Elderly fishers, women and youth in Bangladesh’s Sundarbans risk pirates, wildlife and climate disasters daily, trapped between deadly forest work and hunger, with few alternatives or protection from authorities today.
Along the fragile southwestern coast of Bangladesh, survival for thousands of forest-dependent families is a daily negotiation with danger. In the Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove forest and a UNESCO World Heritage site, work means risking one’s life, while staying home often means going hungry.
As the world looks to the Sundarbans for climate resilience, biodiversity protection and carbon storage, the lives of those who sustain it remain largely invisible.
An estimated 3.5 million people directly or indirectly depend on the Sundarbans for their livelihoods. Many of them live below the poverty line, facing growing threats from climate change, declining resources and persistent insecurity.
One such family is Bonbibi Mondol, 65 and her husband Nirmal Mondol, 70, residents of Chunkuri village in Munshiganj Union of Shyamnagar upazila, Satkhira. Their village lies on the banks of the Chunkuri River, directly bordering the Sundarbans.
For nearly four decades, the couple has survived by fishing and collecting crabs from the forest’s rivers and canals. Age, illness or fear have never afforded them the luxury of stopping.
A small wooden boat remains their lifeline, nets stacked on one side and crab traps on the other. Bonbibi still rows the boat herself. “My age hasn’t stopped me. Crocodiles in the water, tigers on land and pirates everywhere, none of it could force us to quit,” she says.
Entering the Sundarbans for work is widely regarded as one of the most dangerous livelihoods in Bangladesh. Forest workers face the constant threat of tiger attacks, crocodile encounters and armed forest pirates, alongside unpredictable weather and tidal currents.
Yet economic necessity leaves little room for choice. Even though Nirmal Mondol is chronically ill, he continues to accompany his wife into the forest. “If we don’t work for a day, there is no food at home,” Bonbibi says.
The couple once hoped their only son, Sanjay Mondol, would take over the work and allow them to rest. That hope was shattered seven to eight years ago when Sanjay was abducted by forest pirates while fishing in the Sundarbans.
The pirates demanded ransom. Unable to raise money immediately, the family watched helplessly as their son was brutally tortured. Although villagers eventually managed to collect the ransom, Sanjay returned permanently injured and unable to do heavy physical labor.
“We were terrified of losing him. That’s why we never let him return to the forest,” Bonbibi recalls.
With their son incapacitated, the burden of survival once again fell entirely on the elderly couple.
Their struggle mirrors that of thousands of families across the Sundarbans region.
Nearby, Gopal Mondol, nearly 60, was repairing fishing nets beside his boat. “I was born into this forest. My father and grandfather did the same work. I know the risks, but without the forest, we cannot survive,” he says.
Four months ago, one of his fellow fishermen was abducted and tortured by pirates before being released for ransom. Fear kept Gopal away from the forest for months, until mounting debt forced him back.
His wife, Saraswati Mondol, lives with constant anxiety. “Every day he is in the forest, my heart trembles. But if he doesn’t go, there is no rice at home,” she says.
The crisis spans generations. Rafiqul Islam, 28, supports his ailing mother and a two-year-old child. “There are no alternative jobs. Fish and crabs from the forest are our only hope. If the government provided other work, no one would risk their life like this,” he says.
Forest-dependent women echo the same dilemma. Komola Rani, a local worker, says, “We are human too. We have the right to live. If we go to the forest, we risk death. If we don’t, we face starvation.”
Local communities report that while forest piracy declined in recent years, it has not been fully eradicated. Following recent political instability and administrative transitions, several pirate groups have reportedly become active again, raising renewed fears among forest workers.
At the same time, climate change has intensified pressures on the Sundarbans. Sea-level rise, salinity intrusion, river erosion, frequent cyclones and declining fish and crab stocks have made livelihoods increasingly unstable. Many families are now trapped in cycles of debt to survive lean seasons.
As Bangladesh presents the Sundarbans as a natural shield against climate change, the issue has grown into a broader climate justice concern.
Sundarbans researcher and journalist Piyush Baulia Pintoo says the situation reflects decades of neglect. “These forest-dependent people are not just poor, they are victims of long-term insecurity and policy failure. Without sustainable alternative livelihoods, social protection and effective security, they are forced to repeatedly risk their lives. Forest workers are the silent guardians of the Sundarbans.”
The future of the Sundarbans is inseparable from the future of people like Bonbibi Mondol, Gopal Mondol and Rafiqul Islam. In the constant struggle between water, forest and survival, they continue to endure quietly, courageously and at great cost.
Sohanur Rahman, Executive Coordinator of YouthNet Global, says the crisis highlights deep structural inequality. “Climate justice is not only about protecting ecosystems, it is about protecting people whose lives are tied to those ecosystems.” He concluded, “Forest-dependent communities in the Sundarbans mangrove are paying the highest price for a climate crisis they did not create. Without alternative livelihoods, social protection and dignity in adaptation planning, conservation will never be just or sustainable.”
