Since May, there has been an India-wide crackdown on Bengali-speaking people of a certain social section — the daily-wager and housework section — all in the name of weeding out “infiltrators and illegal immigrants”. Reports from Haryana, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Delhi, Madhya Pradesh continue to pour in… Two hundred migrant workers from various districts of West Bengal detained in Odisha. In Kondagaon, Chhattisgarh, nine Bengali-speaking masons, residents of Krishnanagar, picked up from a construction site, detained, harassed. Slums around Gurgaon have been nearly emptied of their hardworking populace these last few weeks, domestic help, odd-job men, sanitation workers, all Bengali-speaking people. Aamir Sheikh, a migrant labourer from Malda, was working in Rajasthan when he was thrown into jail without trial. Minarul Sheikh of Murshidabad was picked up by authorities in Mumbai. In a video posted on social media, Minarul claims that despite showing Indian identity proof, he was handed over to the BSF. They beat him up before pushing him into Bangladeshi territory.
A Delhi police station has called Bengali “Bangladeshi language”. Recently, a Bengali techie and his son were refused accommodation in Noida by a well-known hospitality chain. There is no language called Bengali, said the BJP’s social media propagandist Amit Malviya.
When respondents in Delhi NCR, Bhopal, Bangalore and Mumbai were asked by The Telegraph how people can tell apart a Bengali from a Bangladeshi, the answers were varied. “By dialect,” said one. “Indian Bengalis speak sweetly. Bangladeshi Bengali sounds aggressive, rough,” said the Bangalorean. Yet another person from Bangalore said, “By attire. Bangladeshis wear green dress, green talisman on a thread around the neck, the men sport beards. They have a working class kind look.” A group that runs a YouTube channel called Balapara Bangla TV sings out in corroboration: Lungi poira bidesh aaisi/Loke bole Bangladeshi/… Bharate zonmo amar/Bangladeshe na.” Meaning, they call us Bangladeshis just because we wear the lungi, but we were born in India.
An interviewee from Delhi said, “Here, any non Hindu Bengali-speaking lower-class person is assumed to be Bangladeshi.” A second interviewee from the capital, who has roots in Bengal, said, “It is not possible for a non Bengali speaking person to tell one apart from the other.” Manjira Saha, who has been studying life in the Indo-Bangladesh border for nearly two decades and has many publications on the subject, agrees with the above comment. She speaks of identifiers such as a certain taan or accent, even usage. Based on years of field work and travelling in the Gede local train, Saha has learnt to tell apart the Bangladeshi from their Bengali counterparts from the way they dress, by physiognomy too. She adds, “But, of course, in border areas like Ghojadanga, where there is a lot of mingling, even these identifiers might fail.” But that’s another story.
At hand is another situation. Citizens of India being persecuted on the basis of their mother tongue. A language which, writes Suniti Kumar Chatterji in his 1926 book The Origin and Development of the Bengali Language, “is a member of the Indic group of the Indo-Iranian or Aryan branch of the Indo-European family of languages”. One that has been, according to him, in existence as an independent and characterised language or, rather, as a distinct dialect group, for nearly 10 centuries.
Two decades after the publication of The Origin, Niharranjan Ray’s History of the Bengali People was published. At the very outset, Ray let it be known that his was not going to be a top-down approach to history, not the story of kings and empire building alone, but one aligned to the “philosophy of cohesion”. He wrote: “In peasants’ huts, on river landings, at rice harvests, in the shade of the forests, in the hearts of the cities… I saw this land and its people as one… My Bengal and its people are not to be found in the pages of ancient manuscripts; rather they are inscribed on my heart.”
As the land and its people, so the people and their language are inseparable. And this tug of the tongue is equal for peasant and migrant labourer, for techie and schoolteacher, and also crucial to identity. So, there are Bengalis and there are Bengalis. The Telegraph asked people from all over, across social and economic orbits, caste, gender, faith and training, what it means to be a Bengali.
Amartya Sen, Nobel laureate and economist
I am naturally upset to hear that there have been cases of severe discrimination against workers from Bengal who go to other parts of India in search of work. This is a terrible thing to happen and it would be similarly bad if it happened against Tamils, Punjabis, Malayalis or others. We have to bear in mind that India is one country and people should be able to go from one part to another without having the fear of being badly treated. I have many identities of which being a Bengali is certainly one, being an Indian is certainly another, being a human being is also a part of my identity, and I do not want to enter into a competition between different identities. But am I happy being a Bengali? The answer is yes. As are Tamils, Maharashtrians, Punjabis and others. We all make up the totality of the Indian identities.
Adrija Dasgupta, theatre professional
To me, being a Bengali means the courage we inherited from our forefathers in their fight against exploitation. A centuries-old language, a rich literary tradition and the pain of the 1947 Partition.
Nandini Deb Bou Rani, Sovabazar Rajbari
The language I speak, the food I eat, the rituals and festivals I celebrate, and the way I live — all of these make me Bengali. I went to London when my younger daughter was a student there. I did not change anything about my appearance while I was there. I walked around the city in my sari and my husband wore a dhoti.
Tehzeeb Ekbal, student
Growing up, I was always asked, “Are you a Bengali or a Muslim?” I have always said, “I am both.” I call water paani and my father Abbu, yet I am as much a Bengali as anyone who worships Ma Durga or fights for their language.
Amitav Ghosh, writer
Although I write in English, Bangla has been essential to my work in more ways than I can count, so, like Bengalis everywhere, I was truly horrified to hear that the Delhi Police had referred to something called the “Bangladeshi language”. How is it possible that they are unaware that Bangla is spoken in West Bengal and Tripura, as well as Bangladesh, and that it is a powerful element of the identity of almost 100 million Indians? Not only that, Bengali also happens to be the second most spoken language in India, and the sixth most widely spoken language in the world. What is particularly troubling about the hostility and disrespect that is increasingly being shown, in some parts of India, towards Bangla, and Bengalis of all religions, is that these attitudes seem to have official approval.
Kaushik Sen, actor, director, playwright
It’s difficult for me to identify myself only as a Bengali in a country like India, especially in the present context. Because whatever is happening in the country, is affecting me directly or indirectly, so I can’t hide or expose myself behind any of these identities.
Kaushik Basu, economist
For me, being a Bengali is all about cultural identity — the art, the music and the literature of the region, cutting across all religions. It is about Rabindranath; it is about Nazrul. This secular heritage of Bengal is something special.
Aritra Chatterjee, banker
Having lived away from Bengal for over two decades, Bengali is the anchor for my identity. As I move through the cultures I encounter, I derive strength from this language that is mine. It equips me with tools to express my emotions, seek comfort in family, friends and community. Bengali is my comfort wherever I go — be it the spoken language, literature or performative culture.
Julekha Sultana, writer
Being Bengali is not only about speaking Bangla, but about carrying a sensibility that has been shaped by history, culture and shared memory. It is in the rhythm of Rabindrasangeet on a quiet evening, the smell of ilish maachh in mustard oil, and the arguments over politics and poetry that can go on for hours. It is in Durga Puja pandals glowing with light.
Lopamudra Mitra, singer
For the last 32 years, I have been singing in Bengali. It is this language that has given me my identity. Yes, I am an Indian, but I am essentially a Bengali — maachhe-bhaate Bangali. I have read Bengali literature, Rabindranath, Jibanananda. Ramakrishna Paramahamsa has conveyed his preachings to us in Bengali. I have also understood Swami Vivekananda in this language.
Chaitali Dasgupta, retired Doordarshan presenter
Bengali is my matribhasha. At home, my parents encouraged a close engagement with Bengali language, literature and culture. This Bengaliness imbued my work identity at Doordarshan. To quote Pratulda: Bangla amar dripto slogan/Khipto teer dhonuk... Bengali is my slogan impassioned/Bow and arrow tense. I protest in this language. I also express my love in this language.
Kausik Sengupta, retired software architect
To me, being a Bengali isn’t just about being born to Bengali parents and speaking the language. It’s a privilege to be able to read and understand the language of Rabindranath, Bankimchandra, Bibhutibhushan and Jibanananda. I am proud to have grown up in an atmosphere of superior culture, literature, music, arts and science.
Mehtab Hossain, football player and coach
The Bengali mind, education and culture are different. It is our education, the respect we pay to both the old and the young, the ability to live with others in peace and harmony... I am a follower of Swamiji and I live by his teachings of simple living and high thinking.
Ratikanta Pramanik, driver
I was born a Bengali. I grew up in a place where everyone spoke Bengali. I have expressed my joy and grief in Bangla. I have prayed in Bengali. I do not know any other language. Now that I have to travel to other states, I communicate with people in Hindi. I am learning Hindi. But I have seen how people look down upon us. They keep telling us that there is nothing in Bengal... no job, no development.
Sahana Bajpaie, Bengali music practitioner
My relationship with Bengali is personal and performative. My academic journey has been inseparable from this heritage. My PhD was on Rabindrasangeet. I was raised in Santiniketan, where literature, music and art are a way of life. This upbringing instilled in me the sensibility that being Bengali is not a matter of origin or surname, but of immersion in its cultural and intellectual traditions.
Parvathy Baul, Baul sadhika
To be Bengali means to be anchored in a spiritual awareness. This land is imbued with such robust spiritual currents. It has been home to spiritual giants like Sri Ramakrishna, Ma Sarada, Swami Vivekananda, Sri Aurobindo, Sri Yogananda Paramahansa.
Lalit Gomes, musician
I was born in a Christian family in the Taltala area of central Calcutta. But we wore our Bengali identity with pride as we grew up singing Christmas carols in Bengali. The women in our family wear saris and sindoor. Many elderly men still prefer the dhuti-panjabi. As a musician, I love playing the quintessential Bhatiyali, Bhawaiya and Baul tunes on the sitar.
Tapan Majumder, retired geologist
Being Bengali meant, at least in our times, to have an advantage in terms of exposure — be it to the sciences, the arts and aesthetics... A lot of luminaries, S.N. Bose, Jagadish Bose, belonged to the community, a lot of great music and great literature was created from within the community. So, yes, being an insider granted me access to a very rich universe.
Rupa Roy, house help
I am a Bengali because that is my language.
Chameli Majumdar, retired judge
I was born in North Bengal, I did my higher studies in Calcutta. Most of my legal career was spent here. Living in West Bengal, one is not that acutely aware of one’s Bengali identity at all times. But when I was doing my judgeship in Ahmedabad and Mumbai, I realised that I have a Bengali core. And yes, the language is one of the main things that has shaped the core.
Rafiqul Alam Sahana, organic farmer
A lot of people ask me whether I am Bengali. Being Muslim does not disqualify me from being Bengali.
Barry O’Brien, educationist and author
I did a DNA test. It said my ancestors were more European than Bengali. But if AI could one day do a DNA test of the soul, my Bengaliness would hit it out of the park — Edener bairey. Like all Bangalis, I have never lost a debate at a rawker adda in Jamir Lane, the Bangali para I spent most of my life in; never not licked my fingers after a kosha mangsho meal; never not had Bangla roll off my tongue. Even in the West Bengal Legislative Assembly, where my speeches were in English, the animated anecdote was always in Bangla. A former finance minister once told me that my initials BOB stand for Bangali O’Brien.
Reporting by Debabratee Dhar, Moumita Chaudhuri, Paromita Kar, Paromita Sen, Prasun Chaudhuri; Page design by Manoj Roy