A few days ago, a friend from Bangladesh called to tell me he was leaving the country. "I can't take it anymore," he said, his voice laced with despair. My friend, a respected teacher and accomplished writer, is not fleeing poverty or war but the country he has called home all his life. And why? Simply because he is a member of the minority community. The injustice of it made me want to scream. "Don't even think about it!" I urged. "This country is as much yours as it is mine. We've faced worse challenges together. Why run away now?"

He sighed deeply. "No, my friend," he replied. "Today's situation is different. There's no one left to rely on. Those who could have helped are themselves fleeing. My wife is gone-cancer took her. Now, all I have are my two daughters. I'm leaving for their sake."

His words left me speechless. This was a family that didn't leave during the horrors of Partition in 1947, didn't flee during the riots of 1964, and returned home after being displaced in 1971. His father had founded a school where he taught, and my friend followed in his footsteps. He could have settled abroad long ago; the opportunities were there. But he stayed, saying, "My father built this school in Faridpur with his own hands. It's like his child. Where would I go, leaving it behind?"

So why now? Why this sudden urge to flee? In response, my friend listed names-principals, headteachers, senior educators-who, in recent days, were forced to resign under pressure from protesters. Many were his acquaintances, dedicated individuals who nurtured their students with the care of a parent. Yet, amid angry shouts and humiliations from those very students, they were forced to sign resignation letters. This isn't just happening to minority teachers; many Muslim educators have also been coerced into resigning. What kind of revolution persecutes its own mentors?

There is no answer. No one seems to know. The educational advisor of the Interim Government expressed concern that if this continues, the entire education system will collapse.

The unrest that began with the July-August revolution has spread across the country, deteriorating law and order. Opportunists have seized on this chaos to attack the nation's minorities, targeting their places of worship. In response, the protesting students organized protection efforts, standing by the minorities. While this brought some improvement, it did little to restore full confidence and courage among the minority communities. If it had, my friend wouldn't be contemplating leaving the country.

After Partition in 1947, a significant number of those who left East Pakistan were educators. The pre-Partition school system in what is now Bangladesh relied heavily on minority teachers, many of whom had been in the teaching profession for generations. In a 1972 research paper, Partition and Migration: Impact on Educational Development in East Pakistan, Rounaq Jahan reported that so many teachers left East Pakistan after Partition that many educational institutions were forced to shut down. The shortage was particularly acute in science and mathematics. In some districts, 25% of schools had to close due to a lack of teachers. The situation was even more dire at the university level, with about 50% of Dhaka University's faculty leaving the country. The departure of this 'intellectual capital' plunged the country's educational infrastructure into crisis.

This crisis resurfaced in 1971 when the Pakistani military targeted the Hindu community as part of their brutal crackdown. In his 1969 book, The Myth of Independence, Zulfikar Bhutto openly accused Hindu teachers of being a major force behind the rise of Bengali nationalism in East Pakistan. After Bangladesh's creation, he claimed that it was the education provided by Hindu teachers that led to the breakup of Pakistan. The persecution these teachers faced at the hands of Pakistani forces has been well documented, but that's a discussion for another time.

Over the past five decades since independence, Bangladesh has largely overcome this 'intellectual migration' in the teaching profession. While we no longer rely on minority teachers as we once did, their role in shaping the new generation remains crucial. The forced resignations of minority teachers, especially headmasters, in recent weeks have renewed a sense of insecurity among these educators. My friend's thoughts of leaving the country stem from this growing fear. If this storm isn't weathered, we may once again lose our 'intellectual capital' due to communal strife.

We lack precise data on how many minority teachers are falling victim and for what specific reasons. However, it's not unreasonable to assume that religion is a factor. A strong anti-India sentiment has swept through Bangladesh following the ouster of the previous dictatorship. From past experience, we know that anti-India sentiment and communalism are closely linked. During the Pakistan era, anti-India rhetoric was often used for political purposes, and we're witnessing a replay of that scenario now. Recently, various statements from some responsible quarters in Bangladesh have not been conducive to cooperative coexistence between our two countries. Similarly, there has been a blatant anti-Bangladesh campaign from India's political leadership and in the media. Add to this the toxic influence of social media, which seems bent on spreading hatred between the two neighbors. If this hostility isn't curbed now, it could have long-lasting communal consequences.

Fortunately, the head of the interim government, Professor Yunus, has strongly criticized all forms of communal activity. He has reminded us that this country belongs to people of all religions, not just Muslims. As a teacher, he understands better than anyone that if even a portion of minority educators leaves due to communal violence, it will harm our education system and, ultimately, Bangladesh.

Mahatma Gandhi once said that if you want to find out how civilized a nation is, look at the state of its minorities. Do they enjoy the same rights as the majority? It's the responsibility of the majority to ensure the security and well-being of the minority. As we envision a new, changing, and democratic Bangladesh, it is the duty of every Muslim to ensure that the minority community, especially educators, do not become victims of violence or discrimination. The survival of our nation depends on it.