How East Pakistan refugees built a new life in Maoist heartland

Uprooted from the lush sweep of Patuakhali along the pristine Laukhati river, 250km off Dhaka, and tossed 1,400km away into the treacherous wilderness of Dandakaranya forests on the Maharashtra-Chhattisgarh border, Bijoy Das points towards the worn-out tin sheds, which were once refugee camps for thousands of persecuted Hindus from erstwhile East Pakistan.Broke and broken, he was 20 when he arrived here. Now he is 72. But Das’ voice still quivers when he recalls the hushed funeral of his sister in his ancestral village.“They dragged my didi (elder sister) away from home. She kept screaming for help, but as a young boy, I stood petrified, helpless. She was raped and killed. Her name was Dulaan. We later found her body afloat in the river,” he says staring out of the window of his hut in Pakhanjore village on the southern tip of the Maoist heartland of Bastar.Standing alongside Das, an elderly Somaresh Singha recounts a chilling tale of escape. “My father walked out of his burning home in a burqa, helped by sympathetic Muslim neighbours in Charbat village of Faridpur district. Mobs went on a killing spree, taking scores of girls hostage. There was no choice but to flee,” he says.Das and Singha’s families crossed over to India on foot, before they were bundled into trains or trucks and transported to Mana transit camp near Raipur, then a key eastern city of undivided Madhya Pradesh (now Chhattisgarh).After wallowing in tents in dense forests for months, they were settled in hamlets in the backwoods that now straddle the Maoist red corridor.There are 2.8 lakh East Bengali refugees spread out across 300 camps in the sprawling Dandakaranya forests, referred to in Hindu scriptures as the “haven of demons”. Many were rehabilitated in Maharashtra’s restive district of Gadchiroli. medium113259376A history of violenceThe killing and persecution had begun long before it came to international notice in 1971. The 1964 Dhaka riots sparked by Kashmir’s Hazratbal shrine incident, underlined the sharp descent to intolerance in East Pakistan. Operation Searchlight in 1970-71, led by the Pakistani army and Razakar militia, marked a period of unspeakable agony for millions of Bengali Hindus.Kalikrishna Biswas, 75, whose entire family was massacred, recalls, “The Razakar militia unleashed by the Pakistan army were brutal.” Pakistan had raised a marauding private army of ‘Bihari’ Muslims, Razakar Al Badr, who did not support the idea of an independent Bangladesh.As violence became rampant, lakhs fled with nothing but clothes on their backs. Amar Mandal from Khulna district recalls crossing the Padma river at night, wading through waterlogged fields, mothers pressing their hands on their children’s mouths to muffle their cries so they wouldn’t be found and killed.Mandal was separated for years from his father who had stayed back. “One day, a telegram came from my father, who was standing at the Indian border. He borrowed money to reach there and was lucky to reunite with his family in Gadchiroli. He had lost everything, but not his life,” says Mandal.Mauled by wild animalsThe struggles of the Mandals and thousands like them didn’t end when they reached India. In the dense forests, wild animals were new tormentors. Many settlers died, mauled by tigers and other beasts.“I’m from Village No. 117. Many children and the elderly were mauled by tigers. There is not a single village where people didn’t fall prey to wild animals. Slowly, we cleared the forests and made the place habitable and grew crops,” says Sunil Biswas, a settler since 1970.The land here was infertile, and the produce was barely enough to feed their families. “After harvest, we would look for odd jobs to make two ends meet,” says Biswas.Many refugees attempted to return to Bangladesh after it gained independence in 1971, but they were soon disillusioned and returned to India.“The 1979 massacre of thousands of refugees in Marichjhapi, an island in Sunderbans, by police in Left-ruled West Bengal doused any hope of getting closer to home. We made Dandakaranya our abode and made peace with the wild,” says Biswas. medium113259411A question of identityA lot has been left behind, but these Bengali hamlets have preserved their culture and religion. In Village No. 53, the sound of evening prayers echoes through the air. At each doorstep, a red ‘gamcha’ tied with rice and jaggery hangs as a symbol of good fortune. Inside, images of ‘Lokhi Thakur’ (Goddess Laxmi) adorn the walls.Settlers in Dandakaranya can be divided into two groups — those who came through official channels from East Pakistan between 1964 and 1971, and those who migrated after Bangladesh was formed. The first group received a ‘border slip’ as proof of refugee status. The others settled without documentation. Some managed to carry only a few valuables or just the family deity or a photograph. Only the lucky were able to carry documents.For first-generation refugees like Jyotishchandra Sarkar, the effort to establish a home has been life-long. “We smashed rocks, cleared forests and built a liveable place in the wilds,” says Sarkar, now 87 years old. Today, the border slip of 1985 remains his only proof of identity.Sukhendu Chakraborty, 68, a resident of Village No. 20 in Gadchiroli, clutches onto a tattered bank passbook, a school certificate and the precious border slip — key documents his father Shishirkanti carried with him while crossing over.“Despite the identity crisis and acute hardships, we flourished,” says Chakraborty, pointing towards what was once the wilds. “We made it a liveable space and grew vegetables. In those years, there was hardly any government footprint here. Nowadays, officials and politicians move into the forests with commandos and anti-mine sweepers in fear of guerrilla ambush. We made peace with nature and its inhabitants.”“Adversity has hardened our will to survive, but we pray for stability and recognition,” he adds.Still statelessDecades later, Chakraborty and countless others who fled Bharramidiya village in East Pakistan’s Faridpur district remain stateless — inhabiting land, raising families and making livelihoods, but struggling to be Indian citizens.Over the decades, many refugees have managed to flourish, with some benefiting from government rehabilitation programmes that provided jobs, land, and the opportunity to build small businesses and farms.However, their progress has not been without setbacks. Bengali-medium schools, specially established by the government for refugee children, have been shut down and many claim they are denied government benefits.Despite these challenges, many settlers till the land without official ownership, their future clouded with uncertainty. medium113259496Bipin Bepari, a member of the Nikhil Bharat Bangali Samanbay Samiti (NBBSS), voices the frustration of many. “We have lived here for decades, but we are still waiting for recognition,” he says, referring to the long-standing wait for land rights.That aside, several second-generation East Pakistani refugees have been absorbed into the mainstream. Jatin Karmakar (name changed), who runs a grocery shop, is euphoric that his son secured a corporate job, a testimony to the perseverance of refugee families.“I crossed over to India in 1981, leaving college midway. Reaching Kolkata through the Barishal border, I joined my relatives in Gadchiroli, who had been here since 1964,” he says.Karmakar leads a regular life in India, but legal complexities surrounding his status linger. “I have an Aadhaar card and a voter ID, but I’m still not an Indian citizen,” he says.Kalikrishna Ghose, who arrived in 1982, shares his story. “I came through an agent. There are many in Bangladesh who help you cross the border. I came to Kolkata and later settled in Chamorshi in Gadchiroli in 1989, where my kin were already living,” he says.However, like many others, Ghose finds himself in a grey area when it comes to citizenship, despite having lived in India for decades.CAA ineffectiveIn 2019, the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) seemed like a beacon of hope for refugees. However, many settlers have found the process difficult, especially for those lacking documents to prove their eligibility.“Many are not applying because they don’t have the documents,” says Subhodh Biswas, president of NBBSS. Of the 221 applications filed under CAA, only six were successful.Relations with local tribals have been choppy. “Initially the Adivasis were indifferent towards us, but tensions grew over years,” says Buddhadeb, adding sporadic campaigns to oust refugees have raised fears among settlers. “We are scared. We pray that Pakhanjore does not end up being a Bangladesh.”The ongoing political turmoil in Bangladesh has triggered another wave of attacks on Bengali Hindus. “My brother keeps calling me on WhatsApp, asking me to come and take him to India,” says Krishna Bose of Chamorshi. “No one is buying our property there. They want Hindus to abandon everything and leave so it can be an easy smash-and-grab.”Recently, about 10,000 Bengali settlers gathered at Pakhanjore and urged the Union government to open India’s borders to Hindus. Biswas says his outfit plans to host similar rallies across Bengali pockets, before launching an agitation on September 23 at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi.