BORDERING ON OBLIVION

Picture courtesy: Kamalendu Bhadra

By Subhro Niyogi

Guests at Rakiba Khatoon’s wedding reception had an unusual request to comply with. For security reasons, they had to carry, not the invitation but the electoral photo identity card (EPIC).

Aynul Haque has a small grocery store in the village barely 15 minutes from his home. It opens at 8 am and shuts at 8 pm. But he returns home once a week, spending the other nights at the store.

Class IX student Konika Mandal has several friends at school. Many often invite her to their home. But she cannot ever ask them over to tea.

Dui Sata Bigha/Hadinagar/Mohabbatpur (Indo-Bangla border), Malda: Rakiba Khatoon, Aynul Haque and Konika Mandal are ordinary people leading unusual lives. Khatoon’s in-laws aren’t VIPs. Haque is no eccentric who loves business more than family. Mandal’s parents don’t disapprove of the friends. The reason for this unusual behaviour is a couple of formidable iron gates that regulate their lives. They either imprison them in their villages or shut them out of their homes. They can’t enter or exit the gates without producing a pass. The gates open thrice a day with clockwork precision — 6-8 am; 10-11 am; 2.30-5.30 pm. "To return home, I have to shut shop around 5 pm. That is rather difficult. So I stay back at the store, returning home once a week," explained Haque. Mandal cannot call her classmates because entry and exit through the gate is restricted. And while Khatoon’s in-laws sought special permission for the reception, those who could not furnish EPICs were turned away by Border Security Force personnel patrolling the gates.

These three and nearly 4,000 others of Dui Sata Bigha, Hadinagar and Mohabbatpur along the Indo-Bangla in Malda are Indian citizens living on India soil, yet outside the purview of democracy that the rest of the country enjoys. Sure, they vote. But it’s for a very different reason than why the rest of India does. They vote to stamp their nationality, to demonstrate once more that they are Indians. For, they live a condemned life under the glare of suspicion, constantly providing proof of their identity and yet suspected of being Bangladeshi operatives. Simply because their villages lie in that narrow 150-metre stretch of Indian territory between the border fence and the pillars that demarcate the international border with Bangladesh.

"It’s a life of zillat (humiliation). People raise a finger at us, view with scorn and treat with contempt. We have to suffer it all without a whimper. With literally no rights that other Indian citizens enjoy, polls are meaningless to us. Which party comes to power doesn’t make any difference. They will all ignore our plight. Yet, every eligible voter from the village will cast their ballot. It is one right that we can still exercise and don’t want to lose. For, if we don’t, it will be viewed as lack of Indianness. We vote to prove our patriotism," said Manjur Sheikh of Mohabbatpur.

Their lack of faith in politicians stems from years of hollow promises. During poll campaigns, political leaders from Malda cross the fence and campaign for candidates in the restricted villages, promising rehabilitation and freedom. "Barkatda (late MP Ghani Khan Choudhury) made such promises for years. Now, his brother (present MP A H Khan Choudhury) tries to woo us with the same promise. Even CPM MLA Biswanath Ghosh has the same goodie to offer," recalled a sarcastic Krishno Mandal.

Needless to say, the promises echoed during campaigns promptly evaporate after elections. These men, women and children of a lesser nation continue to face the daily ordeal of scrutiny and search by gun-toting BSF jawans before being let in or out."Be it going to school or work, an everyday chore, a visit to a relative’s place or simply to shop for daily provisions, one has to seek the BSF’s permission. Aren’t we Indian citizens? Don’t we live in Indian territory? Then why are we treated like third-class citizens," questioned an anguished Monoj Mandal, a 36-year-old from Hadinagar.

This vulnerable lot is easy prey to the rotten few in the BSF ranks. Girls have to take their teasing in the stride. "Some jawans have their eyes beyond the border. We have to tackle them," said 15-year-old Seema Mandal. Others have to adroitly sidestep demands for ‘favours’ and be deaf to explitives. But what’s worse is the lack of compassion among a section of the paramilitary force. Cradling her two-year-old baby in her lap, Sakotara Biwi recalled the horror of spending a hapless night with the ailing baby, unable to do anything till the gate opened next morning. "My boy was writhing in pain and ran a high temperature. I knew he needed urgent medical attention and pleaded with the jawans to open the gate. But they just looked the other way. It is God’s grace that he survived. But what if it had taken a turn for the worse?

These ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ that haunt mothers, don’t bother the border patrollers. They have a bigger task at hand: to protect the motherland. "We cannot afford to slacken the vigil. There are constant infiltration attempts by Bangladeshi jihadis. Then there is the fake currency racket where girls and women are used as couriers. Recently, we have confiscated fake currency worth Rs 50 lakh," said a BSF officer of battalion no. 108.

Acknowledging the villagers’ problems, the officer said it would be to everyone’s interest if they were rehabilitated. "True, there is lack of political will to find a solution to the problem. But there is also reluctance among a section of villagers who hobnob with Bangladeshis," he added.

But for most, it’s neither love for one country, nor hatred for the other that have them rooted to the spot. Living below poverty line, they just manage to survive with the little homestead and farmland they have at the border. To let go of the livelihood is to commit suicide. "Most of the people living inside the fence manage to barely eek out a living. What will they live on once shifted out?" said Kasimuddin Mia, former member of the local panchayat.

Sandwiched between suspicions on either side, the villagers don’t even get help from the Indian jawans when Bangladeshi marauders take away their crops. "Though the BSF is at our doorstep, we don’t get any protection when under enemy attack," said Aynul Haque, wondering if the likes of him will ever feel the pride of being an Indian.