12 of Barishal DFO’s 17 jilted wives take to the streets
He’s supposed to protect forests, not harvest hearts. But Barisal’s Divisional Forest Officer, Md Kabir Hossain Patwari, now stands accused of running what can only be described as a romantic racket, allegedly marrying 17 women across Bangladesh, then vanishing faster than monsoon mist… leaving behind broken homes, unpaid dowries, and a trail of trauma.
And guess what? Twelve of them showed up, side by side, arm in arm, outside the Kashipur Forest Office on Thursday, forming a human chain of heartbreak, demanding justice, accountability… and maybe just a little public shaming.
“I married him on Valentine’s Day,” said Khadija Akhter, eyes blazing, “and by February 16, I was homeless, because I refused to sign over my father’s property. He didn’t want love. He wanted land.”
Another wife, Nasrin Akhter Dolon, didn’t mince words: “He’s a professional groom. Gets posted somewhere new, finds a hopeful woman, marries her with fairy tales, jobs abroad, air hostess dreams, luxury flats, then, boom: dowry demand, beatings, eviction. Rinse. Repeat.”
From Dhaka to Khulna, Narayanganj to Sirajganj, women say Kabir operated like a man with a mission, and a multiple-entry marriage visa. His alleged playbook? Charm. Uniform. Government ID. False promises. And an exit strategy smoother than a forest trail after rain.
“He doesn’t keep wives, he collects them,” said one protester, holding a sign: “Wanted: One Honest Man (Must Be Single).”
The women, teachers, clerks, homemakers, say they’ve filed police reports, court petitions, even ministry complaints. Kabir was briefly arrested… then swiftly released on bail, allegedly with “help from influential circles.” Translation: power protects its own.
“He’s already scouting for Wife No. 18 here in Barisal,” warned Nasrin. “If you’re a single woman with property, run.”
Attempts to reach the accused? His phone was off.
His lawyer, Enayet Hossain Bachchu, offered the standard line: “All allegations are baseless.”
Barisal’s Deputy Commissioner, Md Delwar Hossain, played it cautiously: “No written complaint? No action. Bring us paperwork, and we’ll investigate.” Memo to victims: send it by courier. And maybe CC the Prime Minister.
This isn’t just a scandal. It’s a systemic failure.
How did a government officer allegedly pull off seventeen fraudulent marriages without raising a single red flag? Where were the background checks? The moral compasses?
The women aren’t asking for sympathy. They’re demanding prosecution. Dismissal. Exemplary punishment.
And they’re not going away.
“We’ll come back,” said Khadija, voice steady. “Louder. With more sisters. Until he’s stripped of his badge and his freedom.”