are also changes in public behavior. For the first time, a university vice-chancellor is leading congregational prayers. At Dhaka University, the citadel of the recent student-led uprising, religious sermons and Qawwali performances are being held with the audiences segregated by gender. The boys, now leading the anti-government movement, have advised girls, who only a few days ago stood side by side with them facing the police, to dress modestly at school and work. This may mean only one thing, the good old burqa. Attacks on Sufi shrines and orders have raised concerns about a growing wave of religiosity.

This has led many to ask an uncomfortable question: Is Bangladesh headed toward a Taliban-like culture?

I believe neither Afghanistan nor Tajikistan should serve as our model. While religious practice undoubtedly has a collective aspect, it should never be enforced or controlled by the state. You cannot make someone more devout through coercion, just as you cannot strip away someone's faith through police intervention. Neither extreme is desirable for Bangladesh as it transitions.

The right to practice religion is a fundamental human right, recognized by our constitution. This means that how an individual observes their faith should be a personal choice, free from state interference. As Bangladesh embarks on a path of reform, we must hold onto this simple truth.

The challenge for Bangladesh is to find its own path-one that respects religious freedom, protects individual rights, and keeps the state at a distance from matters of personal faith. It is not an easy balance to strike, but it is the only way to build a truly just and inclusive society.

The writer is a journalist and author based in New York.