A firestorm of outrage engulfed Lalmatia on Monday, March 3, as enraged protesters demanded the resignation of Home Affairs Adviser Jahangir Alam Chowdhury.
Outside Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban, demonstrators torched an effigy of the adviser, condemning his remarks defending an attack on two young women caught smoking in public—an incident that has ignited a fierce national debate over rights, gender, and societal power dynamics.
The controversy began on Saturday in Lalmatia’s B Block, where two women were assaulted after lighting cigarettes at a tea stall.
Passers-by reportedly doused them with tea, allegedly incensed as they returned from prayers. When questioned by reporters, Chowdhury not only failed to condemn the violence but appeared to justify it. “They were smoking. Some people stopped them, and tea was thrown,” he said. “Smoking in public is a crime for everyone—don’t do it.”
For many, his words didn’t uphold law and order—they seemed to sanction mob vigilantism.
By Monday afternoon, Asadgate’s Lalmatia B Block was a cauldron of fury.
Women from Bangladesh, a grassroots platform representing diverse classes and professions, rallied together, accusing Chowdhury of “justifying attacks on women” and demanding his immediate removal. A procession wound through Lalmatia’s streets, with chants echoing: “Jwala, Jwala, Agun Jwala” (Let’s start fire), “Jahangir must resign now,” and “Where there’s a barrier, we’ll fight.”
Placards punctuated the air—“Slut-shaming must stop,” “My roads, my rights,” “Show the law for women.” At the gates of parliament, flames consumed Chowdhury’s effigy—a fiery rebuke of his stance.
Lamia Islam, a student from Prime University, addressed the rally, her voice sharp with indignation. “The Home Affairs Adviser—an arm of the state—has turned into a cheerleader for mob justice,” she charged.
“If smoking is a crime, it’s a minor offense. Beating someone? That’s criminal. How does he defend that?” Her argument struck a chord: Chowdhury’s position, critics say, shields vigilantes rather than upholding justice.
For protesters, the issue highlights a glaring double standard: men smoke openly without consequence, while women face public humiliation, violence, and moral policing. “Where’s the law for men?” one placard demanded.
The ashes of Chowdhury’s effigy still smolder, and the clamor shows no signs of abating. “We’re not here to burn quietly,” Lamia vowed. The smoke has cleared, but the fight is far from over.