On a tense Saturday night in early August, under the fractured glow of cellphone flashlights, two men—identified as 40-year-old cobbler Ruplal Das (also spelled Robidas) and his relative, 35-year-old Pradip Lal—were seized by a mob in Taraganj upazila, Rangpur. Accused of stealing a cycle van, they were dragged onto the grounds of Burirhat High School, where a frenzied crowd began to beat them mercilessly with sticks, rods, and bare hands.
A haunting video of the attack quickly spread across social media. It captured the two men begging for mercy, hands folded, proclaiming their innocence—Ruplal insisted, “I am not a thief; I’m a cobbler,” while Pradip remained equally helpless. Yet, instead of compassion, the mob jeered and escalated the violence—“Give it more!” they screamed, as repeated blows rained down.
Police did arrive—but only briefly. Eyewitnesses recount that officers blew whistles, attempted to intervene, and then retreated amid the swelling rage of some 2,000–3,000 onlookers. One witness noted, “They came, but left seeing the mob, later returning only to retrieve the bodies”—an act officials describe as necessary to preserve officer safety. Roughly an hour later, reinforcements including the army arrived—but by then Ruplal had died on arrival at Taraganj Upazila Health Complex, and Pradip succumbed after being taken to Rangpur Medical College Hospital.
In the aftermath, Ruplal’s wife, Bharati Rani, filed a murder case naming a staggering 500 to 700 individuals. Yet only four have been arrested: Ebadat Hossain, Akhtarul Islam, Rafiqul Islam, and Mizanur Rahman. The police say many suspects fled the scene.
Voices of outrage followed. The Human Rights Forum Bangladesh criticized the failure of law enforcement, pointing to the constitutional right to life and legal obligations under Bangladesh’s criminal procedure code—which the authorities violated by failing to take action at the scene. Meanwhile, editorialists labeled the act “Justice Dies in the Crowd,” noting that between January 1 and August 10, 111 people died due to mob violence; between August 2024 and June 2025, there were 143 deaths in 1,009 mob attacks—evidence, they warn, of a growing culture of impunity.
Why This Matters (and Feels So Familiar):
This isn’t a medieval tableau—it’s 2025. Yet the brutality feels ancestral, reawoken. What’s changed isn’t cruelty; it’s the lens. Mob justice thrives where institutions falter, and when that theatre unfolds in your hand through a screen, horror becomes habitual.
Yes, homicide rates globally have trended down over centuries. But the ends of justice often hinge on who holds the megaphone—or the mobile. The psycho-social toll of replaying violence can erode empathy, dull compassion, and embolden the next wannabe executioner.
In Bangladesh, the Taraganj tragedy isn’t isolated. From child lynchings to political violence, graphic spectacles fuel despair. The question echoes: Is humanity breaking? Or is it that violence, once hidden, is now painfully visible.
Truth is: both. Law and order walk on fragile ground. Vigilantism flourishes when public trust crumbles. And visibility on social platforms stokes rage, norms decay, and crowds transform into execution chambers.
A Clearer View in Summary:
| Detail | Information |
|---|---|
| Incident | Mob beating to death of Ruplal Das and Pradip Lal in Taraganj, Rangpur |
| Accusation | Suspected of van theft |
| Police Response | Arrived and retreated under duress; later returned to retrieve bodies |
| Outcome | Ruplal died on arrival; Pradip died hours later |
| Legal Action | Murder case filed; 500–700 suspects named; 4 arrests made |
| Institutional Criticism | Rights groups and experts decry failure of rule of law and rising mob violence |
We must hold both truths: Violence has receded in the long arc—but today, where institutions fail and feeds amplify rage, it’s alarmingly brutal. A line in the editorial sums it best: “When the feed becomes the forum and the verdict arrives before the facts, ‘justice’ is whatever the loudest chant decides.” We see, we numb, we scroll, and yet—human history shows: we can be better.