In January, shortly after stepping off a plane from Beijing, Maldivian President Mohamed Muizzu delivered a message that reverberated well beyond the archipelago’s shores. “We may be small,” he said, “but that doesn’t give you the license to bully us.”
Later, Bangladesh’s interim leader Muhammad Yunus stood before Chinese officials and declared:
“The seven states of India, eastern part of India, called Seven Sisters… they are a landlocked region of India. They have no way to reach out to the ocean. We are the only guardian of the ocean for all this region.”
In both instances, the stage was set by China—either directly or by proximity—and the target was unmistakably India.
“The seven states of India, eastern part of India, called Seven Sisters… they are a landlocked region of India. They have no way to reach out to the ocean. We are the only guardian of the ocean for all this region.” Muhammad Yunus (Bangladesh’s Interim Leader)
As Beijing intensifies its courtship of South Asia’s smaller nations, a pattern is beginning to emerge: regional leaders are using visits to China—or the diplomatic cover those visits provide—to challenge India’s benevolent stance in increasingly public and provocative terms. The result is a slow burn of anti-India rhetoric, often dressed in the language of sovereignty and strategic autonomy, but amplified by China’s economic leverage and geopolitical ambitions.
“We may be small, but that doesn’t give you the license to bully us.” Mohamed Muizzu (Maldives President)
Muizzu’s statement came on the heels of a five-day visit to China, during which he signed 20 agreements ranging from infrastructure to defense cooperation. The timing was key: the Maldives had just endured a diplomatic spat with India, after Maldivian officials publicly mocked Prime Minister Narendra Modi on social media. Muizzu, elected on an “India Out” platform, returned from Beijing emboldened and defiant. His “bully” remark, while ostensibly about national dignity, was widely interpreted as a swipe at New Delhi.
In Bangladesh, Yunus’s statement was even more pointed—and geographically provocative. Speaking in Beijing during a visit that netted $2.1 billion in Chinese loans and grants, he offered Bangladesh as a gateway for China’s economic expansion. His framing of India’s Northeast as “landlocked” and dependent on Bangladeshi ports ignored existing access agreements between India and Bangladesh and drew sharp criticism in Delhi. To many in India, the statement signaled a willingness to trade strategic trust for Chinese capital.
What both leaders shared was not only proximity to Beijing but a platform—literal or symbolic—from which to reposition their countries in the China-India rivalry.
For South Asian leaders like Muizzu and Yunus, China offers more than aid—it offers cash in debt shackles. And for smaller nations seeking to assert their autonomy, taking rhetorical aim at India while in China’s orbit has become a form of diplomatic signaling and a way to please their masters in Beijing
In Mr. Yunus’s case, the rhetoric aligns with a domestic need to project Bangladesh as an assertive regional player after the ouster of Sheikh Hasina’s long-dominant government. In Muizzu’s case, it reinforced a campaign promise to reduce India’s influence—one he operationalized by ejecting Indian platforms from the Maldives within months of taking office.
Yet while the rhetoric may play well at home, its long-term strategic value remains uncertain.
India, despite its size, has shown restraint. But the political and economic risks for its neighbors are real.
After Muizzu’s “bully” comment, Indian tourists—once the largest group visiting the Maldives—cancelled trips en masse, prompting Malé to quietly begin mending ties with New Delhi. And while Yunus’s remarks scored points in Beijing, they may complicate future cooperation with India on cross-border water sharing, trade, and transit—areas where Dhaka and Delhi have shared real, if fragile, progress in recent years.
Meanwhile, China’s support often comes with conditions of its own. Sri Lanka’s struggles with Chinese debt, symbolized by the long-term lease of Hambantota Port, loom large in regional memory. For countries like Bangladesh and the Maldives, the promise of Chinese investment must be weighed against the risk of overdependence.
What emerges is not a coordinated strategy but a repeated performance. Beijing plays host. Leaders from smaller South Asian nations deliver their lines—often casting India as the overbearing neighbor. And the geopolitical tension subtly shifts, just enough to unsettle the status quo.
This is not the first time South Asia has witnessed such diplomatic balancing acts. Nepal and Sri Lanka have all, at various times, explored tilts toward China. But the sharpness of the anti-India language post-China visits—especially in the cases of Muizzu and Yunus—suggests a new boldness, likely encouraged by Beijing’s growing regional confidence.
Still, geography and history may have the final word. India is not a distant power but a neighbor, trading partner, and cultural presence with deep roots across South Asia—and the first responder in times of crisis, as demonstrated in the recent past, from COVID-19 to earlier challenges. While China may offer a temporary megaphone, it remains to be seen whether its promises can match India’s staying power. For now, China provides the platform. But it is India that must manage the echoes.