BARRED & SCARRED by border gates

Their lives are governed by the clockwork precision with which the iron gates open and shut. Subhro Niyogi & Subhro Maitra report from the border villages of Malda
Guests at Rakiba Khatoon’s wedding reception had an unusual request. 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 home. It opens at 8 am and shuts at 8 pm. But he returns home once a week, spending 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 . Dui Sata Bigha/Hadinagar/Mohabbatpur (Indo-Bangla border), Malda: Rakiba, Aynul and Konika 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 friends. But their behaviour and social interaction is governed by a couple of formidable iron gates. These 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 as entry and exit through the gate is restricted. And while Khatoon’s in-laws sought special permission for the reception, those who couldn’t show EPICs were turned away by BSF. These three and nearly 4,000 others of Dui Sata Bigha, Hadinagar and Mohabbatpur along the Indo-Bangla border in Malda are Indian citizens living on home 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 fence and the pillars that demarcate the international border with Bangladesh. “It’s a life of zillat (humiliation). People raise fingers and treat us with contempt. We have to suffer it all without a whimper. With 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 his 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, 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 Hasem Khan Choudhury) tries to woo us with the same promise. Even CPM MLA Biswanath Ghosh has the same goodie to offer,” recalled Krishno Mandal. Needless to say, the promises echoed during campaigns promptly evaporate later. These men, women and children of a lesser nation continue to face the daily ordeal of scrutiny and search by gun-toting BSF jawans. “Be it going to school or work, a visit to a relative’s place or simply to shop for daily provisions, one has to seek BSF’s permission. Aren’t we Indian citizens? Don’t we live in Indian territory?” asked 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 expletives. 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 high temperature. I knew a doctor needed to see him and pleaded with the jawans to open the gate. But they just looked the other way. It is God’s grace that he survived.” These ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ that haunt mothers, don’t bother border patrols. They have a bigger task at hand: to protect the motherland. “We cannot afford to slacken the vigil. There are constant infiltration attempts by jihadis. 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 some 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 barely manage to eek out a living. What will they live on once they are shifted out?” said Kasimuddin Mia, former member of the local panchayat.