Worried about police brutality abroad, but what about violence that takes place in your own backyard?

Ranchi: The murder of George Floyd by the police has triggered a global movement that raises a voice against police brutality. In India, too, #blacklivesmatter was trending, with everyone from celebrities, social activists to the common man registering their voice and demanding justice. But by the looks of it, the movement has failed to make an impact in India, as we recently witnessed a father-son-duo (Jayaraj-Fenix) being brutally tortured to death in police custody in Tamil Nadu.

The multiple injuries on the bodies indicated the brutality inflicted on them was far worse than what Floyd had to endure while being choked to death. The case also highlights the fact that custodial deaths are a reality in India, to which many choose to turn a blind eye. Sadly, they often even fail to create outrage as in the case of Minhaj Ansari of Jharkhand.

Ansari’s murder is a prime example of police getting away with killing people in custody in India, unlike the four officers in Minneapolis, who have been charged with second-degree murder of George Floyd. The case is now under trial.

Ansari, resident of Jamtara, owner of a mobile repairing shop and a father of an eight-month-old daughter, died in police custody just because he was the admin of a WhatsApp group, in which someone had allegedly shared pictures of beef. For this, he was picked up by the police. Harish Pathak was then the officer of Narayanpur police station. Later, Ansari was brutally beaten up by police and also by the complainant — Sonu Singh, a Bajrang Dal member. Pathak and Singh allegedly assaulted Minhaj in front of his mother too. They mercilessly beat him to so much that Ansari succumbed to his injuries when he was rushed for treatment, just like the father-son duo who died in Tamil Nadu.

However, the injustice did not stop there, after a lot of struggle the family managed to get a murder charge slapped on Pathak, but eventually his suspension order was revoked. The trial against him did not begin and Pathak was able to get a stay on his case. Singh’s name was also erased from the charge-sheet filed by the police.

Four years down the line, the trial is yet to start. However, Pathak has now been posted in a police station which falls in the Chief Minister of Jharkhand, Hemant Soren’s constituency.

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The torture marks on the body of Minhaj, before he was buried (file picture)

“My brother was made the admin of a WhatsApp group by his friend, and then one of the members sent the alleged picture of beef to the group. Sonu Singh complained to police about his religious sentiments being hurt. After which the police picked up Minhaj (Ansari) from his house along with several others in the Whatsapp group on October 2, 2016, around 9 pm. Later, all were released by the police barring Minhaj. All those released by police had wounds from being beating on their bodies,” recalled Hazrat Ansari, Minhaj’s brother while talking to eNewsroom.

He paused and then added: “Next morning, when Ammi (Ajhela Bibi) went to visit Minhaj at the police station, she saw both Harish Pathak and Sonu Singh beating Minhaj. When my father and the Mukhiya reached the police station and confronted them, they were abused and sent back.”

An NDTV report had also claimed that when the police had called a press conference, Minhaj was seen slumped against the wall, without much body movement. His face was also covered with a piece of cloth suggesting that he had been subjected to severe beating.

“When police were taking him to Narayanpur from Jamtara, there is a village named Pobia. It was here that he was taken out of the vehicle and handed over to Sonu Singh, who beat him again mercilessly,” alleged the brother.

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Autopsy report of Minhaj Ansari, clearly mentions grave external and internal injuries on his body

After Ansari was declared dead in RIMS, Ranchi on October 9, his post-mortem report said there were signs of torture on his body. Doctors had even pointed out that Ansari might not have been fed for long while in police custody.

Ansari’s lawyer accused the police of murdering the young man in connivance with outsiders and then suppressing the victim’s case. “Our case against Pathak was registered on 6 October, 2016, which is four days after Pathak’s FIR against Minhaj. However, with Minhaj dying on 9 October, a departmental inquiry was set up against Pathak. But senior officials who had to start the inquiry did not begin it. They maintained that the department would start the inquiry only when Pathak’s criminal case proceedings ended,” said advocate A Allam while talking to eNewsroom.

“Pathak had registered two cases against Minhaj, one for circulating the beef message and the other against the victim’s family for attacking him. So we initially demanded that the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) club all three FIRs and investigate the matter,” said Allam.

In the charge-sheet not only was Sonu Singh’s name removed, but the section 302 (murder) of IPC had been changed to 304 (unintentional murder). “However, in our fight, a supplementary charge-sheet was filed and section 302 of IPC was mentioned in the case,” informed Allam.

The senior lawyer added, “His anticipatory bail was rejected twice by the court. However, six months ago Pathak managed to get a stay in the case.”

When contacted, Jamtara MLA Irfan Ansari, expressed concern and mentioned the Tweets he had posted after Harish Pathak became the Officer In-charge of Barhait police station. “This police officer is a psycho. He does not deserve to be posted anywhere, leave aside the CM constituency. Wherever he has gone, he committed wrong acts, his career is full of misdeed. I have raised this issue and will keep raising it.”

Meanwhile, Minhaj’s father Umar Mia recalled Rajya Sabha MP and JMM President Shibu Soren’s promise. He had promised the old man that he would help him get justice for his son.

eNewsroom tried reaching out to Pathak, but he could not be contacted for a comment.

Women, Identity, Change: The Three Forces Driving Bengal’s Electoral Verdict

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Kolkata: The electoral contest in Bengal this time has not been shaped by a single wave but by a layered mix of social anxieties, identity assertions, welfare considerations, and institutional interventions. Several factors have worked both for and against the two principal contenders—the Trinamool Congress (TMC) and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). In the end, the outcome will depend on which of these forces translated more effectively into votes on the ground.

The TMC Strategy: A Fortress of Welfare and Identity

Minority consolidation

One of the most decisive factors for the ruling party appears to be the consolidation of minority votes. Muslims, who constitute around 27 percent of Bengal’s population, seem to have rallied strongly behind the TMC. Reports of names being deleted or subjected to scrutiny under the SIR process appear to have deepened a sense of political vulnerability, pushing even fence-sitters towards the ruling party.

This consolidation extended beyond Muslims. Sections of Sikhs, particularly after the controversy involving a senior Sikh IPS officer and remarks by Leader of Opposition Suvendu Adhikari, appear to have gravitated towards TMC. Christians and Anglo-Indians too, wary of what they perceive as majoritarian politics, seem to have leaned in the same direction. Together, this created a broad-based minority bloc with significant electoral weight.

Women voters and welfare politics

Women voters—especially in rural Bengal—continue to be a strong support base for Mamata Banerjee. Welfare schemes, direct benefit transfers, and a carefully cultivated image of “Didi” have resonated widely. Alongside policy, there is also visible resentment among sections of women voters over the use of derogatory language against the Chief Minister during the campaign. This combination of material benefits and emotional connect may have ensured a clear tilt in favour of the TMC.

Rural Bengal’s leaning

The rural-urban divide remains evident. Rural Bengal, by most accounts, appears to have stayed with the ruling party. Government outreach, local networks, and booth-level mobilization played a key role. Rural women, in particular, were seen turning out in large numbers, often influencing the voting behaviour within families.

Bengali Asmita (identity)

In the final days of campaigning, especially during the second phase, the issue of Bengali pride—or Bengali Asmita—gained prominence. The TMC framed the election around protecting Bengal’s cultural and linguistic identity. This narrative appears to have resonated across sections, adding an emotional dimension to voter choice.

Organizational strength

The TMC’s cadre network remains one of its biggest strengths. The party’s presence was visible across booths, reflecting deep organizational reach. Even with heavy deployment of central forces, this grassroots machinery plays a crucial role in mobilization and turnout management.

The BJP: Anti-Incumbency and the Push for Parivartan

Desire for change and anti-incumbency

Despite TMC’s strong presence, a section of voters—particularly among the urban middle and upper classes—continues to express a desire for change. Added to this is a degree of anti-incumbency after nearly 15 years of TMC rule, which has influenced segments of the electorate to look towards the BJP as an alternative. While this sentiment was somewhat diluted by controversies around SIR and allegations of central overreach, it has not disappeared. Among both Hindi-speaking and Bengali-speaking urban voters, this factor remains relevant.

Hindi-speaking electorate

The consolidation of Hindi-speaking voters—across caste lines—has been a key pillar for the BJP. Many among those who have settled in Bengal over the past decade appear to have backed the party in large numbers. This demographic, especially in urban and semi-urban areas, could influence closely contested seats.

Central machinery and high-voltage campaigning

The BJP’s campaign saw extensive involvement of central leadership. Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Home Minister Amit Shah led an aggressive outreach. The large deployment of central forces and officials from outside the state has shaped the electoral atmosphere in a significant way. Supporters view it as ensuring neutrality, while critics see it differently—but its impact is undeniable.

Pro-SIR sentiment

While anger against the SIR process was visible in several areas, there were also pockets where it may have worked to the BJP’s advantage. In tightly contested constituencies, even small shifts in voter rolls can have a decisive impact. A segment of voters also appears to support stricter scrutiny, aligning with the BJP’s position.

Where do Congress and CPM stand?

The Congress and the CPM were also in the fray, though their impact remains uneven. Congress continues to retain pockets of influence, particularly in parts of Malda and Murshidabad, where its organizational base still holds. The CPM, which ruled Bengal for 35 years, appears to still be struggling to regain legislative presence in the Assembly. While there are indications that its vote share may see a marginal increase, it is unlikely to be substantial enough to translate into a significant number of seats.

The Final Countdown: A Battle of Mandates and Math

This election, in many ways, reflects a contest between consolidation and counter-consolidation—between identity, welfare, and the demand for change. The TMC has relied on its social coalitions, welfare framework, and organizational depth. The BJP has leaned on anti-incumbency, demographic consolidation, and strong central campaigning.

As Bengal awaits the verdict on May 4, the central question remains: which of these factors carried more weight inside the polling booth? The answer will shape not just the next government, but also the direction of politics in the state in the years to come.

The Politics of Grief: Abhaya Movement Faces Its Most Difficult Question Yet

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Kolkata: What began as a spontaneous outpouring of grief and anger over the rape and murder of a young doctor at R. G. Kar Medical College and Hospital has now entered a complex and uneasy political phase. The “Abhaya movement,” once hailed as one of the most organic, leaderless uprisings in recent times, is confronting internal disquiet after the victim’s mother, Ratna Debnath, decided to contest the Panihati assembly seat on a Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) symbol.

For many who marched, fasted, and mobilized under the banner of justice, the development has been deeply unsettling.

“I feel Abhaya’s mother is being used—knowingly or unknowingly,” said activist Mahasweta Samajdar. “We protested not just for her, but for ourselves… so that such incidents don’t happen again.”

Yet, beyond emotion and mobilisation, the movement is now confronting a harder truth—justice delayed is reshaping its direction.

Stalled Justice: The 20-Month Legal Vacuum

The movement, which saw hundreds of thousands reclaim the streets during the “Reclaim the Night” protests in August 2024, is now grappling with a stark legal reality. While the Central Bureau of Investigation’s initial charge sheet listed 128 witnesses and 11 distinct pieces of evidence—including DNA matches—the lack of a final, exhaustive conviction after 20 months has created a vacuum.

This vacuum of stalled justice has increasingly drawn in institutional and political actors.

Beyond the Family: A Broadening Resistance

From the early days, the protests were driven largely by junior doctors under the banner of the West Bengal Junior Doctors Front (WBJDF). Their 17-day hunger strike and sustained mobilization turned a tragic incident into a wider call against institutional apathy. The movement peaked during the “Droho Carnival” (Carnival of Resistance)—a counter-mobilization that drew thousands in a direct challenge to the state-sponsored Durga Puja festivities.

This momentum led to the formation of Abhaya Mancha, a platform with three core demands: justice for the victim, an end to rape culture, and dismantling the “threat culture” within Bengal’s medical and administrative systems. Over time, the movement expanded to include similar cases in Jaigaon, Jainagar, Canning, and Singur, evolving into a broader resistance against systemic failures.

The Ballot Rupture: When Justice Meets Power

The parents’ decision to enter the electoral arena has introduced a sharp rupture. Activist Gopa Mukherjee noted, “When justice feels inaccessible, people turn to power. But Abhaya was never just their daughter—she became a symbol for all of us.”

However, the choice of platform remains a point of contention. The movement’s activists point to a documented history of controversy involving the BJP’s record on women’s safety, citing the party’s handling of the Bilkis Bano case—where 11 convicts were initially granted remission—as well as the Kathua rape case and the Hathras gang rape case. For many protesters, these precedents create a jarring contradiction with the movement’s original “non-partisan” ethos.

Survival of a Symbol: An Unfinished Struggle

Tensions have further intensified due to perceptions that the parents’ recent accusations against sections of the medical community align with political narratives aimed at weakening the WBJDF.

Still, many insist the core struggle remains intact. “The movement did not begin with the parents, and it will not end with them,” said Mukherjee. “There is no question of demoralization.”

Despite ideological fractures, the Abhaya movement stands as a rare example of a decentralized, citizen-led uprising—one that forced uncomfortable questions about governance into the public sphere.

As the 2026 Assembly elections approach, the battle over Abhaya’s legacy has clearly moved from the streets into the polling booth. The question now is no longer just about justice for one victim, but whether a people’s movement can survive the very politics it once stood apart from.

 

City of Joy Raises a Quiet War Cry: “Give No Benefit to BJP”

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Kolkata: Ahead of the second phase of voting in the Bengal elections, Kolkata’s civil society has launched a campaign—“Give No Benefit to BJP”—aimed at encouraging people to vote unitedly and in maximum numbers.

Well-known activists from the city under the banner of Concerned Citizens of Bengal, however did not name any political party to vote for and claimed they have no connection with any political organisation. The speakers used different languages to convey their message to the masses.

The speakers first explained why they felt the need to hold a press conference just days ahead of the second phase of polling.

“We have seen votes getting divided over many issues, which can be addressed later. No party is perfect, including those challenging the BJP. But right now, we must prioritise safety and reject hatred. Local issues can wait—this moment demands one thing: give no benefit to the BJP,” said social activist Azhar Salim.

Another activist Dr Adil Sarfaraz said that the BJP is attempting to destroy the longstanding traditions of peace, harmony, and brotherhood in the state. Therefore, he urged people to unite against the BJP and the RSS and vote for candidates who can defeat them.

Social activist Manzar Jameel, speaking in Urdu, stressed that defeating the BJP is essential to counter the divisions and fear being spread. “It is a matter of great shame that the entire machinery of the Centre, including PM, HM, CMs and forces, are in Bengal to conduct elections. It feels like a war situation. While different parts of the country need better governance and attention from BJP leaders and governments, they are here to terrorise Bengalis,” he said.

Azar Salim, speaking in Bangla, said Bengal is a land of mishti (sweets) and harmony, where people believe in coexistence, not hatred. He emphasised the need to protect Bengali language, culture, and brotherhood, noting that Kolkata is known as the ‘City of Joy’ for its peaceful way of life.

Athar Firdausi, who moderated the event, said that ordinary people are living in deep fear. He alleged that the BJP is creating divisions and intimidating certain communities, and to counter this, voters must support candidates capable of defeating the BJP.

Human rights activist and president of the Bandi Mukti Committee, Chhoton Das, stated that the SIR process has caused immense distress in people’s lives. Thousands of marginalised individuals, who may lack documents but undeniably exist, need support. He warned that if the BJP comes to power, it could lead to attempts to render people stateless. He urged Bengal’s intelligentsia to act against the BJP. The speakers also appealed to the general public to actively participate in voting.

The speakers also responded to questions from journalists present at the event.

Notably, during the 2021 Assembly polls, a successful campaign—“No Vote to BJP”—was carried out by Left-backed organisations. However, this year, no such campaign has been formally launched. The organisers had said after the previous election results that their campaign—later evolving into a movement—would continue, as it also stood against fascism.

Jawhar Sircar’s Stark Warning: “BJP Threatens Bengal’s Soul, SIR Undermines Votes

Kolkata: Ahead of the crucial West Bengal elections, former bureaucrat and ex-Member of Parliament Jawhar Sircar has issued a strong warning to voters against supporting the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), calling it not only a grave threat to Bengal’s pluralistic culture but also “anti-India.”

Speaking exclusively to Insaf News Online and eNewsroom, Sircar—widely regarded as a public intellectual known for his integrity—launched a scathing critique of the BJP’s politics under Narendra Modi, the governance of Mamata Banerjee, and the functioning of the Election Commission. He also expressed disappointment with how the Supreme Court handled the contentious SIR (Special Intensive Revision) case.

The former bureaucrat, who has conducted at least five elections during his tenure as State Election Commissioner, asserted that the entire SIR process is illegal and driven by mala fide intent.

BJP Is Not Only a Threat to Bengal’s Culture but India’s Too

On being asked how seriously the people of Bengal should view the upcoming election—especially in the face of a party that, according to critics, does not align with Bengal’s cultural ethos—Sircar responded sharply.

“See, the party (BJP), which you are indicating, is not only against the culture of Bengal, it is also against the culture of our nation. We did not see, such kattar (hardened party) in the country. Bengal is more liberal. Here since 200 years, we try to forget caste and Hindu-Muslim issue, so Bengal did not see that much riots, as much it happened in West Pakistan (today’s Pakistan). Few riots happened, to take properties by some greedy people, but there is no feeling of hatred among people here.”

He further added: “There are 10 to 15 percent people who do not bear each other. Which now increased to 35 percent, who did not like Mamata Banerjee government. Mamata Banerjee government has several issues too, including corruption. And civil society was against it too, but since BJP’s looming threat, people get confused. I say, neither dada (Modi), nor Didi (Mamata) but choose a good candidate, from whichever party he belongs too, even independents. And when I say about elected good candidates, I know, they will never go to BJP.”

No Legal Basis for SIR, It’s a Manufactured Exercise

On the SIR exercise, Sircar pointed out, “I conducted elections at a time when the current Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar was still in school. So he cannot teach us what the law is. There is no such provision as SIR in the law.”

He claimed that in the past 75 years, no such exercise had ever been conducted, calling it “a creation of Gyanesh Kumar’s imagination.” He further noted that entries were made through Booth Level Officers (BLOs), many of whom are not proficient in using computers.

Raising serious concerns, Sircar said that citizens whose names have been deleted on such a large scale have the right to know how these entries were made in the system.

The former state election commissioner also alleged that the terminology used during the SIR process in Bengal was intended to reduce Bengalis to second-class citizens. According to him, the BJP and its political culture are not just anti-Bengal but anti-India, and the party lacks an understanding of Bengal’s cultural fabric.

Expressing disappointment with the judiciary, he said, “I do not understand why the courts could not stop this process despite such a clear situation. The Supreme Court has been slow in several matters in recent years.”

Watch the full interview of Jawhar Sircar

BJP’s Strategy, Bengal’s Resistance and Political Faultlines

Sircar noted that in Gujarat and other states where SIR was conducted, large-scale deletions also took place. However, since elections are not imminent there, public awareness remains low.

“In Bengal, the opposition is stronger because the Election Commission’s manipulation has been exposed,” he said, alleging that SIR is part of a broader strategy by the BJP to win elections in the state.

Responding to the Chief Justice’s remark—“Why is there politics over SIR in Bengal?”—Sircar argued that the contradictions are far more visible in Bengal and its citizens are more politically aware.

Criticizing the BJP’s political approach, he said Bengal has spent over 200 years attempting to overcome caste and religious divisions. While a few communal riots did occur, he maintained they were driven by vested interests rather than hatred.

“The soul of Bengal does not carry hatred,” he said.

Beyond Identity: Call for Development, Accountability and a Third Alternative

Sircar, the anti-corruption crusader acknowledged public dissatisfaction with the Mamata Banerjee government, stating that concerns such as corruption and lawlessness are valid and deserve discussion. However, he emphasized that the people of Bengal reject both corruption and communal politics.

“Personally, I am in favor of a third alternative beyond both Mamata Banerjee and Narendra Modi,” he said.

He also urged Muslims to focus on development issues rather than identity politics, stressing that elections in Bengal should center on social and economic concerns.

Questioning Mamata Banerjee’s secular credentials, Sircar remarked:

“When riots were taking place in Murshidabad, Mamata Banerjee was performing puja (worship) in Digha. Had she acted decisively, the BJP would not have had the opportunity to politicize the situation. She created the ground for BJP.”

Recalling former Chief Minister Jyoti Basu, he said Basu would issue strict instructions against rioters, enabling officials to act decisively and without fear.

Concluding the interview, Sircar urged all eligible voters to exercise their franchise. He warned that any attempt to impose a government against the spirit of Bengal would not be accepted by its people.

Two Journeys, One Vote: While Some Migrant Workers Get Support, Thousands Struggle Home

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Murshidabad: A large-scale return of migrant workers to West Bengal ahead of the upcoming Assembly elections is placing severe strain on transport systems while revealing deeper anxieties around voter identity, employment insecurity, and administrative preparedness.

While there are reports of special travel arrangements being facilitated for select groups of migrant workers—allegedly backed by networks linked to the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)—thousands of others are making their way back to the state on their own, facing significant financial and logistical hardships. For these workers, the journey home is not just about participating in an election, but about ensuring their continued presence on the voter list.

Each year, thousands of workers from Bengal migrate to other states in search of livelihood, typically returning home during festivals like Eid or Durga Puja. Elections, historically, have not prompted such large-scale movement. This year, however, the pattern has shifted dramatically.

Following the completion of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, a widespread perception has taken hold among migrant workers that failing to vote could result in their names being removed from voter lists. This fear—whether fully grounded or amplified by circulating narratives—has triggered a surge in return travel from states such as Maharashtra, Kerala, Odisha, Gujarat, and Haryana, placing immense pressure on already stretched railway services.

Trains Hit Capacity as Expensive Private Travel Becomes the Norm

With train tickets largely unavailable, migrant workers are being forced to rely on alternative—and often more expensive—means of travel. Long-distance bus journeys, which are both time-consuming and physically exhausting, have become the primary fallback option.

Samshujoha Sarkar, a migrant worker from Sagarpara in Murshidabad, described the ordeal of returning home from Pune. Despite attempting to book train tickets a month in advance, he failed to secure a seat. Even boarding a general compartment proved impossible due to overcrowding.

Ultimately, he was forced to take a longer and more expensive route—travelling first to Odisha, then by bus to Kolkata, and finally onward to his village.

“For the past 15 years, I have been travelling between my workplace and home, but I have never faced such difficulties,” Sarkar said. “If I had managed to get a train, I could have reached home within a day. Instead, I had to take a longer route, which cost me around 6,000 rupees instead of the usual 2,000.”

Frustrated by the lack of arrangements, he asked: “Can’t the government arrange special trains for people like us?”

In major cities such as Mumbai, Delhi, and Bengaluru, migrant workers employed as domestic helpers, cooks, and daily-wage labourers are undertaking similarly difficult journeys back to Bengal—often without any institutional support.

From Kerala to Bengal: Workers Endure High Costs to Reach Home

The surge is particularly visible in Kerala, where migrant workers form a crucial part of the labour force. In Thiruvananthapuram, tickets for trains bound for Bengal are completely sold out, with only those who booked well in advance able to travel.

Key services—including the Shalimar Superfast Express, Dibrugarh Vivek Express, TVC SCL Express, Gurudev Superfast Express, CBE SCL Superfast Express, and Aronai Express—are struggling to cope with the sudden spike in demand.

As waiting lists grow longer, many workers who initially considered skipping the vote are now turning to private transport. From parts of Ernakulam district—including Perumbavoor, Kothamangalam, and Muvattupuzha—several buses have already departed carrying workers back to West Bengal.

These journeys come at a steep cost. Passengers are paying between ₹4,000 and ₹6,000 per trip—₹4,000 for non-AC buses, ₹5,000 for AC buses, and ₹6,000 for sleeper coaches. Each bus is operated by two drivers to manage the long-distance travel, and many workers have already arranged return trips on the same buses after casting their votes.

“Our train tickets are unlikely to be confirmed. Even if we lose our jobs, we will still go back and vote,” said one worker travelling with his family.

Fears of Voter List Deletion Spark Panic at Major Stations

The impact of this return migration is also visible within West Bengal. For over a week, heavy crowds of returning workers have been witnessed at Sealdah Railway Station, particularly those boarding trains towards Lalgola and surrounding areas.

Reports that numerous names have already been removed from voter lists have intensified anxiety among residents.

Farid Sheikh, a resident of Lalgola, said: “The names of many people have been deleted from the voter lists. Casting a vote is crucial this time. Like many others, I am returning home because I fear that if I don’t vote, my name might be removed.”

Organisations working closely with migrant labourers note that while workers usually return home enthusiastically during festive seasons, elections have historically not drawn the same level of response. This year, however, the aftermath of the SIR appears to have altered behaviour significantly, turning voting into a perceived necessity rather than a routine civic exercise.

Mass Exodus Disrupts Local Industries and Small Businesses

The sudden movement of workers is also disrupting economic activity in sectors dependent on migrant labour. A shortage of LPG cylinders has further compounded the situation, affecting small-scale industries such as jewellery workshops.

One manufacturer, who employs dozens of artisans across multiple units, said operations have been severely impacted.

“This situation has arisen due to a shortage of LPG cylinders, making it increasingly difficult for business owners to sustain their work,” he said. “Around 40 artisans are employed in my units, and nearly half of them have already left. Many more are likely to follow.”

He added that, in the absence of train tickets, both employers and workers are being forced to arrange private bus transport.

“This time, the demand among workers to return home is largely driven by the issue of voter list revision,” he said.

For workers themselves, the decision carries both financial and emotional consequences.
Rabiul Sheikh from Shamsherganj said: “We go outside to earn because we have no choice. Now we are forced to return, losing wages and spending our savings just to protect our identity.”

Rajibul Mondal of Domkal, who returned from Kerala, added: “As long as the fear of exclusion from the voter list remains, democracy will be a ‘festival’ only in name.”

Migrants Decry Lack of Government Support for Returning Voters

Despite strong political messaging urging migrant workers to return and vote, many workers say that such appeals have not been matched by adequate logistical support for the majority.

While some groups are believed to be benefiting from organised travel arrangements, large sections of migrant workers—especially those in informal sectors—are left to fend for themselves, navigating expensive and uncertain travel options.

Rahul Chakraborty, Central Committee member of the Association for Protection of Democratic Rights (APDR), criticised this gap.

“In the run-up to the Assembly elections, we are witnessing a surge in activity among migrant workers living outside the state,” he said. “Many are returning to Bengal—often at the cost of their livelihoods—solely to cast their votes.”

He added: “The panic created around the SIR has had a profound impact on them. The most concerning aspect is that the very government elected by their votes has not arranged special trains to bring them back.”

Voting Seen as an Essential Shield for Citizenship Status

Beyond logistics and economics, the current wave of migration reflects a deeper crisis—one rooted in the perceived link between voting and citizenship.

According to activists, many migrant workers now believe that failing to vote could not only result in deletion from voter lists but may also jeopardise their status as citizens.

Asif Faruk, State Secretary of the Migrant Workers’ Unity Forum (Parijaye Shramik Aikya Mancha), described the situation as a reflection of systemic insecurity.

“This rush of migrant workers—coming back solely to register their names on West Bengal’s voter list or to ensure their names remain on it—reflects a deep-seated sense of existential anxiety among ordinary people, as well as administrative failure,” he said.

“In the current political climate, having one’s name on the voter list has come to be seen as an indirect safeguard of citizenship,” Faruk added. “Following the SIR, a profound fear has taken root—that if they fail to vote even once, they may be labelled as ‘infiltrators’ or ‘missing voters’.”

He emphasised that this fear is not spontaneous, but shaped over time through political rhetoric and administrative complexity.

Social activist Abdul Gani echoed similar concerns: “The fact that people are travelling thousands of miles—driven solely by the fear of having their names struck off—just to cast their votes highlights serious concerns about institutional assurance. The Election Commission and administrative machinery have yet to inspire confidence among common people.”

Border Delays and High Fees Hamper the Final Journey Home

The journey back home has not been without further complications. Officials confirmed that several buses carrying migrant workers were detained at the Bengal–Odisha border, reportedly on grounds of overcrowding.

Private bus operators, who usually operate during festive seasons, report an unprecedented surge in demand. One operator said more than 100 buses have been deployed—far exceeding typical numbers during Eid or Durga Puja.

However, operators allege that they are facing additional challenges, including being forced to pay around ₹5,000 per trip at the border, cutting into their margins. Buses are also required to remain in Bengal for several days before making return trips.

Beyond the Ballot: A Fight for Recognition and Existence

What is unfolding across West Bengal is not merely a logistical challenge or a seasonal migration. It is a moment that exposes the fragile intersection of democracy, identity, and livelihood.

For thousands of migrant workers, the journey home is no longer just about participating in an election. It has become an act of safeguarding their presence—on paper and, by extension, in the nation itself.

In choosing to return—despite financial loss, physical hardship, and uncertainty—they are not just casting a vote. They are asserting their existence.

Soil, Dreams, and an Erased Name: A Professor, and the Word ‘Deleted’

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Mohd Shamim Akhter, son of Mohd Motiur Rahman, son of Hakim Mohd Suleman, son of Yaad Ali.

I am shaped from the fragrance of that soil which the world calls India. It is this very land that gave me birth—this blessed earth, often likened to paradise; it taught me how to walk, gave direction to my steps, and bestowed wings upon my dreams, allowing them to soar into the vastness of the skies.

My village, Bhatura, in the district of Madhubani, Bihar, may not shine brightly on the world map, yet for me, it is an entire universe—my identity, my roots, my very existence. The laughter of my childhood lies buried in its soil, and the prayers of my ancestors still breathe in its air. Whenever I close my eyes, those same unpaved lanes, that earthy fragrance, and those simple, innocent faces come alive before me—the ones who shaped me into a human being, who taught me how to live, and who grounded me in humility.

That is why, whenever the scent of my village calls out to me, I find myself returning—if not in body, then in memory and emotion—and a couplet rises unbidden from the depths of my heart: Where will you go, far from your homeland? Whenever longing rises, you will return here.

From Bihar to Saharanpur: Building a Life Through Calligraphy

I remember my student days—books in my hands and a restless fire in my heart. It was as though I was determined to become something, driven by a passion to carve my destiny with my own hands. During those years, I was studying at a large madrasa in a town in Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh. Alongside my studies, I would practice calligraphy whenever time allowed—earning a few rupees with the labor of my own hands. Sometimes my fingers would be stained with ink, sometimes my eyes would grow weary, but a quiet light within me kept burning—the realization that I was learning to live with dignity through my own effort.

From those modest earnings, I would spend a little on myself and save the rest quietly. What seemed insignificant to the world was, for me, the first brick of my dreams. One day, I placed those savings in my father’s hands, so that the walls of our home could rise—so that my dreams could take a tangible form.

Under my grandfather’s supervision, I began building our house. Those bricks were not merely forming walls—they were giving shape to my dreams, breathing life into my hopes, laying the foundation of my future. At that time, concrete houses were rare in my village, and mine becoming one of them felt like a monumental achievement. When it was completed, it stood as a living testament to my labor, my youth, my resolve, and my dreams. Later, I saved more money and gave it to my father again, with the wish that a water tap could be installed at home, so my mother would no longer have to go door to door in search of water. This was not merely money; it was my love and my sense of responsibility.

The Aligarh Years: A Scholar’s Struggle for Academic Excellence

My father was always close to my heart, yet life kept us apart. A modest job in a distant place separated him from us. Meetings became rare, waiting grew longer, and conversations were confined to letters—letters that sometimes carried the firmness of advice, sometimes the gentleness of prayers, and sometimes a love so profound that words could scarcely contain it. I lived within those letters; in them, I sought the presence of my father.

As the eldest son—somewhat mischievous, somewhat stubborn—I still carried within me a glowing flame of responsibility. The dreams reflected in my parents’ eyes would not let me rest. Perhaps that is why I eventually reached Aligarh to pursue my Master’s degree—a city of knowledge where dreams gather the courage to become reality.

But life never offered an easy path. Sometimes my pockets were empty, sometimes my heart heavy, sometimes circumstances unforgiving. I would spend my days immersed in the silence of the library, and by evening, I would take my bicycle and set out—writing essays for others, doing calligraphy, or exchanging knowledge for a few coins. Even in those difficult days, despite my limited income, I made it a point to send some money every month for my brothers’ education, hoping to ease my father’s burden. That amount may have been small, but it carried my sincerity and my silent sacrifice.

Then came another phase of life—in the year 2000, I got married. Responsibilities grew, and a young son entered my world. When he was old enough to walk, I enrolled him in a school in Aligarh. It was a beautiful sight—the father a student, and the son a student too. He would go to school, and I to the university.

The PhD Milestone and the Call of Aliah University in Kolkata

Time passed, and in 2007, I finally earned my PhD. That moment felt as though years of struggle, sacrifice, tears, and perseverance had finally borne fruit. I was the first person from my village to achieve this distinction, and later I secured a respectable government position. This was not just my success—it was the honor of my village and the reward of my parents’ prayers.

Then Kolkata called me. Aliah University opened a new door—a new chapter of life. In 2011, I appeared for an interview and succeeded, but a change in government halted my appointment. It felt like a shattered dream. Later that year, the position was advertised again. I applied, appeared once more, and this time destiny stood by me. In May 2012, I joined as an Assistant Professor.

Over time, I continued teaching, served twice as Head of the Department, and today I hold the position of Associate Professor as well as Head of the Department. I have taught thousands of students—not just academic knowledge, but values of life, truth, and humanity. I made Kolkata my home and began to dream of a future here. In 2016, I became a registered voter here, then my wife, then my son. I believed I was no longer just living in this city; I had become a part of it.

After moving here, I was blessed with three more sons. My eldest son—whose name has now been erased from the voter list of Bengal—is an MBBS student, training to save lives. My other three sons are still in school, nurturing dreams in their young eyes. But perhaps fate had other plans.

The 2026 SIR Crisis: When Citizenship Becomes a Question Mark

2026 arrived as a catastrophe. A Bengal electoral roll under Special Intensive Revision (SIR) was published, and beside my name, there appeared a single word: “Deleted.”

Just one word… yet it was not merely a word—it was a verdict. Against my identity. Against my existence. Against my entire life. I kept staring at it, as if it were asking me: Who are you? Am I not the one born on this very soil? Am I not the one who dedicated his youth to building this nation? Am I not the one who now educates its children? Then why was my name erased? Am I not a citizen of India?

Not just mine—my son’s name too was removed, even though he had duly registered just a year ago. A young boy, whose world is still confined to books and medical aspirations, has been pushed into this darkness of uncertainty. And as if this pain were not enough, there is another silent suffering within my home. My wife has been battling a severe illness—ILD—since 2021, living on 24-hour oxygen support. This mental distress has not only shaken me but has also affected her fragile condition.

Most painful, and utterly inexplicable, is this: within the same household—myself, my wife, and my son—our names were all included. Yet in this opaque process, both father and son were deleted, while the mother’s name remained intact. What kind of criteria is this? What kind of scrutiny is this? The same foundation, the same documents—then why this contradiction? On what principles is the Election Commission functioning? Or have principles themselves ceased to exist—replaced only by unchecked authority?

Mass Disenfranchisement in Bengal: A Systematic Failure of Policy

When I looked deeper into this process, my heart sank further. What is happening in Bengal under the name of SIR does not reflect transparency or fairness. It resembles a systematic irregularity, a deep indifference. Lakhs of names have been erased as though those people never belonged to this nation. This is not a mere error; it is a silent brutality.

And most distressing of all, the Supreme Court, our last hope for justice, has yet to take a decisive step that reassures the common citizen that their fundamental rights are secure. Has justice itself lost its meaning in delay? Will a citizen’s identity now remain entangled in files and dates? I ask the Supreme Court, every responsible institution, and every awakened conscience—not as a plea, but as a challenge: Has the Constitution become a shield only for the powerful? Does justice collapse before reaching the weak?

I am not alone. There are lakhs like me—broken, scattered, yet still standing—fighting to reclaim their identity. If today a teacher, a worker, or a medical student can be rendered doubtful in their own homeland, then who is safe? Who can be certain they will not be next?

Reclaiming the Narrative: Hope as a Form of Resistance

I am a teacher. I have always taught my students the values of truth, justice, and hope. But today, I myself have become a question. Can a single word erase an entire identity? Can a list invalidate a whole lifetime? I am not broken—but I am wounded. I have not stopped—but the path has grown uncertain.

Yet somewhere within me, a ray of hope still remains—the same hope that has always sustained me: Do not complain of fate—keep testing your destiny; Do not fear the distance—keep moving forward. But now, this hope is no longer just personal strength—it has become a question, a protest, a call.

The time has come to break this silence and to remind the system of its constitutional duty—otherwise, the day is not far when history will write, beside all our names, with ruthless finality:

“Deleted.”

Between a Paralysed Elder and a 19-Year-Old: The 1956 Deed That No Longer Guarantees a Vote

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Kolkata: For decades, the Wilayat Ali Garwan family has been a fixture of the Metiabruz landscape, with electoral records dating back to 1956. Yet, in a shocking turn of administrative events, 15 members of this multi-generational clan—including eight women—have been summarily deleted from the voter list in Munshipara.

The removals span the vulnerable extremes of the family: the oldest affected is a paralyzed woman under 60, while the youngest is 19-year-old Meghna Khatoon. Their disappearance from the rolls is not an isolated incident; it is the tip of a massive iceberg involving the alleged deletion of nearly 37,000 names across the Metiabruz area.

This systemic exclusion has triggered a crisis of identity and a hunger strike by veteran activist Jiten Nandi, as residents demand to know how their fundamental right to vote could vanish without warning or explanation.

A Family Erased: The Case of the Wilayat Ali Garwan Clan

The Garwan family’s history is rooted in the same holding, U59, for generations. Ownership is clearly documented in a 1956 deed, proving a continuous presence that stretches far beyond living memory. Despite these deep roots, the current revision has decimated their electoral presence:

Targeting the Women: In the branch of Mohammad Islam Mullah, the deletions have targeted the household’s female members with surgical precision. Meghna Khatun, along with the wives of her four uncles—Muslima, Jahanara, Roshenara, and the widow of Monirul—have all been struck off.

Total Household Deletions: In the branch of Sohrab Ali, the impact is even more severe. The entire household of the late Abdul Mabood Mullah, including his paralyzed wife, is missing. In the families of Abdul Shukur and Abdul Ghafoor, the names of five sons have been removed, effectively silencing the next generation of voters.

“We have lived here for 70 years,” one family member stated. “To be told we no longer exist on paper is to be told we do not belong to this country.”

37,000 Deletions: A Community Facing Systematic Crisis

The plight of the Garwans is mirrored across Metiabruz, where local activists report that approximately 37,000 individuals have been purged from the electoral rolls. The sheer scale of the deletions has sparked allegations of “voter suppression” and “administrative targeting.”

The removals appear to follow a chaotic logic: in many cases, certain family members remain on the list while others, living under the same roof, are removed. This inconsistency has fueled a sense of dread, with residents fearing that these deletions are a precursor to broader efforts to strip them of their citizenship rights.

The Satyagraha of Jiten Nandi: Fighting for Democratic Rights

Faced with administrative silence, prominent local activist Jiten Nandi, popularly known as Jiten Da, undertook a one-day hunger strike on Poila Boisakh. Choosing the Bengali New Year for his Satyagraha, Nandi sought to highlight the “darkness” falling over the democratic rights of the people.

“These are not outsiders—these are people whose families have lived here for hundreds of years,” Nandi declared during his protest. “If citizens are silently removed like this, it raises serious questions about whether this is the first step towards making them non-citizens. A single spelling mistake cannot be the reason to take away someone’s right to vote.”

Nandi’s fast has become a rallying point for thousands of residents who find themselves “digitally locked out” of the democratic process.

Barriers to Justice: The Digital Divide and Structural Hurdles

The path to restoring these names is fraught with structural hurdles. Most of the affected residents belong to marginalized socio-economic backgrounds where digital literacy is low and access to high-speed internet is a luxury.

The Digital Trap: Many find it impossible to file online appeals because their identification cards are not linked to current mobile numbers, preventing the receipt of essential OTPs.

Financial Exploitation: Desperate families are flocking to local cyber cafés, where they are being charged exorbitant, unregulated fees to navigate complex government portals.

Documentation Errors: Minor spelling mismatches between documents—often a result of past clerical errors by the state—are now being used as grounds to deny the restoration of names.

A Urgent Call for Transparency and Accountability

As the outcry grows, the demand for accountability is peaking. Activists are calling for an immediate, transparent review mechanism and an end to the “arbitrary” deletions. For the Wilayat Ali Garwan family and 37,000 others in Metiabruz, the issue is no longer just about a ballot paper; it is a battle for their dignity, their history, and their right to exist as recognized citizens of India.

Climb with Welfare, Fall with BJP: Inside TMC’s Snakes and Ladders Poll Campaign

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Kolkata: While voters across Bengal—and beyond—have long been inundated with high-decibel advertisements from the Bharatiya Janata Party across television screens, mobile phones, and newspapers, the ruling All India Trinamool Congress (TMC) is quietly charting a different course—one that enters homes, not just headlines.

TMC Flips Campaign Playbook With Interactive Gaming Leaflets

In a striking departure from conventional campaign tools, the party has rolled out a ‘Snakes and Ladders’ themed leaflet, transforming a familiar household game into a potent political message. Designed for door-to-door outreach, the leaflet is not merely symbolic—it is fully playable, complete with a cut-out dice that can be assembled from the paper itself.

BJP Leaders Cast as ‘Snakes’ in Trinamool’s Welfare Game

The visual metaphor is both simple and sharp. The “snakes” on the board are depicted with faces of prominent BJP leaders, including Narendra Modi and Amit Shah, signaling downfall and setbacks. Regional figures such as Suvendu Adhikari, Dilip Ghosh, and Samik Bhattacharya also feature as part of the descending traps. At the highest rungs of the board—where players risk the steepest fall—the imagery becomes more pointed, with Modi and Shah symbolising the sharpest political decline.

In contrast, the “ladders” represent welfare schemes of the Mamata Banerjee government. These include initiatives targeting women, youth, students, and housing beneficiaries. The most significant upward leap is tied to the popular Lakshmi Bhandar scheme, reinforcing its centrality in TMC’s political messaging.

tmc snakes and ladders campaign targets bjp in bengal homes
The front side of the leaflet

How Gamified Politics Ensures TMC’s Message Stays in Homes

Unlike traditional election pamphlets—often limited to text-heavy appeals or leader-centric messaging—this innovative format blends engagement with recall value. The front side of the leaflet prominently features Mamata Banerjee’s image, while the reverse carries detailed information about government schemes.

“This is not a leaflet people will throw away,” said Mohammed Reyaz, a professor of mass communication. “Across Bengal, both the elderly and children play games like Ludo and Snakes and Ladders. It is an integral part in most of the middle and upper middle class homes in Bengal. Such formats create recall value and ensure the message stays within households.”

Beyond ‘Khela Hobe’: TMC’s New Grassroots Strategy for 2026

The use of play as political metaphor is not new for the TMC. During the 2021 Assembly elections, the party’s electrifying slogan ‘Khela Hobe’—accompanied by football imagery linked to Mamata Banerjee—had captured public imagination and political discourse alike. And it was such a success that party now celebrate Khela Hobe Diwas on August 16 every year.

Even earlier, before unseating the Left Front’s decades-long rule, TMC leaders relied heavily on direct household outreach, including festival greetings delivered door-to-door—a strategy that helped build intimate voter connections.

What the ‘Snakes and Ladders’ campaign reflects is a continuity of grassroots politics with a creative twist. At a time when political communication is increasingly dominated by expensive media campaigns, TMC appears to be doubling down on physical, interactive, and community-driven engagement. By turning a simple game into a political narrative—where progress is tied to welfare and decline to opposition—the party is not just delivering a message; it is embedding it into everyday life.

‘Excluded’ in My Own Land: An IIM Professor Demands Answers on Voter Purge

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Kolkata: The 135th birth anniversary of B. R. Ambedkar was observed in the heart of Kolkata on Monday, marked by protests against the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls in West Bengal.

The SIR exercise, termed unconstitutional by sections of civil society, prompted organizers including Votadhikar Rakhya Mancha to deliberately choose the day to highlight the plight of genuine voters whose names were deleted from the rolls, effectively barring them from voting in the upcoming Assembly elections.

‘Excluded’ Without Explanation: New SIR Tag Deepens Uncertainty for Voters

Among those present was Dr Nandita Roy, a professor at the Indian Institute of Management (IIM) Calcutta, who joined hundreds of others—many of whom said their names had been removed from the voters’ list following the SIR.

“I had to think before coming here, but I did—not just for myself, but for every genuine voter who has been deleted. I have been anxiously checking the list, and yesterday I saw that my name has now been marked as ‘Excluded’,” Dr Roy said at the gathering in the Kolkata Municipal Corporation area.

The SIR exercise in Bengal, announced on November 4 last year, has seen several new categories introduced over time—from “Logical Discrepancies” to “Under Adjudication”, “Tribunal Hearing”, and now “Excluded”. However, it remains unclear whether this new terminology has been introduced on the instructions of the Supreme Court or by the Election Commission itself. It is also unclear whether the term “Excluded” applies to all deleted voters or only to those whose forms are currently under review.

Researcher Sabir Ahamed, one of the speakers, highlighted that Muslims account for a disproportionately high number of deletions across the state, particularly in the Malda–Murshidabad region.

‘This Is About Citizenship, Not Just Voting’: Faridul Islam’s Desperate Appeal

Activist Sheikh Faridul Islam, whose name was reportedly deleted due to an incorrect translation of the prefix “Sheikh” from Bengali to English, said he had written to the President of India and the Chief Justice of India expressing a wish to die, breaking down while narrating his ordeal.

The 40-year-old said, “There are at least six people who have written to the President and the CJI expressing a wish to die. This is not just about voting rights, but about citizenship. I know what happens to people who are labelled illegal citizens. I am doing this for everyone, and for my son, who will face hardship if this is not corrected.”

On the occasion, ordinary women, along with their families, also took the stage, expressing deep fears about their very existence after their names were deleted from the voter list.

A signature campaign against the SIR was also conducted at the venue.

The event featured several revolutionary songs and concluded with Hum Honge Kamyab Ek Din (We Shall Overcome).

Transgender persons and members of the eunuch community also participated.