A phone call full of hope, followed by an abrupt end that leaves behind a hundred unanswered questions. In a village in Bangladesh’s Tangail district, Fazlu Mia has no option but to wait. For answers. And for the body of his youngest daughter, Suweti Akter, fondly known as Sweety. On October 13, she called to say that she would return home in three months. But now, she won’t. Her family is devastated. Nearly 200 km away, in Brahmanbaria, the family of Nazrul Islam Abdul Basir, too, is swinging between grief and anger.
The lives of Sweety and Nazrul—who migrated to Saudi Arabia years ago—were cut short when they were executed on October 14 for crimes they probably did not commit. The two, who worked as cleaners for Al Majal, a Saudi company, were detained in 2023—Nazrul over an allegation of cybercrime and Sweety for “adultery”. Both spent the next three years in separate facilities in Jeddah. Their names were never on the death sentence list. They were executed nevertheless. The Saudi authorities claimed they had been convicted of committing immoral acts inside a mosque in Mecca, violating its sanctity.
The mismatch between the charges they were originally arrested for and the Saudi version of execution raises multiple questions. The Saudi announcement did not mention the exact nature of the crime, how the defendants were represented, what evidence was presented and whether they had meaningful opportunities to contest their sentences.
While no official notification was sent to Bangladesh before or after their sudden execution, the families came to know about their deaths through photos circulating on social media and the local press. Outrage followed. Tasneem Siddiqui, executive director of the Refugee and Migratory Movements Research Unit in Bangladesh, says a lack of notification did not remove the diplomatic mission’s responsibility. Golam Moshi, a former Bangladesh ambassador to Saudi Arabia, questions how a case involving prolonged legal proceedings could have escaped the mission’s attention. Bangladesh continues to claim that Saudi Arabia kept it in the dark.
The story, however, is much bigger than Sweety and Nazrul. It raises questions about Bangladesh’s ability to protect millions of its citizens abroad. Saudi Arabia is Bangladesh’s largest overseas employment destination—nearly 35 lakh people work in construction, cleaning, transport, maintenance, hospitality and private households. They send money home to ageing parents, school-going children, spouses and siblings, making Saudi Arabia its major source of remittances.
Of the record $35.5 billion received in remittances in 2025–26, Saudi Arabia was the largest source, accounting for 16 per cent of the total amount. Its role extends beyond employment to energy supplies, investment, religious travel and wider diplomatic cooperation. Every year, a large number of Bangladeshis travel to the kingdom for Haj and Umrah. The two countries maintain established cooperation on labour recruitment and consular affairs. Is this why Bangladesh did not lodge even the most basic protest after the executions?
The answer to this question matters to India. What if Sweety and Nazrul were Indian citizens? Saudi Arabia is home to nearly 28 lakh Indians; nearly six lakh are employed as domestic workers. The executions should make the Indian government anxious—Saudi Arabia holds more imprisoned Indian nationals than any other foreign country, with 2,633 Indians in its prisons, including convicts and undertrial prisoners. Eleven of them are on death row. What stance would India take if a Bangladesh kind of situation arises? Would diplomacy take centre stage?
Beyond diplomatic ties and politics are ordinary people who live in countries far away from home, often under unfavourable conditions. For those from vulnerable backgrounds, unfamiliarity with the language, the legal system and their rights often makes access to lawyers, fair trials and consular support impossible, as in the case of Sweety and Nazrul. They, like many others, became victims of a rigid Saudi system.
A Pattern of Abuse
Shila Begum left Bangladesh for Saudi Arabia to work as a domestic worker in mid-2025, hoping to earn enough to support her siblings. She returned less than a year later. “They were not human. They made us work day and night and did not give us enough food. It was like living in a prison; being held captive,” she said upon returning. She is among the nearly 1,600 women who returned to Bangladesh between January and September; of these, nearly 1,000 returned from Saudi Arabia alone.
A Bangladeshi man, no older than 20, was taken to a remote desert location in Saudi Arabia to herd goats. He was reportedly raped by the employer and his friends multiple times. He even attempted suicide. Eventually, he was rescued by M. Rayhan Kabir, who works with a non-governmental organisation in Bangladesh.
Both cases show patterns documented by international human-rights organisations: excessive working hours, restrictions on movement, inadequate food, isolation and, in some cases, physical and sexual abuse.
Last year, Human Rights Watch published findings based on interviews with the families of 31 migrant workers from Bangladesh, India and Nepal who had died in Saudi Arabia. The organisation documented deaths involving electrocution, falls and industrial accidents, as well as cases in which families struggled to obtain compensation. It found that some deaths appeared to have been classified as natural despite evidence suggesting workplace-related causes.
Kabir says there is no database documenting the experiences of those who come back; of women who return pregnant or die by suicide because they could no longer endure the abuse. “I possess information that my country does not have. This is the state of our foreign policy and migrant-worker protection,” he adds. The risks are particularly acute for women working in private homes, where labour inspection is difficult and contact with outsiders may be limited.
Their vulnerability is reinforced by Saudi Arabia’s sponsorship arrangements. Under the decades-old kafala system, the legal residency and employment of migrant workers have historically been tied to individual sponsors or employers. While Saudi Arabia officially abolished kafala last year, replacing it with a modern, contract-based employment model, rights organisations say the sponsorship framework continues to give employers substantial control.
Saudi Arabia has modernised several aspects of its legal and social systems in recent years. For instance, in 2020, Saudi courts ended flogging as a ta’zir (discretionary) punishment and replaced it with imprisonment, fines or both. The same year, a royal order ended ta’zir death sentences for people who were under 18 when they committed an offence, providing for prison terms of up to 10 years in juvenile facilities instead. However, some laws and institutions rooted in traditional religious interpretations and patriarchal customs continue to face criticism for restricting individual freedoms, particularly those of women and migrant workers. One such law proved to be the final nail in the coffin for Sweety and Nazrul.
They were executed under ta’zir, which is a form of punishment under Islamic criminal law where the determination of the offence and sentence is left in the hands of a judge. It allows a judge to impose punishment for an offence that does not carry a fixed penalty under the categories of hudud (offences traditionally associated with prescribed punishments under Islamic law) or qisas (retribution for certain offences involving killing or bodily injury, subject to applicable rules and the rights of victims or their families).
Law and Diplomacy
Afraid—that’s how Bangladeshis in Saudi Arabia are feeling after the executions. Mohammad Riyad Hossain (name changed), who has worked in Dammam for seven years, says: “People are busy with their own work, but they are afraid to talk about this.” He, however, blames Bangladesh’s diplomatic handling of the cases.
Hasan Shahriar (name changed), another Bangladeshi expatriate living in Riyadh, identifies a different failure. “Government agencies don’t adequately explain Saudi laws and regulations to workers before they leave Bangladesh. Many migrants arrive without sufficient knowledge of the country’s legal system or the consequences of violating local laws,” he says.
There is a reason why people are afraid of Saudi laws. According to figures compiled by human-rights organisations, Saudi Arabia has remained among the world’s most prolific executioners, with foreign nationals accounting for a substantial share of those put to death. A recent memorandum released after the execution of Sweety and Nazrul mentions that of the 306 Bangladeshis detained in western Saudi Arabia in cases involving morality-related allegations, 147 have received prison sentences ranging from one month to 15 years. As of October 2026, at least 19 Bangladeshi nationals had been executed in Saudi Arabia since 2010. These include Sweety and Nazrul.
28L Number of Indians working in Saudi Arabia
The law under which they were executed has become a talking point, highlighting the difference in legal processes between two Muslim nations. Bangladesh’s system is structured like that of a secular democracy and Islamic law does not dictate its legal system. Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, predominantly follows the Sharia law system and the country decides criminal, civil and personal cases based on the same.
Sweety, who was detained just months after her arrival in Saudi Arabia, received no legal assistance from the Bangladesh government during her imprisonment, her father tells Outlook. The family says that Sweety had previously attributed her detention to a physical altercation. Another account, passed on to relatives by a friend in Saudi Arabia, linked the arrest to a relationship with a Bangladeshi man. Her father first spoke to Sweety a year after her imprisonment, when she informed the family that she would be sent back to Bangladesh. While Nazrul’s family declined to comment, as per reports, the 22-year-old, who spent about three years and three months in detention, would speak to the family on a call every Sunday. While the Saudi interior ministry maintains that the executions followed judicial proceedings and the necessary approvals, a former Bangladeshi diplomat who was once posted in Saudi Arabia says a charge under a cybercrime law is not necessarily the same as an allegation of sexual misconduct inside a religious institution.
While Bangladesh sought detailed information from Saudi Arabia about the executions, including the charges against them, court verdicts, manner of execution, whereabouts of their bodies and whether they had legal representation during their trials, Saudi Arabia has not released any official version. It probably won’t.
These families are so poor that the existence of these individuals would eventually be forgotten, but a lot also depends on how willing a country is to step up for its citizens abroad. In mid-October, Saudi Arabia’s highest court overturned the death sentence imposed on Anojan Sivarasa, a Sri Lankan man arrested for blasphemy against Islam. While thanking the Saudi government in a social-media post, Sri Lankan President Anura Kumara Dissanayake also thanked “many Saudi Arabian and Sri Lankan diplomats, civil servants and legal teams for their dedicated efforts”. Nearly 2.46 lakh Sri Lankans work in Saudi Arabia; a far lower number than the 27 lakh-strong workforce from Bangladesh, India and Pakistan.
From 2020 to 2024, nine Indian nationals were executed (or given capital punishment) in Saudi Arabia. After the recent executions, the Indian embassy in Riyadh requested the Indian community residing in Saudi Arabia to abide by local rules and regulations. “The law of the land must be respected,” says former diplomat Anil Trigunayat. The safety and security of overseas Indians, including those in Saudi Arabia, which is home to a large number of Indians, has always been the priority of Indian diplomacy, he adds.
Incidentally, in 2025, Saudi Arabia deported over 11,000 Indian nationals, marking the highest number of deportations from any single country that year. Reasons included visa or residency overstays, working without valid permits and labour or contractual infractions. The same year Saudi Arabia recorded its highest-ever influx of Bangladeshi labour, receiving over 7.5 lakh workers. In the absence of employment opportunities at home, Bangladeshis will continue to go to Saudi Arabia. The executions won’t—or can’t be—a deterrent.
A Long Wait for Families
In Tangail, Johura Begum has been holding on to a photograph of her daughter Sweety ever since the news arrived. Sweety’s voice from the last telephonic conversation still echoes in her ears. The family had paid a local broker 1.5 lakh taka ($1,200) to arrange for her journey to Saudi Arabia. Her departure was full of promises. The arrival of her body would bring more questions than answers. After her marriage broke down, Sweety had briefly adopted her sister’s daughter. She will have no memories of her “mother” when she grows up. While Nazrul’s family has largely been silent over his execution, as per reports, his father too had borrowed a large sum to send his eldest son abroad in search of work. While he is dealing with creditors who are pressuring him to repay the debt, he demands full justice. Nazrul’s mother, Rahima Begum, repeatedly broke down upon learning of her son’s death.
Calling people like Sweety and Nazrul remittance warriors, Bangladesh-based journalist Zafar Sobhan says: “Their money sustains millions of households and props up the country’s reserves. They carry two countries on their backs. They are not asking for favours. They are asking to be seen by a system that only sees their passports. Justice that depends on who is watching is not justice. So let us start watching.” He also wrote a poignant post on Facebook after the executions.
It read: “Somewhere tonight, another Bangladeshi man is finishing a shift he did not choose in a country that does not care to learn his name. What he has left goes to a mother who needs medicine...a child who needs school fees. Somewhere tonight, a woman is slaving away inside a locked house, her phone in her employer’s hands, counting the days until her contract ends.”
(With inputs from Arif Rahman Shibli)
MORE FROM THIS ISSUE
Faisal Mahmud is the managing editor of Daily Waadaa, a national daily in Bangladesh
