The one who is in the middle

by Subha Protim Roy Chowdhury

In 2026, we find ourselves in a pivotal moment. For the first time ever, the BJP has taken control in West Bengal. Now, with Hindutva advocates in power at both the national and state levels, there is a strong desire to push forward their agenda. Their primary objective is the establishment of a 'Hindu Rashtra'. Consequently, animosity, hatred, and hostility are being perpetuated as part of a larger initiative, with ultra-nationalism being embraced as a core identity.

In reality, those who once sought for the partition of the country—adherents of the 'Two-Nation Theory'—now hold power on both sides of the border. In effect, the ideological descendants of Savarkar and Jinnah, today are the rulers of this divided map—a region once known as 'Bharatbarsha'.

Over the past one and half decades, communal strife has hijacked our tea-table conversations—the very terrain of our discourse. Whether we like it or not, from Dinhata to Dishergarh and from Darjeeling to Diamond Harbour relationships have begun to fray, and fissures have opened up in our minds. With every immersion ceremony, every Ram Navami, and every procession marking Fateha-e-Dwazdaham, we find ourselves counting the moments with bated breath. We shudder upon hearing unfamiliar slogans erupting from processions filled with faces we know so well. The people around us suddenly feel like strangers; voices drift into our ears saying, "Their numbers have swelled significantly," or "Look at how far they’ve gone, emboldened by all the appeasement." "Riot"—the very concept has taken up residence in our minds.

The trajectory of this one-sided discourse—or rather, those individuals who, in a split second, have diverted the shifting sands of polarization into an entirely different channel—are few and far between. Equally rare are those who have managed, even in the slightest degree, to pull off a ‘ruse’ within that eternal game of hide-and-seek between a human being’s communal and humane selves. They resided on the outskirts of this devastated landscape marked by communal strife. They are ordinary individuals just like ourselves. They did not utter gibberish. Milieu of hatred, violence and mutual distrust surrounded them. Even sometimes they were not free from the evil clutches of venomous distrust. However, they engaged in several altruistic actions, expressed certain sentiments, or traveled specific distances that provided significant benefits to society. In response to the communal wrongdoings carried out by the instigators of the riots, their actions contributed to alleviating the atmosphere of animosity. For them some precious lives were saved. Terms such as cohabitation, humanism, and trust regained their former significance due to their humanitarian actions. Concept of India also resurrected.

They were not superhuman. They never asserted such a claim. However, persistent efforts were made to elevate some of them to an Avtar-like status, credit goes to certain intellectuals who lived in ivory towers. ‘AAMRA EK SACHETAN PRAYAS (A Centre for Conflict and Peace Study, Kolkata)’ is, fundamentally, an organization engaged in field research on conflict and coexistence. During various phases of our study on ethnic and communal conflicts, we spoke with a number of such individuals. In Muzaffarnagar, Kokrajhar, Kharmadanga, Basirhat, and Asansol, these people demonstrated to us how it is possible to remain humane—even while situated within a specific community—during the time of extreme conflict.

Dhir Singh: A devil turned into an Angel

To call him a terror would be an understatement; to Muslim women, he was the very embodiment of dread. Dhir Singh—the owner of vast tracts of land and several tractors—is a womanizing haveli owner from Kutbi village in the Muzaffarnagar district of Uttar Pradesh. The Muslims in this region were extremely poor, making Muslim women easy targets for Dhir Singh. From lifting their burqas to catch a glimpse of them in his youth, to abducting them and bringing them to his haveli in his adulthood—all of this was his ‘addiction.’ Whenever he set out on his rounds of the surrounding villages and markets with his motorcycle gang, the women would remain in a state of constant apprehension.

This Hindu Jat-dominated village was under the complete control of the Jats—politically, economically, and socially. In this village, Dalits and Muslims were entirely subservient to the Jats, cultivating the very land owned by them. The Muslim population was confined to a few specific quarters of the village, residing alongside communities such as washermen, blacksmiths, and barbers. Following the riots of 2013, the Muslims fled the village of Kutbi. We spoke with them at the Palda relief camp, located under the jurisdiction of the Shahpur Police Station. Approximately 113 riot-affected families have found shelter there.

Adjacent to the village of Kutbi lay another village named Kutba; during the riots of 2013, the violence in this village assumed a horrific magnitude. Eight people lost their lives in the communal clashes there, and a great many were injured. The homes of Muslims in the village were set ablaze, and widespread looting took place. Kutbi, too, suffered damage in the communal clashes—albeit to a negligible extent compared to Kutba. On previous occasions, whenever communal clashes had erupted in Uttar Pradesh, the Jats and Dalits of Kutbi village had stepped in to protect the village's Muslim residents.

But this time, the situation began to change rapidly. The entirety of western Uttar Pradesh was then gripped by communal violence. Its most horrific manifestation was witnessed in the Muzaffarnagar district. On the night of September 7, 2013, Jats attacked Muslims across most parts of the district. That very night, the Muslims of Kutba came under attack, although Kutbi remained unscathed. Once again, the Muslims of Kutbi placed their trust in their Jat neighbors. Despite the surrounding tension and the pervasive atmosphere of fear, they felt secure. However, that trust did not last long. The very next day—the morning of September 8—groups of Jats began streaming into Kutba; they incited the local Jats, asserting that Muslims could not be trusted and that peace would remain elusive unless they were eliminated. This time, they succeeded. It was 10:00 AM; the apparent ‘peace’ of Kutba was buried in that very moment. Muslim homes were raided. At first, the Muslims could not believe what was happening. During previous riots and periods of unrest, their village had remained untouched—what had gone wrong this time? Wounded, bloodied, and despairing, the Muslims began fleeing in droves to save their lives—scrambling in every direction they could.

Several people had already perished. Muslim huts were engulfed in raging flames. Dilshad was fleeing from the Dhopa Para neighborhood with a group of women and children, desperate to save their lives. All told, the group comprised eight to ten families. Their escape route led them past Dhir Singh’s haveli. They moved stealthily, terrified of falling into the clutches of that vile man. But it seemed their luck had run out; as they rounded a corner, they found Dhir Singh standing right before them. In his characteristic manner—laced with profanity—he demanded to know what was happening and where they were fleeing to. A terrified Dilshad explained the situation as best he could. Without offering a verbal reply, Dhir Singh threw open the haveli’s massive main gates and barked in a hoarse voice, "Get inside!" The group froze; they could not bring themselves to take a single step forward. They imagined being dragged inside only to be slaughtered one by one—or worse, the women being subjected to unspeakable horrors... the very thought was unbearable. Then came another roar: "Hey... (expletive)... move it! Hurry up! As long as I am here, no one—and I mean no one—can lay a finger on you." At that, like a herd of docile buffaloes, they filed into the ‘haveli’. Having received word of the situation, a mob of armed Jats arrived shortly thereafter and encircled the ‘haveli’. From the high rooftops of the fortress-like structure, Dhir Singh and his men returned fire, shouting threats and defiance at the rioters below. Intimidated by his ferocious demeanour, many of the attackers fled. Nevertheless, the battle raged on for several hours. Finally, with the arrival of paramilitary forces, the rioters scattered and fled, leaving the trapped group to be safely rescued.

Ruksana, a member of that group at the Palda camp, stated, "My husband was murdered by his childhood friend—a Jat named Rajan Singh. Initially, he found it hard to accept that a friend could betray him. How profoundly we misjudged individuals! 'He (Dhir Singh) was a devil, yet in our time of danger, he became an angel of Allah.'"

Fact-finding of Muzaffarnagar Riot, 2013

Ukil Mardi: A humble protest

On January 28, 2015, a religious conversion incident occurred in West Bengal. This event was the first of its kind in the state since Narendra Modi took office at the national level. The Bonhat Gram Panchayat, located near Jharkhand, is part of the Rampurhat-I Block in the Birbhum district. Within this Panchayat, Kharmadanga is a village predominantly inhabited by the Santhal community. On January 28, at a temple in this village, nine Santhals underwent conversion to Hinduism, although the precise number is contested, with proponents of Hindutva asserting that it exceeds one hundred. Reports of this incident were disseminated through newspapers of various sizes, both large and small. Following this, the administration sought to downplay the situation, claiming that "nothing of the sort had actually occurred."

During the initial phase, we visited the location on February 22nd and 23rd for documentation purposes. Bhatina village is situated along the route connecting Rampurhat and Dumka. The Singha Bahini temple, established by the Viswa Hindu Parishad, is located at the entrance of the village. It was founded in 2009. Upon crossing the Vatina jungle, one can access Kharmadanga. A veil of fear covered the entire village. The police conducted a cursory patrol of the village once a day. After that they slipped into sleeping mode. In the rest of time motorcycle-borne youth conducted surveillance of the area. In the night they maintained strict vigil. The newly converted Hindus had been shifted to the undisclosed areas of neighbouring Jharkhand. Christians from neighbouring Kharmadanga, Vatina,  Nuripahari, Harinathpur  had  been brought in that ceremony of ‘Ghar Wapsi’. The Christian families remained tight lipped because of fear. In that all pervading fear we got acquainted with one person who did not belong to Christian community but protested against this conversion. Even he lodged an FIR in Rampurhat police station. As a consequence of that FIR the priest of the conversion ceremony Dhanapati Hansda, who was the local organizer , district coordinator of VHP Chukra Tudu, international president of the organisation got accused. On that 28th January Pravin Togaria gave inflammatory provocative speech in Rampurhat organized by Viswa Hindu Parishad.

The individual who protested was Ukil Mardi. He worked as a daily wage laborer. To sustain himself, he occasionally traveled to Burdwan. To make a living, he worked as a daily laborer at a crusher machine. Despite being a reserved and gentle person, he did not endorse the extravagant and ostentatious arrangements for religious conversion. Whole village was invited on that day. At first no one got an inkling of what was going to happen.  Santal Hindus did not cook on that day. Ukil’s family was also invited. They thought that it was just like the other religious festivals. Recently culture of worshipping Kali or Saraswati entered the village. They conjectured that this would also fall under the same category. When the reality became clear to them, everyone fell silent. With the influential figures of the village in attendance, how could anything be amiss? This was the prevailing thought among the villagers. It was evident from their expressions that Christians had been coerced into conversion. In the midst of the pervasive silence, Ukil Mardi stood out as the sole individual who vehemently opposed this conversion. despite his own Households displayed images of Goddess Kali, and married women adorned their foreheads with vermilion. He was a practicing ‘Hindu’. Women members of his family also wore ‘Shanka’ which was the symbols of married Hindu women in Bengal. Being asked he declared himself as Hindu. We asked why he protested despite being a Hindu. He unequivocally replied he could not support forceful proselytization.

Statement of an old man who wished to remain anonymous

The year was 2012. Victims belonging to Bodo tribe took shelter in the government relief camp situated In Commerce college of Kokrajhar, Assam. As we approached the elderly man, those responsible for the daily operations of the camp surrounded us. Initially, we were unaware of their intentions, but it soon became clear that they feared the old man might reveal information that could lead to unforeseen consequences. After spending hours in that relief camp, we got the opportunity to interact with him privately. The scar of visiting the Nowervita village yesterday was still fresh in us.  En route to Gonsaigunj the village was situated. The Muslim community was situated on the left side, while the Bodo community was on the right. Approximately 350 Muslim families lived there. Upon our arrival, we found that not a single family was living there. Just two days prior, three individuals had been murdered by Bodo attackers. They looted the possessions and set fire to the barns. The day before, there had been a significant rainfall. When we arrived, we observed tendrils of smoke continuing to rise. Charred remains of an Indian hog plum stood desolately. Half burnt Koran Sharif, Muksudul Momenin laid scattered on the courtyard. We carefully picked that. Across the courtyard was thatched hutments. Inside the room a framed photograph of newly married couple shook the core of our heart. Our whole existence ripped apart. Devastated we felt ourselves blood smeared in that hunting ground of machete wielding butchers. That village was only two kilometres from the Dotama Police station. We even went there. It was another story.

We disclosed everything to that elderly man. A subdued sound emerged from his throat, which could not be accurately described as crying. He remained quiet for several moments. Once he regained his composure, he explained that it was through the sincere assistance of certain Muslims that they had managed to arrive at this location. They also informed him that the 'Bhatia Muslims' from nearby villages would likely attack them as night fell. They are the newcomers; we call them 'Bhatiyas'. Those who arrived between 1950 and 1972 are known as 'Ujanis'. Many Ujanis live in our village. We have coexisted for decades without any trouble. The younger ones share a bond like that of uncles and nephews, while those of the same age are friends. It is the new arrivals—these Bhatiyas—who are stirring up trouble. There is rivalry among the major militant factions; they claim they will make Bodoland 'Muslim-free'. But what did those Ujanis do? Why should they leave? The truth is, it is the poor on both sides who are dying.

How did they rescue you? We inquired. He recounted that following the horrific event in Angtihara, the Muslim community went into a frenzy. (Angtihara is a village located in the Gosaingunj division, approximately 20 kilometers from Kokrajhar.) On July 6, 2012, Nurul Haque, a 36-year-old man, was brutally killed while seated at a tea shop. In response, Muslims initiated a road blockade using his corpse. This protest escalated into violence. He stated, "In this village, there are only a few Bodo families, including ours. The Ujanis are the majority. Rumors spread rapidly. There were war cries echoing throughout. Fanatics were clamoring for blood. A primary school teacher from the Muslim community, who wished to remain anonymous, informed me, 'Uncle, many Bhatias have gathered from neighboring villages, even from Dhubri. They plan to attack at night. We were left in the lurch. We fled leaving livestock, belongings in their custody. We are informed here that more than thousand Bhatias attacked that night. Ujanis fought valiantly and saved our cattle. Although they could not save everything, they successfully safeguarded stocks of paddy and many of our possessions.

He weeps and caresses me—just like the father I lost in the riots

Debashish Ghosh, the eldest son of the late Kartik Ghosh, is around 40 years old. According to information available so far, Kartik Ghosh is the only person to have died in the 2017 Basirhat communal clashes. Debashish told our fact-finding team that around 11 a.m. on the 5th (of July, 2017), a group of people arrived from the direction of Paikpara and began vandalizing Hindu-owned shops and homes. That same afternoon, my father—Sri Kartik Chandra Ghosh, aged sixty-five—was returning from Nopara. Near Paikpara, he was attacked by individuals from the Muslim community—all familiar faces. They struck him on the head three times. We are informed after 2 p.m. that my father was lying injured on the road; however, the situation made it impossible to go there at that time due to extreme tension. We somehow managed to arrange an ambulance to bring my father in. After we arrived at Basirhat Sub-divisional Hospital and he received initial treatment, the doctor advised us to take him to R.G. Kar Medical College Hospital in Kolkata, stating that his condition was critical and could not be treated there. We were devastated. We immediately made arrangements to transport him in the same ambulance. Just then, a request came for us to take along another injured person as well. That man’s name was Fazlur Sardar. I did not know him. He was an elderly man who had also been caught in the midst of the clash. I heard that a rubber bullet fired by the paramilitary forces in the Paikpara area had shattered his jaw. The poor man was writhing in agony, with no friends or relatives by his side. My brother and I agreed to take him along. We set off for Kolkata in the same ambulance, carrying two injured men—one on each side—while holding IV saline bottles in our hands. My father passed away on the morning of July 6th. Fortunately, Fazlur-chacha survived; he recovered and returned home. Yes, ever since that encounter, we have called him 'Chacha' (Uncle). About six months after the incident, we met once again with the family of Kartik Ghosh, who had died in the riots. We asked Debasish how he felt now. He said, "They killed my father—an innocent man who minded his own business and never got involved in conflicts. The killers still haven't been arrested. We feel pain, and even more anger. Yes, we feel anger towards Muslims, too. Many of my Muslim neighbours feel ashamed about this and hesitate to speak to us. The women come over; they have even wept with my mother. Perhaps things will gradually return to normal. But believe me, when I was rushing those two injured people to safety, nothing else crossed my minds. My only goal was to save them, two old men; no matter what."

We ask if he is still in touch with Chacha. Debasish replies, "Yes, Chacha visits. He strokes my head and body, and hugs me while weeping—just as if he were my own father who has passed away."

Imam Imdallua Rashidi, who wrote history with tears of love, not blood

He is now known to the public as the ‘Imam of Asansol’—a man who remained silent upon seeing the body of his son, who had been killed in communal clashes. Standing amidst rows of thousands of people for his son’s funeral prayer, he urged them to remain calm. He told them, "Once the prayers and the burial are over, return to your respective homes. If you hold even the slightest respect for me as your Imam, I request that you do not engage in any violence, in any revenge. Otherwise, I will leave Asansol forever."

Earlier, when his son was held captive in Ramkrishna Dangal—or when a Hindu youth was similarly detained in his own neighbourhood—he had urged the local youths to let the captive go, reminding them that he, too, was someone’s son. Even upon learning of his own son's death, he suppressed the news, fearing that the mob might kill the Hindu youth held in their custody. Imam Imdadullah Rashidi—a man whose resolve remained unshaken by the sight of his son’s corpse or the presence of a bloodthirsty, frenzied mob; a figure before whom one is compelled to bow in reverence.

We visited him many times. Those in our group were deeply moved—filled with a contemplative reverence—in his presence. Yet, he was always forthright and direct. He stated—bluntly, perhaps even harshly—that if the intention behind embracing him was merely to post about it on Facebook, then one should not offer that embrace. He insisted he had done nothing extraordinary; he had simply acted in a way that was natural to him—a way taught to him by Islam. "This is India; this is how we live—bound together in mutual embrace. Go to the neighbouring Hindu locality; a Hindu mother lost her life during the communal clashes. Go visit her sons. They, too, offered no provocation; they did not exploit their mother’s death for any agenda." Following his advice, we visited the home of the deceased, Pratima Raut, in Ramkrishna Dangal. Her son shared a message of communal harmony—a message that was subsequently spread far and wide.

Amidst the pitch-black darkness of communal conflict, these individuals shine as beacons of light. Despite leading humble lives, their hearts possess an unfathomable depth. They stand between the warring factions—travellers through the darkness, carrying the light.

[Acknowledgement: AAMRA Archive, An archival collection on Conflict history of the Subcontinent]