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‘Who Killed My Son?’ — Three Years After IIT Kharagpur Student Faizan Ahmed’s Death, No Answers Yet

Kolkata: It has been three years since IIT Kharagpur student Faizan Ahmed was found dead in his hostel room, yet the fight for justice continues. What was initially dismissed as a suicide has been proven, through relentless struggle, to be murder — but even today, no one has been held accountable.

On October 14, 2022, 23-year-old Faizan Ahmed, a third-year mechanical engineering student from Tinsukia, Assam, was found dead inside his hostel. The first autopsy, conducted at Midnapore Medical College, hastily labelled the case a suicide, overlooking crucial evidence: injuries on the body, bloodstains on the walls, and inconsistencies in the forensic report.

Unwilling to accept this, Faizan’s parents approached the Calcutta High Court, seeking truth and accountability. The court appointed forensic expert Dr Ajay Kumar Gupta, who reviewed the postmortem footage and discovered a hematoma and severe head injuries, indicating homicide. Acting on this, the Calcutta High Court ordered a second postmortem, which was carried out in May 2023 at Calcutta Medical College after the body was exhumed from Tinsukia.

The second postmortem confirmed what the family always believed — Faizan was murdered. Justice Rajasekhar Mantha then declared the case a homicide and directed the formation of a Special Investigation Team (SIT) to find the culprits.

Yet, three years on, the SIT has failed to name a single accused or present any concrete progress. In September 2025, the West Bengal government’s counsel even appealed to the High Court to form a medical board to review both autopsies, a move Faizan’s family fears will dilute the homicide finding and derail justice once again.

Speaking exclusively on the Olive Talks by eNewsroom Podcast, Faizan’s mother, Rehana Ahmed, breaks her silence. Her voice trembles as she recalls her son’s dreams and her three-year fight against indifference. “I feel hopeless now,” she says, “I have lost faith in everything — the police, the court, the system. I just want justice for my son.”

Big Tech’s Bloody Code: How Microsoft, Google, and Amazon Power the Gaza Genocide

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[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he most recent revelations about Microsoft’s deep ties with Israel’s war machine have once again laid bare the central role of US Big Tech in enabling the genocide in Gaza. A joint investigation by The Guardian, +972 Magazine and Hebrew-language outlet Local Call exposed how Israel’s Unit 8200 intelligence corps has been storing and processing audio recordings of every single Palestinian phone call on Microsoft’s Azure cloud platform. According to the report, this partnership has given the Israeli military unprecedented surveillance capabilities, transforming the private communications of millions of Palestinians into raw material for occupation and war. Israel realised that its own servers did not have the computing power or the storage space required and then turned to Microsoft.

This is not the first time Microsoft’s complicity with Israel’s military has come to light. A +972 Magazine investigation in January 2025 revealed deep institutional ties between Microsoft and the Israeli army, including collaboration between Azure and OpenAI in projects that directly support military operations. Microsoft, like its Big Tech peers, has fully integrated itself into Israel’s apparatus of occupation, repression, and mass killing. Among the Israeli army units revealed to be relying on Azure are the Air Force’s Ofek Unit, which manages large databases of potential targets of sites and individuals for lethal airstrikes; the Matspen Unit, which designs operational and combat support systems; the Sapir Unit, responsible for the ICT backbone of Military Intelligence; and even the Military Advocate General’s Corps, which oversees both the prosecution of Palestinians and the rare disciplinary cases against soldiers in the occupied territories.

But Microsoft is not alone in integrating itself into Israel’s Gaza genocide. Google, Amazon, and Palantir are all cashing in on the genocide, embedding themselves in Israel’s war machine while projecting an image of innovation and progress to the world. Together, they form the digital backbone of the U.S. military-industrial complex and its imperialist project, of which Israel’s 21-month onslaught on Gaza is a central front.

Microsoft: Cloud Partner of Surveillance and Occupation

The Azure revelations are particularly chilling. For decades, Israel’s Unit 8200 has intercepted Palestinian communications as part of its occupation strategy. What is new is the massive industrial scale of this surveillance operation. By outsourcing data storage and processing to Microsoft, Israel has been able to build a cloud-based dragnet—an archive of Palestinian life—and weaponise it against the people of Gaza.

The integration of Azure with Unit 8200 shows how Microsoft is not a neutral service provider but a direct partner in the occupation and its genocide in Gaza. Far from merely renting out servers, it co-develops technologies with Israeli institutions, invests in local surveillance startups, and runs research labs in the country. The company has become indispensable to the machinery of Israel’s colonial control.

Google and Amazon: Project Nimbus

Google and Amazon, not to be left behind, have signed Project Nimbus, a $1.2 billion contract with the Israeli state and military. Nimbus provides advanced cloud infrastructure and AI tools, including facial recognition, sentiment analysis, and predictive policing. These are not abstract capabilities—they are the very technologies used to surveil Palestinians, generate databases of “suspects in East Jerusalem,” and enable the algorithmic production of kill lists in Gaza.

Far from being an internal Israeli project, Nimbus is powered by U.S. corporate expertise and capital. Employees inside both of these companies have blown the whistle, warning that their work is fueling apartheid and genocide. Walkouts, petitions, and internal dissent have been met with firings and intimidation. Yet Google and Amazon continue to boast of their commitment to Israel. Profits and imperial loyalties outweigh any moral considerations.

Palantir: The Data Arms Dealer

If Microsoft, Google, and Amazon supply the infrastructure, Palantir provides the analytical engine. Born from CIA seed funding, Palantir has made its name turning vast surveillance data into actionable military intelligence. Its platforms fuse phone records, drone feeds, and social media activity into a seamless targeting system.

The company has aggressively pitched its services to the Israeli military, boasting of its role in helping Western allies “win wars.” In Gaza, such systems accelerate the kill chain—turning raw surveillance into bomb coordinates with frightening efficiency. Palantir thrives on war; each new atrocity becomes a marketing opportunity for its tools.

AI Kill Lists and the Automation of Genocide

At the heart of Israel’s onslaught is the industrialisation of death through artificial intelligence. Investigations by +972 Magazine revealed how the Israeli army’s AI system, “Lavender,” generates automated kill lists by flagging tens of thousands of Palestinians as suspected militants. Human oversight is minimal; the machine’s decisions are translated into bombings with catastrophic civilian tolls.

We have detailed in a previous People’s Democracy article how such kill lists underpin Israel’s campaign of extermination. But the Tech for Genocide continues to evolve. Newer AI tools, modelled on generative platforms like ChatGPT, are being developed by Israeli intelligence to accelerate surveillance, incrimination, and arrest. These are not isolated experiments limited to the Genocide in Gaza – they are the future of automated warfare and genocide, co-developed with and powered by U.S. Big Tech. It reminds us of how chemical giants in Nazi Germany, such as I.G Farben developed and produced the poison gases used to kill Jews, communists and other “undesirables” in various concentration camps. After the war, IG Farben was broken up into its successor companies, including BASF and Bayer.

Israel as Laboratory for Empire

What ties these threads together is Israel’s role as a laboratory for U.S. imperialism. Every tool of occupation tested on Palestinians becomes a global export. Predictive policing or surveillance software pioneered in the West Bank is sold to American police departments. Biometric checkpoints trialled in East Jerusalem appear on the U.S.-Mexico border. AI surveillance tested in Gaza is marketed to authoritarian regimes worldwide.

For Big Tech, Israel is both a lucrative client and a proving ground. By embedding themselves in Israel’s military machine, Microsoft, Google, Amazon, and Palantir co-develop technologies of repression that can be scaled up and sold across the globe. Gaza’s destruction becomes not only a geopolitical project but also a business model for surveillance, war and genocide.

The UN Rapporteur’s Warning

The United Nations Special Rapporteur on Palestine, Francesca Albanese, has already sounded the alarm. In her report to the Human Rights Council, she documented the deep involvement of U.S. Big Tech in Israel’s 21-month assault on Gaza, stressing how these corporations enable war crimes by providing critical infrastructure and services.

Her findings underline a simple truth: Big Tech is not a bystander. It is a willing participant in the Gaza genocide and part of imperialist warfare.

Big Tech and the U.S. Military-Industrial Complex

None of this should come as a surprise. The world’s largest technology firms are also the Pentagon’s and NSA’s most valued contractors. Amazon Web Services hosts the CIA’s data; Microsoft Azure powers U.S. defence networks; Google collaborates on AI projects for the military; Palantir was born as a tool for intelligence agencies.

The fusion of Big Tech and the military-industrial-surveillance complex is complete. Israel is one frontline of this project, but it is global in scope. From Gaza to Ukraine, from Baghdad to San Diego, the same corporations profit from surveillance, targeting, and repression.

Resistance and the Road Ahead

There is resistance. Workers at Google and Amazon continue to speak out. Students on campuses across the world are demanding that universities sever ties with war profiteers. Human rights groups are documenting and exposing corporate complicity. In Palestine itself, the resilience of the people against overwhelming odds testifies to the spirit that no algorithm can erase.

But resistance must expand. Just as movements once targeted arms manufacturers that armed apartheid South Africa, so too must we now confront the digital arms dealers of today. Microsoft, Google, Amazon, and Palantir are not mere tech corporations: they are weapons manufacturers of the digital age, producing the infrastructure of genocide.

When Even the CJI Isn’t Safe: Hari Om’s Lynching Tells the Rest

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[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he shocking incident of an attempted assault on the Chief Justice of India Bhushan Ramakrishna Gavai inside his courtroom has shaken the nation. That such acts can be carried out in the name of “Sanatan” reflects the disturbing climate of impunity prevailing in India today. While this may appear to be an isolated incident, it is far from simple. The CJI BR Gavai’s decision not to press charges against the criminal lawyer involved does not erase the deeper malaise—the normalisation of hate, now the most powerful and lethal weapon wielded by hate mongers.

Although the BJP’s top leadership, including the Prime Minister, has condemned the attack, the way hate influencers have turned this into a meme fest on social media is deeply alarming. These posts are not merely justifying the assault but glorifying it. Who is promoting and amplifying these narratives? Will the authorities—particularly the Home Ministry—have the courage to investigate and act against these hate influencers? What stops the government from taking decisive action against these criminals?

At the same time, we must confront the casteist undercurrents that fuel such hostility. Those angered by the CJI’s rejection of certain petitions are often driven by deep-seated caste prejudice. Many of these lawyers thrive on manufacturing controversies; there is an entire ecosystem built around exploiting the legal system to prolong communal and caste disputes. Having stirred up cases around Kashi and Mathura, they now seek to “dig” into every site and every issue, weaponizing faith and legality to serve hate.

Once, the law was India’s greatest strength—our shield against injustice. Today, it has become a tool in the hands of the privileged, a weapon of the dominant to preserve the status quo and suppress the marginalised. Justice, for the ordinary citizen, feels more distant than ever.

What the Chief Justice faced was not a mere outburst—it was caste hatred. The fact that it is being “celebrated” on social media speaks volumes. The same hate mongers who abuse Dalits, Adivasis, and Muslims are now glorifying an attack on the head of the judiciary—and nothing happens to them. They know well that in the name of “Sanatan,” they can say or do anything and still escape accountability.

Hari Om’s Lynching: The Real Face of ‘Sanatan Justice’

This is why the Supreme Court must take up the case of Hari Om, who was brutally lynched just yesterday. The Court should order a comprehensive probe into caste crimes and hate crimes—go to the roots, enforce its own judgments, and ensure genuine implementation.

Tragically, the case of Hari Om has also exposed the hypocrisy of political parties and many so-called Bahujan intellectuals. The Samajwadi Party chief, Akhilesh Yadav, who never misses a chance to comment on stray cattle, has maintained a shameful silence. The Bahujan Samaj Party, too, has not spoken officially, despite a few sympathisers expressing concern online. The Congress has issued a tepid response, appearing hesitant and half-hearted. Are they all afraid of alienating caste groups implicated in the violence? Their silence is nothing short of atrocious.

Both the attack on the Chief Justice of India and the mob killing of Hari Om are caste crimes committed by those shouting victory slogans of “Sanatan Dharma.” The same ecosystem that glorifies hate is celebrating these incidents.

I do not expect much from political parties that operate purely on electoral calculations. But what explains the silence of intellectuals and activists who claim to stand for justice and equality? The Supreme Court must intervene, order a full investigation, and ensure that such caste-driven hate crimes are neither ignored nor repeated.

City of Joy, City of Safety: NCRB Names Kolkata India’s Safest Again

Delhi: For the fourth consecutive year, Kolkata has emerged as India’s safest city, according to the latest National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) 2023 report. Among 19 major Indian metros with populations above 20 lakh, the city recorded the lowest rate of cognisable offences — 83.9 per lakh population, showing a steady decline from 86.5 in 2022 and 103.5 in 2021.

This sustained performance places Kolkata ahead of cities like Pune, Hyderabad, and Chennai. Police officials attribute the trend to the use of surveillance technology, stronger night patrolling, improved community policing, and a visible focus on women’s safety.

Equally significant is the improvement in crime against women. The NCRB data reveals a drop from 1,890 cases in 2022 to 1,746 in 2023. The city’s **crime rate against women—25.7 per lakh population—**remains one of the lowest in India’s major metros, a fact that has drawn both praise and scrutiny.

Mamata Credits Kolkata Police, Warns Critics Against ‘Maligning the State’

Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee lauded the Kolkata Police for maintaining peace and safety in the city. At a recent public programme, she remarked, “Kolkata is the safest city in the country, and its police are among the most efficient. People can move freely even at midnight because of the confidence they have in our police. There may be one or two stray incidents, but overall, citizens live in peace.”

Reacting to critics who question Bengal’s law and order, Banerjee added, “According to NCRB, Kolkata has been adjudged the safest city for years. Those trying to malign the state with false narratives are ignoring these facts. I am not bothered by criticism, but I will protest if West Bengal is misrepresented.”

Leaders from her party, the Trinamool Congress (TMC), echoed her sentiment. Minister Shashi Panja said, “The NCRB data vindicates our claim that Kolkata is safe and exposes the baseless political rhetoric of the opposition.” Mayor Firhad Hakim attributed the consistent record to “proactive policing, citizen cooperation, and use of modern technology.”

Opposition Questions Data, Cites Underreporting Concerns

While the ruling TMC celebrated the NCRB findings, opposition leaders voiced skepticism. BJP’s Rahul Sinha claimed the ranking “does not reflect ground reality,” alleging that “many crimes go unreported or FIRs are not registered.” Similarly, state BJP president Shamik Bhattacharya called the ranking “a joke of the year,” asserting that NCRB data relies on state-submitted records.

Critics also pointed to the RG Kar Medical College rape-murder case, arguing that high-profile incidents often expose flaws in law enforcement despite positive statistics. The victim’s father told media outlets, “At least 90 per cent of incidents are not registered as FIRs. This report ignores harsh ground realities.”

However, data at the state level presents a broader picture. West Bengal’s overall cognisable crime rate—181.6 per lakh population—remains well below the national average of 433. Experts believe this consistency reflects an improvement in administrative monitoring and an active police network that prioritizes quick response and public trust.

Despite the political debate, the NCRB report reinforces Kolkata’s image as one of the most secure and livable cities in India. While underreporting and isolated cases remain concerns, the downward trend in overall crime and crimes against women indicates that Bengal’s capital continues to chart a positive trajectory in urban safety and governance.

Weaponizing Faith, Normalizing Hate: The Political Project Behind ‘I Love Mohammad’ FIRs

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[dropcap]C[/dropcap]ommunal violence has been the bane of Indian politics for over a century. Most scholars consider such violence a planned phenomenon. This violence is generally followed by rising communal polarization. Scholars have also observed that “riots produce ethnic polarization that benefits ethno-religious parties at the expense of the Congress.” They maintain that while Hindu-Muslim riots are electorally costly for the Congress, these riots, in effect, strengthen ethno-religious parties at the expense of multi-ethnic ones like the Congress. True to this observation, more and more pretexts are generated to instigate violence and reap its electoral benefits.

New pretexts continue to be added to the long list—playing loud music in front of mosques, throwing beef in temples, and spreading rumours—each becoming central to the phenomenon of spreading hate. To this has been added the demonization of Muslim kings, accusations of temple destruction by them, the claim that Islam was spread by the sword, and the portrayal of large Muslim families as a threat to Hindus’ becoming a minority in the country. In recent decades, new hate-creation mechanisms have emerged around issues such as cow protection, beef-eating, “love jihad,” and many other imagined jihads—the most notorious being “Corona Jihad,” “Land Jihad,” and, most recently, “Paper Leak Jihad.”

All this comes to mind as the country now witnesses violence constructed around an innocuous slogan—“I Love Mohammad.” It began in Kanpur, when, during Milad-un-Nabi—the procession celebrating the birthday of Prophet Mohammad—some people objected to the banner “I Love Mohammad,” claiming that a new tradition was being added to the religious festival. A section of the police accepted this argument and filed FIRs against those carrying such posters. This was a complete violation of democratic norms. A peaceful procession expressing love and respect for the Prophet cannot be seen as a breach of any law. Yet, violence around this issue spread to several districts across Uttar Pradesh.

When Faith Becomes a Faultline

The Kanpur incident was the first, followed by similar episodes in Bareilly, Barabanki, Mau, and in Kashipur of Udham Singh Nagar district in Uttarakhand, among several other places. In each instance, poster-tearing and violence followed, further vitiating the atmosphere. According to the documentation by the Association for Protection of Civil Rights (APCR), there have been 21 FIRs related to the “I Love Mohammad” campaign, affecting 1,324 people, with 38 arrests. In Bareilly, the internet was suspended for a few days, and local leader Maulana Tauqeer Raza Khan was placed under house arrest for a week. He alleged that Muslims were being harassed indiscriminately. He had called for submitting a memorandum on the Kanpur incident but did not turn up himself, which led to chaos. This irresponsible act resulted in the arrest of many Muslims.

This entire sequence of events brought to the fore the deep-seated hatred against Muslims. As often happens, top communal leaders gave dog whistles that triggered local elements to intensify their hate campaigns, ultimately leading to violence. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has been doing this time and again, mostly around election periods. This time, their campaign has revived the term “ghuspaithiye” (infiltrators), a word that has become a curse for Muslims, especially in Bihar and Assam. One justification for the dreaded Special Intensive Registration (SIR)—which the government plans to expand nationwide after Bihar—is that over 47 lakh voters were disenfranchised there under its pretext.

Hate as a Political Strategy

In Uttar Pradesh, where the maximum number of such incidents have occurred, Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath made statements unbecoming of a state leader. He said he would “give tickets to hell” to those dreaming of raising the “Gazwa-e-Hind” slogan. But where does this “Gazwa-e-Hind” even come from? Indian Muslims, a section of whom were merely expressing affection with the slogan “I Love Mohammad,” are now being accused of something they never invoked. The term “Gazwa-e-Hind” has been used by Taliban-type groups, and the Hindu Right is now accusing the entire Muslim community of harboring this idea. As such, “Gazwa-e-Hind” finds no mention in the Quran. It appears only in a doubtful Hadith, and even there, the term “Hind” refers to Basra, not India. Some hotheads in Pakistan have used it metaphorically to describe wars with India, but to generalize this to all Indian Muslims is malicious and absurd.

Yogi further claimed that “I Love Mohammad” posters were being used to instill anarchy. He urged Hindus to stay alert against “anti-Hindu and anti-national activities” (Indian Express, Mumbai Edition, September 29, p.6). This is a shocking attempt to create ill will against India’s largest minority. How can such a slogan—an expression of faith and affection—be seen as anarchic or anti-national? Such statements defy democratic values and the constitutional right to free expression.

Weaponizing Festivals, Wounding Fraternity

The “I Love Mohammad” episode is yet another attempt to intimidate and marginalize Muslims. A peaceful display of affection for one’s Prophet falls squarely within the bounds of democratic expression. Ironically, while Muslim processions are being criminalized, Hindu religious processions such as those on Ram Navami often feature DJs blasting loud music, with saffron flags hoisted atop mosques. Some of our festivals are being weaponized. As documented by Irfan Engineer and Neha Dabhade in their book Weaponization of Hindu Festivals, ground-level investigations show that the Ram Navami procession, in particular, has often been used to create nuisance around mosques and Muslim-majority areas. The converse of this is the demonization of Muslim festivals—Milad-un-Nabi with its “I Love Mohammad” banner being a painful example.

Such hateful responses to Muslim festivals deepen the partition of hearts, fuel polarization, and erode the spirit of fraternity—an essential value enshrined in the Indian Constitution. The statements made by the UP Chief Minister also violate constitutional morality. In such times, the Muslim community must remain realistic and cautious, avoiding any pretext that communal forces could exploit to demonize them further.

‘Betrayal of Ladakh’: Rahul Gandhi, Kharge Slam Modi Over Killing of Kargil Veteran

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New Delhi: One week after the deadly protests in Leh, the political firestorm surrounding the Ladakh violence has intensified. Rahul Gandhi and Mallikarjun Kharge continue to lambast Prime Minister Narendra Modi for a “betrayal” of Ladakhi citizens, while tensions on the ground and legal maneuvering have added new dimensions to the standoff.

Opposition Renewed: Gandhi and Kharge Amplify Charge of State Violence

Rahul Gandhi, currently in South America, posted a video on X featuring the anguished father of ex-serviceman Tsewang Tharchin, reiterating sharp criticism of the central government. “Father and son — both in the army — yet the BJP government shot and killed this brave son,” he said, demanding a judicial inquiry and “harshest punishment” for perpetrators. He urged Modi to “stop the politics of violence and fear.”

Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge echoed the sentiment, asserting that Ladakh’s grief is “the sorrow of the nation.” He contrasted the 2025 killing of a war veteran with the apparent “clean chit” extended to China after the 2020 Galwan clash, asking, “What respect will they show for the martyrdom of brave soldiers like Tsewang Tharchin?”

Key Developments Since the Firing

Magisterial Probe but Rejected by Ladakhi Leaders

The Ladakh administration has directed a magisterial (SDM-level) enquiry into the September 24 violence, with instructions to submit a report within four weeks. But both the Leh Apex Body (LAB) and Kargil Democratic Alliance (KDA) have rejected this, demanding that any probe be a judicial inquiry to ensure impartiality. They have suspended talks with New Delhi until detainees are freed and a credible investigation is guaranteed.

Partial Releases and Continued Detention of Wangchuk

In a gesture seen as de-escalatory, the government released 26 persons detained during the protests. Families and local leaders welcomed them in Leh, though activist Sonam Wangchuk remains in Jodhpur jail, held under the National Security Act (NSA).

On October 2, his wife Gitanjali J Angmo filed a Habeas Corpus petition in the Supreme Court, challenging his detention as arbitrary and unconstitutional. She raised questions about lack of access to him, his health, and the absence of clarity on the reasons for detention. The SC, currently on recess, is likely to convene on October 6 to hear the petition.

Ground Conditions & Local Response

Curfew restrictions and internet blackouts persist in Leh, though authorities have eased some curbs, allowing schools up to Class 8 to reopen.

Meanwhile, the LAB has formally declined further talks until normalcy is restored, citing “an atmosphere of fear and anger” across the region.

Narratives of National & Strategic Stakes

Analysts have flagged how unrest in Ladakh carries strategic as well as political risks. A Foreign Policy piece warned that sustained discontent in a border region may strain New Delhi’s broader push to project stability in the Himalayas.

The Ladakh administration, for its part, has defended the moves against Wangchuk and others, stating that actions were based on “credible inputs.”

Tsewang Tharchin, whose death intensified the backlash, was a war veteran of the Ladakh Scouts and community activist. He is survived by his family and was laid to rest under tight security on September 29 in Leh.

What’s at Stake Now

The political contest is no longer just about how the violence began but who bears ultimate responsibility. By framing that a war veteran was gunned down by the state, the Opposition is seeking to redefine the moral narrative.

If the government stops at a magisterial inquiry and holds onto Wangchuk and related detainees, it risks eroding its moral credibility in Ladakh. On the other hand, offering a judicial probe and releasing those held could be framed by BJP critics as succumbing to pressure, though many see it as essential for restoring trust.

Scheduled talks on October 6 now hang in balance. The LAB and KDA have made clear they will not reengage until their conditions — judicial inquiry, release of protesters, free communication with detainees — are met.

In the wider view, Ladakh’s discontent stems from deeper structural grievances: lack of local autonomy, ecological pressures, land rights, and underemployment. The government’s choices in the next few days will determine whether the crisis is defused or deepened into a prolonged political and strategic challenge.

‘Two Constitutions’ Myth: How The Bengal Files Spins Lies About West Bengal

Cinema is a potent vehicle for societal reflection, critique of authority, and the cultivation of empathy. However, when a motion picture selectively manipulates historical facts to advance a political narrative, it functions as propaganda rather than artistic expression. The Bengal Files, directed by Vivek Ranjan Agnihotri, exemplifies this phenomenon. The film presents historical events through an exceptionally partial lens, raising serious questions regarding its fidelity to the historical record and its potential influence on public perception. From a legal and ethical standpoint, the deliberate distortion of history can undermine informed discourse and manipulate collective memory for ideological purposes.

The film is set in the turbulent period of 1946–1947 Bengal, encompassing Direct Action Day, the Noakhali riots, and other episodes of communal violence. These events were undeniably tragic, and their remembrance is crucial. However, the narrative reduces multifaceted historical realities to a simplistic “victims versus aggressors” framework. Hindus are depicted almost exclusively as helpless victims, while Muslim political actors and mobs are cast solely as perpetrators. This portrayal offers little nuance and largely omits the broader socio-political context, raising concerns about selective representation and the distortion of collective memory.

Selective Memory, Skewed Narrative

Dialogues in The Bengal Files further underscore its polemical tenor. One character chillingly asserts:
Jab yeh illegal immigrants ten percent ho jaate hai, toh yeh vote bank ban jaate hai … bees percent ho jaane par yeh apne rights ki demand karte hai … aur tees percent hote hi naye country ki demand karte hai (When these illegal immigrants reach ten percent, they become a vote bank … at twenty percent, they start demanding their rights … and at thirty percent, they demand a new country)”.

This line insinuates that demographic changes are part of a deliberate political strategy, tapping into contemporary anxieties about identity, nationhood, and political power. Another character claims:
Yeh Bharat nahi hai, yeh Pashchim Bengal hai. Yaha pe do constitution chalta hai. Ek Hinduon ka, aur dusra yeh Musalmaano ka (This is not India, this is West Bengal. Here, two constitutions operate: one for Hindus, and another for Muslims)”.

The invocation of “dual constitutions” fosters perceptions of deep division and mutual distrust, portraying the Muslim community as inherently oppositional.

A further example is provided by a character who envisions a Muslim occupying India’s Prime Ministerial office:
Apna naam bata. Taimur. Lekin socho, san 2050, jab yeh India ka pehle yuvaa minority prime minister banega, tab humaari democracy ki kitni badi jeet hogi (Tell me your name.” “Taimur.” “But just imagine, the year 2050, when he becomes India’s first young minority Prime Minister, think of how great a victory it will be for our democracy).”

Dialogues That Fuel Division

Although speculative, this dialogue frames political change as a threat rather than a democratic evolution, leveraging fear to influence audience perception. Collectively, these lines illustrate how selective scripting can manipulate historical memory and contemporary political discourse, raising ethical and socio-legal questions about the responsibility of the media.

Beyond its dialogues, the film relies on visceral visuals to heighten its impact. Scenes depicting massacres, beheadings, and sexual violence are rendered in graphic detail. As noted in the NDTV review, the film is “disturbingly graphic, gory and gruesome.” While cinematic portrayals of violence are not inherently objectionable, here they appear less aimed at illuminating historical truth and more focused on eliciting intense emotional reactions that align with a specific communal narrative. The prioritization of shock over contextual analysis is a hallmark of propaganda, manipulating audience emotions to reinforce a particular ideological perspective.

Shock Over Substance

The timing and context of the film’s release further reinforce its interpretation as a propagandist work. It premiered amid ongoing political campaigns in West Bengal, a state where identity politics remain particularly sensitive. As India Today reported, the release “has sparked political fire over the state’s past,” with debates extending beyond cinematic critique to encompass electoral and communal tensions. Propaganda is most potent when it taps into preexisting anxieties, and the film appears strategically positioned to do so.

Supporters contend that the movie sheds light on historically underrepresented events. Actor Mithun Chakraborty defended the film, asserting to ABP Live, “If we show the truth, it’s called propaganda.” While this defense frames the film as an exercise in historical revelation, a critical reading suggests that selective storytelling and emotionally charged depictions blur the line between historical representation and ideological messaging.

Director Vivek Agnihotri asserts that mainstream narratives have historically downplayed the suffering of Hindus in Bengal. While such intentions may be genuine, intent alone does not shield a work from scrutiny. When historical events are presented selectively, excessively dramatized, and stripped of contextual nuance, the risk of misleading audiences and exacerbating societal divides becomes significant.

Critics have been nearly unanimous in highlighting the film’s agenda-driven storytelling. Cinema Express described it as “reeks of propaganda” and a work that “strives to incite, not introspect.” This critique aligns with the assessment of The Hindu, which panned the film for transforming historical tragedy into a vehicle for present-day political messaging, rather than fostering reflection or reconciliation.

This illustrates the essence of cinematic propaganda: not the invention of events, but the selective framing of truth. By exaggerating specific narratives, projecting fear, and reducing historical complexity to a binary of victim and aggressor, The Bengal Files shapes audience perception in a calculated manner.

The Bengal Files is not merely a historical retelling; it is a narrative filtered through an ideological lens. It relies on selective storytelling, emotionally charged dialogues, and graphic depictions that function less as historical analysis and more as a tool of propaganda. By presenting events in a skewed and one-dimensional way, it risks distorting collective memory, shaping public perception, and inflaming communal tensions. Cinema has the capacity to educate, provoke reflection, and foster empathy, but when used to advance a partisan narrative, it must be scrutinized for its ethical and legal implications. Audiences deserve portrayals of history that are accurate, nuanced, and reflective, not portrayals that exploit tragedy, amplify divisions, or manipulate sentiment to serve contemporary political ends. A film may claim to highlight underrepresented perspectives, but as the critical reception proves, selective framing and emotionally charged dramatization blur the line between storytelling and agenda-driven messaging, making critical engagement by viewers more necessary than ever.

From 1943 Bengal to 2025 Gaza: Behala Friends’ Durga Puja Strikes a Chord

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[dropcap]K[/dropcap]olkata’s Durga Puja is no longer just a puja, it has also become a specimen of artwork. During the days of puja, Kolkata turns into a moving art gallery. People of all religions are enjoying this art without paying any entry fee. Several puja committees this year have, even before the puja formally begins, arranged for special entry passes so that people can see the work of the artists.

One such puja is Behala Friends, which will leave many stunned when they experience it. The theme of the puja is Nabanna—War, Wounds and Hunger. The main artist is Pradip Das. Pradip, one of the members of the Behala-based artist collective Chander Hat, has already created several works in Kolkata pandals on Partition and its pain. This year, the surprise presented by Behala Friends in South Kolkata will undoubtedly create a stir in the minds of people.

When Gaza Meets 1943 Bengal

Who suffers the most in wars? Do those who wage wars or fight in them even get a scratch? When an economic crisis deepens, when food shortages appear, when a small shelter turns into ruins before one’s eyes, perhaps some people enjoy it on the screens of televisions or mobiles—but do we have any idea what effect it leaves on the minds and bodies of those who actually live through it?

A poet named Nima Hassan, unable to find a roof over her head or even a little food, was forced to leave Palestine with her seven children and expressed her condition in poetry. And when the Palestinian theatre worker Riyadah is heard in Arabic saying, “The daily act of making bread no longer exists in this country,” it somehow merges with the image of Bengal’s famine of 1943.

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A mother carrying her child roams the streets of Kolkata in search of some food, her body worn-out and exhausted, while the cry of “fan dao… fan dao…” (give us rice water) echoes around. In some strange way, Gaza of 2025 and Bengal of 1943 blend into one. It is from here that the theme Nabanna of Behala Friends begins.

At the entrance of the pandal, on one side, are the words Free Palestine—this writing, carrying the cries for survival, is also a collection of writings from many people. On the opposite side, the word Genocide is written using the Coca-Cola font. There is a reason behind using this font: these multinationals are the ones who indirectly sponsor such genocides.

From Anne Frank’s Piano to Bengal’s Famine

Next comes the second part of the pandal. Bullet wounds are clearly visible on the walls, and magnifying glasses are placed as part of the installation so that the depth of the wounds can be seen even more starkly.

Behind that, through a small opening, one can see a piano—as if Anne Frank’s hidden piano during the genocide in Germany. In artist Pradip Das’s conception, this piano is like the hidden piano from Roman Polanski’s 2002 Polish film The Pianist. Even when everything is snatched away, even when everything is lost, somehow something remains, surviving again out of the ruins.

Then come the locusts, and with them the famine of Bengal in 1943. Although the soil of Bengal was so fertile and so full of crops, how the people of Bengal suffered such misery—because of colonial rulers, profiteers and neglect—has been tried to be portrayed in the third section of the pandal.

Those memories were kept alive by the artists, writers and playwrights of that time. The poetry of Sukanta Bhattacharya, the plays of Bijon Bhattacharya, the paintings of Somnath Hore, Chittaprosad and Zainul Abedin all captured the images of that period. Fragments of those poems, plays and pictures have again been brought alive in the brushes of Pradip Das and other collaborating artists. For the past three months, with tireless labour, the pictures of people’s cries from Bengal’s famine have been merged with the cries of survival from today’s Gaza.

bengal durga puja gaza genocide famine behala friends kolkata Behala Friends

History Repeats Through Hunger

Journalist and historian Vijay Prashad, in a 2025 essay, wrote that in 2024, those who survived in Gaza were already hungry, and that number is steadily increasing. Yet the food produced in Gaza was enough to feed all the people there, but still, people go to sleep hungry every day.

The condition of the people of Bengal at that time was, in many ways, similar to today’s Gaza. In 1995, Professor Amartya Sen had written that the Bengal famine was not caused by a shortage of food but by unequal distribution of food and the greed of a few people. The income gap between a handful of profiteers and the majority of ordinary people was so wide that, while hoarders flourished, mothers with emaciated children in their arms wandered the streets of Kolkata in search of a morsel of food.

It may be that the geographical distance between Gaza and Bengal is 5,000 kilometres, the difference in time more than 80 years, but somehow the cries of ordinary people from both places merge into one. And this work of merging has been achieved by artist Pradip Das.

George Orwell once wrote—those who propagate for war, those who want war, do they themselves ever go to war? Then for whom is this destruction written? In 1995, Mahasweta Devi wrote that history is not just the stories of kings and rulers, of bravery and valour; history is also the story of people’s sweat, blood and labour. History also tells the story of people’s daily survival.

That is why Bijon Bhattacharya, in his play Nabanna, brought the stories of those people, saying, “We did not die in famine, we built our homes upon dead bodies.”

This pandal in Behala not only rekindles those memories, it also provides food for thought. That is why, standing before the idol of Durga, one finds reflections of that time. Yet within it, there is also hope, there is also survival. Amidst the conflict of good and evil arises another maternal figure. Somewhere, Gaza’s Nima Hassan and the mothers of Bengal from that time merge into one. There remains no distance of space or time.

If someone calls this pandal a work made only about Gaza or Palestine, that would be wrong; and if someone says it has captured only the famine of Bengal in 1943, that too would be wrong. Space, time and people all fuse together and take form through the artistry of Pradip Das. Through a combination of images, poems and songs, Kolkata sees its neighbour 5,000 kilometres away. It identifies with the mother of 80 years ago.

Nabanna means the festival of survival; Nabanna means the celebration of food.

When Pather Panchali Challenges Bengal Files: A Puja Tells Kolkata’s Forgotten Story

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[dropcap]O[/dropcap]ne of South Kolkata’s most well-known roads is Leela Ray Sarani, also known as Sarat Bose Road. Cutting across Southern Avenue, many streets flow into Rashbehari Avenue. By one such street, the Samajsebi Sangha was founded in 1946. Among its founders was Leela Ray, who had once worked alongside Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. Many might assume that this year’s puja theme at Samajsebi Sangha is about social service. But that is not the case. Instead, it is about remembering the history of how, after the communal riots of 1946 in Kolkata, Leela Ray, Meghnad Saha, and others stood with riot victims, leading to the creation of Samajsebi Sangha. Hence, the theme has been named Pather Panchali.

At a time when a non-Bengali filmmaker is attempting to distort history in the name of showing atrocities by the majority community during the Kolkata riots, this puja has sought to highlight how a street in this very city became a symbol of communal harmony. Artist Pradip Das has tried to depict this, and he deserves credit for choosing this moment. He has worked on such concepts before in several Kolkata pujas, but this year’s choice of theme is particularly meaningful. Bengali history, he reminds us, is essentially a history of secularism, often chronicled in print through various presses. To symbolise this, at the entrance of the pandal he has placed a printing press and the cover of a book titled Manifesto of Secular Bengalis. It makes one feel that no matter how hard divisive forces try, Bengal’s soil will remain an unyielding fortress of unity.

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A Street That Opened Its Doors in 1946

Every street has its own history, and re-presenting that history for our times is undoubtedly praiseworthy. The neighbourhood around Samajsebi Club also carries its own stories—not just as history but as lived memory. The old louvred windows, car porches, large mirrors, and the people of the area have preserved that memory. When fratricidal riots broke out in Kolkata in August 1946, it was the residents here who opened their doors in the name of unity and peace. This is the history of Samajsebi Club, still remembered by many. Leela Ray, through her association with Subhas Bose, worked with like-minded individuals to bring relief to riot-affected people. After the riots of August, she took the initiative to establish this club, and the puja began that very year. It was never merely a religious festival for the majority community—it stood from the outset as a celebration of social solidarity, communal harmony, and resistance to violence. This is why, even today, the sound of the azaan at the entrance of the puja remains an integral part of its journey.

When films like The Bengal Files spread half-truths, it becomes essential to highlight the resistance that existed in those times. That is what this puja’s theme attempts to do. Beyond the narrative of communal violence instigated by the Muslim League, sections of the Hindu Mahasabha, the British rulers, and Mohammad Ali Jinnah—there also existed resistance and efforts to halt the riots. This too was a major part of that era, and the artist has sought to portray it. Surveillance aircraft, vultures, truckloads of weapons, sirens, and bomb blasts were everyday scenes then. This dark period is shown in the pandal, alongside the humanity that also prevailed. Figures like Leela Ray, Jadunath Sarkar, Meghnad Saha, Sarat Bose, and many others rose to defend Kolkata’s communal harmony, and their contribution has been powerfully depicted.

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Trucks That Carried Both Weapons and Relief

All around the pandal are images of trucks. Just as those trucks once carried weapons for riots, they were also used by Leela Ray and Ashrafuddin Ahmed Chowdhury to rescue riot victims. Historian Soumya Basu’s writings mention such examples. When the riots subsided, it was decided that a dedicated organisation should be formed for social service—and thus Samajsebi was born. This year’s 2025 puja has therefore gone beyond ritual, becoming a witness to history. Houses that still stand today have had their façades decorated with images and cut-outs of hope from that time. During the Second World War, 142 Lake View Road housed an American military hospital. Later, its staff joined Leela Ray and her associates in aiding riot victims. Several books record stories of those times: how Haider Ali of old Ballygunge Circular Road was saved by his Hindu neighbours, or how TN Ghosh of Amir Ali Avenue was rescued from Hindu rioters by a Muslim family.

Such stories live on in the memories of the people of this area, where the spirit of secular humanism triumphed over destructive forces. If the scattered newspaper clippings of those days were pieced together, they would reveal an alternative narrative—one that stands against propaganda films like The Bengal Files which rely on half-truths. Offering such alternatives is the true task of an artist, and that is exactly what Pradip Das has done in this year’s Samajsebi puja. This puja is, in essence, a collection of memories. Memories as simple as sharing tiffin at school, where Hindu and Muslim made no difference then, and still do not today. That is why historian Susnato Das’s words resonate strongly within this pandal: “After 1945, the British wanted to continue ruling India from outside, but they feared that if Hindus, Muslims, Christians, and Sikhs united under one flag as they did in Netaji’s Azad Hind Fauj, their rule would collapse.”

The naval mutiny and labour movements of that era displayed such unity. To counter it, the British sowed seeds of communal division, splitting workers and peasants along religious lines. Yet, they ultimately failed. This is why Samajsebi’s Pather Panchali speaks of an alternative vision, one that every Bengali should see. It reminds us how deep-rooted the history of secularism in Bengal truly is. And even though this year’s heavy monsoon rains may have caused much damage, if one gets the chance, one must visit Samajsebi’s puja in South Kolkata at least once.

The piece has been translated from a Bangla piece, published at inscript.me.

Mad, Musical, and Magnificent: Remembering Zubeen Garg

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[dropcap]I[/dropcap] am contemplating whether I should write about Zubeen Garg’s art or his personality. You are familiar with his literary music work and have studied it in detail too, so I would rather write about the person. It’s possible that many of us (including myself), who have been detached from Axhom or from North East India, know very little about him—or perhaps nothing at all. Very well then, let’s talk about the man.

The man, whenever he walked and wherever he went, carried with him: “Mei ghenta care nahi karta hu” (I don’t give a damn about any of them). On the evening of Friday, April 14, 2017, when he walked onto the stage in Guwahati to perform at the start of Bohag Bihu (also known as Rongali Bihu), marking the Assamese New Year, Zubeen was completely enamoured by the huge gathering and the festive mood. He was there to sing only for Xhomiya—for them alone. Zubeen knew every verse, every chord, every tune of his repertoire.

But as he was singing only for the audience, the organisers stopped him midway while performing Dil tu hi bata from Hrithik Roshan’s superhit Krrish 3. According to media reports, the organisers of the Noonmati Bihu Committee stated that they had an agreement with the singer, insisting that he stick only to Assamese songs during his performance.

A Clash at Bihu: Songs, Silence, and Defiance

As the matter persisted, he didn’t say a word in protest. True to Zubeen’s cliché, his silence was taken as assent. There, Zubeen said again: “Mei ghenta care nahi karta hu.” And when that happens, the legendary singer leaves, always being both happy and hurt.

He reached another Bihu function in Guwahati. Here, he broke into a smile. People were excitedly waving at him. He waved back. His face was glowing with happiness. He probably recalled: “Mei ghenta care nahi karta hu.” Zubeen, the man, sang songs till past 2 a.m.

News spread like wildfire in Assam. By Saturday morning, social media was abuzz with the issue. Hundreds of Assamese and others jumped into the debate. A news report published by The Hindustan Times was titled, “Assam split over singer Zubeen refusing to sing only non-Hindi songs for Bihu.”

“It was an insult to Zubeen that he wasn’t allowed to sing his own song. The way the organisers stopped him midway was bad. I stand with Zubeen,” popular Assamese actor Jatin Bora told journalists in the report.

But this man was above all this. He didn’t feel betrayed, cheated, or exploited by what had happened.

A friend who lives near Sharabbhati (a locality in Ulubari, Guwahati) narrated a memorable incident of Zubeen. People who knew him admit that he could work throughout the night and preferred spending the day at home with family members and his dogs.

The Night Wanderer: Anecdotes of a Mad Genius

It was midnight, and Zubeen was engrossed in adda mari (an informal gathering of like-minded people) in one corner of a residential colony in Guwahati. A man in messy clothes stood by and shouted: “Tu Zubeen hai na? (You are Zubeen, right?).” Even before Zubeen could reply, he added: “Tu bhi meri tarah raat ko ghumta hai.. Pagla! (You too roam like me in the night…mad).” But what came next surprised everyone. “Main toh paagal hoon hi” (I am a declared mad person), said the man in messy clothes, before disappearing into the darkness.

Much later, early this year, in an interview, Zubeen accepted this truth to heart. “I am mad, I want to give everything of mine to people,” he told POP Pavelopedia in January.

Beyond powerful voices, romantic ballads, and mournful songs in dozens of languages, Zubeen’s lifelong friend was the common man. They served as his eyes and ears, his advisers and aides in all his pursuits and interests. The smiling legend—who played multiple instruments, acted in films, composed scores, and filled concert venues—devoted hours and hours to distributing medicines, food, shelter, and solace to whoever approached him.

Friend of the Common Man: Music, Charity, and Humanity

There are hundreds of people ready to recount anecdotes about Zubeen’s love for Assam and his affection for the common man. He made huge donations to various social causes. His charity, the Kalaguru Artiste Foundation, donated generously during floods in Assam and beyond. People recall that Zubeen even played charity football matches to raise funds for flood-affected communities.

This story is just one of the folklores that add to the mystique of Zubeen. During the COVID-19 pandemic, this man even offered his two-storey residence in Guwahati to be used as a COVID Care Centre, helping to address the urgent shortage of beds during the crisis.

Zubeen was preternaturally refined. He had the time and freedom to pursue his interests and take care of himself, his family, his friends, and anyone who came within his horizon—the poor, the needy, the chailwallah, the orphan, the destitute, or the patient lying outside on the footpath of a hospital. In each one of them, he discovered form, fragrance, tone, colour, and texture. His works and deeds were both philosophical and abstract. With his music and his acts of generosity, this man fascinated Assam and the nation for over three decades.

However, the story of Assam’s eternal man is hidden and untold. Not his death, though—and let’s accept this: ৰাইজ (pronounced as raiz, meaning people or public in Assamese).