Pushed back into Bangladesh last year, 6 men from Murshidabad will vote to prove where they belong

MURSHIDABAD: For years, elections for Minarul Sheikh were about the familiar litany of roads, jobs, ration and the hope that something might change.

This time, standing outside his mud-walled house at Beldanga in West Bengal's Murshidabad district, with a plastic folder containing documents tucked under his arm, the 34-year-old said he would walk to the polling booth not merely to vote, but to take back what was "snatched" from him - the right to belong.

"Last year, they threw me into another country, saying I was not Indian. This vote is my answer," Sheikh said, clutching the voter slip that he got back after eight months, four hearings and repeated visits to the block office.

Minarul is among six migrant workers from Murshidabad, who were picked up in Maharashtra in June last year, branded Bangladeshis, pushed across the border and briefly lodged in Bangladesh before being brought back after the West Bengal Police established their citizenship.

The six men had travelled to Maharashtra for work and returned carrying not only trauma but also a new fear -- that even after coming home, they would have to prove they belonged to the country.

In villages across Beldanga and Hariharpara, this fear now hangs over the assembly election campaign.

For many around them, this election is about change, anger against the ruling party, or lack of jobs. For these six families, it has become an election about identity.

This anxiety is sharper in Muslim-majority Murshidabad, where the TMC had swept most of the district's 22 seats in 2021. According to the revised electoral rolls, 7.48 lakh names have been deleted from the district, triggering apprehension across villages where many migrant families fear that they would be treated as outsiders.

"I am not voting for rice, money or promises. I am voting to show that I am an Indian and nobody can throw me out again,” said Mahboob Sheikh, 36, from Hariharpara.Mahboob said when he went to check the draft electoral roll in January, his name was there, but the name of one of his family members had disappeared.

"We stood in line three times. They asked for Aadhaar, voter card, land paper, everything. We submitted all papers. If we had all this, why were we called Bangladeshis in the first place?" he said.

A woman family member, sitting beside him, broke down. "When he was taken away, we wondered whether we would again see him or not. I want to vote so that no one can question us again."

Nazimuddin Mondal of Hariharpara still keeps the 300 Bangladeshi Taka that was given to him before being pushed across the border. "I have kept it as evidence. Whenever I feel weak, I look at it and remind myself of what happened," he said.

Nazimuddin said his name made it to the voters' list after repeated hearings, but that of his younger brother has still not been restored.

"Officials say there is some discrepancy. We have the same house and papers. Then why is one brother Indian and the other missing from the list," he asked.

Shamim Khan, another of the six, said the coming polls have left him angrier than excited.

"Earlier, we voted on who would build roads or give work. Now we are voting to protect our own existence," he said.

His mother Ruksana Begum said the family still remembers the night police allegedly barged into their room in Maharashtra.

"They dragged my son away because he spoke Bengali and had Bangladeshi numbers in his phone. If speaking Bengali becomes a crime, what is left for people like us?" she said.

Nizamuddin Sheikh, who spent two days in a Bangladeshi detention camp before returning, said he has stopped going outside West Bengal for work. "I used to think poverty was the biggest problem. Now I know losing your identity is worse," he said.

Another worker, Jamaluddin Sk, said he had voted in every election since turning 18, but this will be the first time he will enter the booth carrying all his documents.

"My father voted, my grandfather voted. Yet they asked me to prove I am Indian. This election is not about choosing a party. It is about proving we exist," he said.

The issue has entered the campaign in Murshidabad, where political parties are trying to turn the men's ordeal into competing narratives.

Senior TMC leader and MP Abu Taher alleged that the incident showed how "BJP governments treat Bengali-speaking Muslims as suspects".

"These men were thrown into Bangladesh despite having documents. This election is about protecting Bengal's people and identity," he said.

Congress leader Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury said the case exposed "the collapse of institutions".

"When genuine citizens have to stand in a queue and prove they are Indian, democracy itself is on trial," he said.

The BJP rejected the charge, saying infiltration remains a major concern in Bengal and that no genuine citizen would be harassed. “If there were mistakes, these should be corrected. But the larger issue of infiltration cannot be brushed aside. The TMC is trying to politicise isolated incidents,” a district party leader said.

Back in Beldanga, Minarul says he no longer talks about politics with neighbours. He only speaks on April 23, the first phase polling day in West Bengal. The second round is on April 29 and counting on May 4.

He has kept every document- Aadhaar, PAN, voter card, land deed and the photocopy of the application that restored his name to the rolls- wrapped in a polythene packet in his cupboard.

"Earlier, I used to think my vote was just one vote. Now I feel it is proof that this country is mine."

Across the riverine belt of Murshidabad, where migration to states in north and south India is common, the story of the six men has travelled from tea stalls to mosque courtyards. In several villages, residents say they now check the electoral rolls more carefully than before, and are fearful that a missing name can become the first step towards being marked as an outsider.

At Hariharpara, neighbours gathered around Mahboob's house as he displayed the fresh voter slip he received last week. There was no celebration, only relief.

For them, the ballot is no longer a choice between parties but a certificate of belonging.