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In bitter battle for South Bengal, 2 narratives and many mini-campaigns
Home to 167 of the state’s 294 assembly constituencies, the 10 districts of south Bengal hold the key to the next government.
Jayanta Sadhukhan was 20 when he joined the Victoria Jute Mill in 1980. A resident of Telinipara in south Bengal’s Hoogly district, the young man was glad to secure a job when industrial distress was already visible in the jute mills that dotted the banks of the Hoogly river. Along with his fellow workers, Sadhukhan joined the Left trade union.
Three years later, problems began. Plagued by labour disputes and poor demand, production at the factory sputtered, but was kept running by interventions by the high court, government, and changing owners. In 2011-12, a dispute with management escalated, and Sadhukhan, along with 23 others, was dismissed.
Sadhukhan alleges no help was forthcoming from any political party – or the union – but he resisted joining the Trinamool Congress (TMC) that had swept to power. When he retired in 2019, he found his work benefits were stuck and decided to join the ascendant Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). “The Left was missing in action and the TMC had so many competing local leaders. I wanted a party that could bring industrial jobs back, and wasn’t controlled by dadas,” he said. The mill administration denies his charges.
Nowadays, he has new mill worker friends. Manoj Kumar Choudhury went to the local Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) shakha as a child and Om Prakash Mahato has been a part of the local BJP for 10 years. Together, they form the grassroots base that helped the BJP unexpectedly win the Hoogly Lok Sabha seat in 2019.
BJP workers claim the victory prompted some lower-level TMC workers to switch allegiances, sometimes in secret – akin to how many Left workers had backed TMC even while holding party positions in 2011. “It is not a big phenomenon yet, but among 10-15% workers, it is happening,” said local BJP leader Kamalakar Gupta.
The TMC denies this and points out that the ruling party led in the Chandannagar assembly segment even during the 2019 polls.
“The BJP has changed. It has become a real force this time,” said Choudhury.
Telinipara has changed too. Last May, during the nationwide lockdown, the area was rocked by communal clashes after some Muslim residents were taunted as “corona”. Houses and shops were burnt, bombs were hurled, and the police arrested hundreds of people. Telinipara votes on Saturday; an undercurrent of tension is still palpable among the communities, and local residents say they are more aware of religion while voting than ever before.
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A hundred and fifty kilometres away, a completely different dynamic is playing out in the remote Sunderbans island of Ghoramara.
Suranjana Ghorui’s family are not traditional TMC supporters but are impressed with the ease with which the college student was enrolled in Kanyashree Prakalpa, a flagship state government initiative that gives cash transfers to keep girls in school.
“When I was in class 8, the class teacher came to us and asked who among us would be eligible for the scheme. I gave my Aadhaar card and filled a few documents, and without a hitch, received the scholarship,” said Ghorui, who is now pursuing an undergraduate degree in science in the nearby Namkhana town.
Under Kanyashree, the TMC claims to have disbursed benefits to roughly seven million women and created a potent vote base in the process. “All of the state government’s 64 schemes have reached the people and helped them during the lockdown and the pandemic,” said local panchayat chief Sanjib Sagar.
It is somewhere between these two narratives that the battle for south Bengal is playing out. Home to 167 of the state’s 294 assembly constituencies, the 10 districts of south Bengal hold the key to the next government. It is a TMC bastion and provided most of the 164-assembly segment-wise leads for the party in the 2019 election. The ruling party is especially desperate to hold on to the 80-odd seats in the North 24, South 24 Parganas, and Kolkata.
But the region also encapsulates incredible diversity – from the lush fields abutting the Hoogly and the industrial belt, now pockmarked with shuttered factories, to the swamps of the Sunderbans and the metropolis of Kolkata. The BJP has used a mix of communal polarisation, caste-based mobilisation, development promise, and intensive campaigning by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Union home minister Amit Shah to shore up its fortunes. And, with the voting in 30 seats in south Bengal on Saturday, roughly half of all seats in the region would have gone to the polls.
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There are many distinct mini campaigns within south Bengal. In the belt adjoining the border with Bangladesh that is populated by the Matua sect, both parties are locked in promises of jobs and citizenship. In the 24 Parganas, allegations about corruption in the Amphan cyclone relief and local strongmen politics abound. In Kolkata, the personal appeal of chief minister Mamata Banerjee, and its attempted counter by Shah, and a bevy of BJP leaders take centre stage.
And yet, questions of grassroots corruption and communal polarisation loom large over the entire region. And people like Alok Kumar Gupta are central to it.
“Didi [Banerjee] has pushed us closer to Hindutva. We are not afraid to shout Jai Sri Ram. Why should Hindus be afraid in Bengal?” asked Gupta, a local resident who claimed his plans of becoming a schoolteacher were scuttled by diffident recruitment – an issue that stoked widespread protests in 2017 and 2018.
Allegations of appeasement, not helping Hindu families, and corruption aimed at benefiting the minority community are common refrains in the BJP’s electoral pitch in the area; leaders cite the government’s controversial allowance to imams and stopping of Durga Puja idol immersion for Muharram in 2017 as proof of the alleged appeasement.
“In the last 10-15 years, we have seen some benefits accrue to the Muslims, but this has led to tremendous polarisation at the grassroots level now. Many Hindus, both upper-castes and lower castes, feel that Muslims are taking away their entitlement,” said Abdul Matin, a professor at Jadavpur University.
South Bengal is also where the Sanyukta Morcha of Left, Congress, and a new outfit called Indian Secular Front – formed by influential Muslim cleric Abbasuddin Siddiqui -- can make a mark.
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Bhangar, which votes on Saturday, is one such seat.
The rural constituency on the south-eastern fringes of Kolkata is 70% Muslim and first grabbed headlines in 2017 when local villagers protested a power project backed by the state government. An impasse led to violent clashes and the deaths of two villagers.
The villagers formed Jomi, Jibika, Bastutantra O Paribesh Raksha Committee and fielded nine candidates who filed nominations for the 2018 panchayat elections over WhatsApp – an unprecedented event sanctioned by the Calcutta high court -- after widespread violence prevented them from physically submitting the forms. Five of them won.
“Tension is still running high. The TMC has factional problems and the ISF has created a peculiar situation where the father of the family wants to back TMC but the younger men are crazy about bhaijan,” said Azhar, a local resident. Siddiqui is popularly known as bhaijan.
The TMC candidate, Rezaul Karim, has managed to largely unite the factions and is confident of victory. But he is facing charges that TMC cheated local Muslim families of Amphan relief money. “Bhangar has been tortured. People have not been allowed to vote. I am fighting to give them that right,” said Nausad Siddiqui, Siddiqui’s brother, and the ISF candidate.
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Of course, in every election, there are some issues that never gain political traction. And, despite the focus on south Bengal, Sheikh Saidul is scared that no political party will be of help when his home is lost to the sea.
A marginal farmer, Saidul resides on the small Sunderbans island of Ghoramara that has lost approximately a third of its landmass in the last 25 years as rising sea levels and botched projects to divert the Hoogly have hastened erosion.
The lush, fertile, and remote island is only accessible via a thrice-a-day boat service. Erosion makes building a permanent jetty impossible; at 8 am, housewives, migrant labourers, and farmers balance gingerly on a thin plank of wood onto the boat to make the 40-minute ferry ride to the mainland.
Saidul has lost three houses in the last 10 years as advancing waters on the northern and southern shores of the island claimed his home, playground, courtyard, and entire locality. An old temple is almost inundated, and water is splashing loudly at the walls of the local primary school. But it is not an election issue.
Saidul said he has seen two nearby islands collapse into the sea and would move if he got compensation. Indeed, some people have been rehabilitated in larger islands. “But we don’t have money, where will we go? Who will help us?” he asked. “The water is our biggest terror.”
