Raju Korti
I find myself looking at the
unfolding West Bengal assembly elections with a sense of déjà vu, layered with
unease. Elections in India are often intense, but this one feels distinctly
more turbulent, almost existential. For Mamata Banerjee and her Trinamool
Congress, the stakes are nothing short of political survival. For the Bharatiya
Janata Party, it is an opportunity to breach what has long been a formidable
bastion. Exit polls, as always, speak in discordant voices, yet there is a
perceptible suggestion of a churn, even a possible upheaval.
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| The exodus after 1971 war (file grab) |
If a new political dispensation were to pursue a stringent policy of identification and deportation, the implications would be immediate and profound. A reverse migration of even a fraction of these numbers would place extraordinary pressure on Bangladesh, particularly Dhaka. This is a country already grappling with economic headwinds, currency stress, and periodic political unrest. Its population density is among the highest in the world, exceeding 1,200 people per square kilometre. Urban centres are stretched, infrastructure is fragile, and employment generation struggles to keep pace with demographic realities.
To suddenly absorb a large influx of returnees, many of whom may have lived in India for years or even decades, would not merely be an administrative challenge. It would be a humanitarian, economic, and political test of considerable magnitude. Housing, employment, healthcare, and social integration would all come under strain. The spectre of informal settlements expanding around Dhaka and other cities is not difficult to imagine. Nor is the potential for social friction, particularly if returnees are perceived as outsiders in their own country.
At moments like this, history offers both perspective and caution. In 1971, during the Bangladesh Liberation War, India received an estimated 10 million refugees fleeing violence in what was then East Pakistan. States like West Bengal, Assam, and Tripura bore the brunt of this influx. India, despite its own economic limitations at the time, opened its borders and treated these refugees as guests. Camps were set up, international assistance was mobilised, and an enormous humanitarian effort was undertaken. The strain was immense, but it was managed with a combination of political will and societal resilience.
The parallel is not exact, but it is instructive. Then, India was the recipient of a refugee tide driven by conflict. Today, Bangladesh could potentially face an inward surge driven by policy enforcement across the border. The difference lies in preparedness and context. India in 1971 had the moral clarity of a humanitarian crisis unfolding next door. Bangladesh today would be dealing with a more complex situation involving identity, legality, and economic capacity.
Yet, it would be simplistic to assume that such a scenario is inevitable. Deportation at this scale is not merely a political decision. It requires legal processes, bilateral coordination, and verification mechanisms that are often painstakingly slow. Questions of documentation, proof of origin, and human rights obligations complicate any mass exercise. Even if the political intent is strong, the administrative execution is likely to be gradual and contested.
There is also the alternative scenario. If the Trinamool Congress retains power, the status quo may largely persist. Migration, both legal and undocumented, would continue to be managed in the ambiguous space it has occupied for years. Demographic shifts would remain a subject of political debate rather than immediate policy action. For Bangladesh, this would mean avoiding a sudden shock, though the underlying issues of cross-border movement would remain unresolved.
Between these two possibilities lies a spectrum of outcomes, each carrying its own implications. What is clear to me is that migration in this region cannot be viewed through a narrow electoral lens. It is deeply entwined with history, geography, economics, and human aspiration. Any abrupt attempt to redraw these patterns risks triggering consequences that extend far beyond the immediate political moment.
As I reflect on this, I am struck by the irony of borders that once opened to receive millions in a time of crisis potentially becoming conduits of return under very different circumstances. The subcontinent has lived through the upheavals of partition, war, and displacement. It has also demonstrated an ability to absorb and adapt. The question now is whether that collective memory will guide a measured approach, or whether the pressures of contemporary politics will push the region into another phase of uncertainty.The answer, perhaps, will not emerge from the ballot boxes alone. It will depend on how responsibly power is exercised once the votes are counted.
