Along the mud-caked lane leading to the Hakimpur border outpost — the same route that carried refugees in 1947 and again in 1971 — a familiar movement has returned to this frontier village in Bengal’s North 24 Parganas district. Only this time, the flow has reversed.
For decades, Hakimpur became a sanctuary for people escaping violence across the border. Now, elders say they are witnessing something unprecedented: illegal Bangladeshi migrants walking back towards the very gate through which thousands once entered India.
The trigger, residents and security officials agree, is the ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls across West Bengal. As enumerators begin door-to-door checks, those who have lived for years on forged papers, borrowed identities or with no documents at all have decided not to wait. Instead, many are heading home quietly before verification teams arrive.
“I have never seen so many illegal Bangladeshis waiting to return,” said 79-year-old Haripada Mondal, who worked in relief kitchens during the 1971 Liberation War. “They know they have no documents, so they are going back on their own.”
Hakimpur, home to over 10,000 people as per the 2011 Census, sits amid villages such as Dattapara, Daspara, Balki, Gunrajpur and Bithari — localities steeped in memories of Partition displacement and the exodus of 1971.
The lane leading to the border, a muddy track still etched with the past, once carried those fleeing Operation Searchlight, the brutal crackdown by the Pakistani army in East Pakistan.
“Every courtyard was a camp, every home a shelter,” recalled 84-year-old Animesh Majumdar. “We were poor, but we shared whatever we had. That was our duty.”
On 22 November, Majumdar stood under the same banyan tree where villagers once cooked rice for war refugees. Now it shelters migrants preparing to return, their belongings stuffed into polythene bags tied to bamboo poles. “History is coming full circle,” he said. “Only the direction has changed.”
The village’s instinctive response remains unchanged as well. With no NGOs or official orders, residents line up with utensils and thermos flasks, offering food as they did half a century ago.
“You feed anyone who is needy on this road — that is our rule,” said 50-year-old shopkeeper Mantu Mondal. “In 1971, people were entering. Today, people are leaving. But feeding them remains constant.”
Young men distribute puffed rice and biscuits; elders spoon lentils into steel bowls. Cups of tea move along the line of seated migrants.
“We grew up hearing stories of how our elders ran camps in 1971,” said Sujit, 22, handing out water packets. “Now we are seeing something similar. These people are not fleeing war, but they cannot show documents.”
Migrants waiting to cross back say the decision is pragmatic. “I worked in a brick kiln in Bongaon on a borrowed ID,” said Shahidul, 32. “I cannot show any legal papers. Better to return before the checks begin.”
Security personnel confirm the trend. “Since the second week of November, reverse crossings have increased sharply,” a BSF officer said. “Most admit they entered illegally years ago for work. They all cite the SIR. This is voluntary, not forced.”
Hakimpur’s elders say they are struggling to digest the reversal. “All my life I have seen only inflow, from 1947 to 1971 and even later,” said 70-year-old Ajay Pal. “This is the first time I am watching people queue up to go back. It is unsettling.”
Many migrants returning are daily wage labourers from Bangladesh’s Khulna, Satkhira, Bagerhat and Jessore districts. A local panchayat member monitoring the queues said they simply feared verification. “They have no voter card or Aadhaar. SIR is strict. So they are going back voluntarily. We are only helping with food.”
Villager Mithun Mondal described the moment as “history turning full circle”. For seventy years the border belt saw people run into India, he said. “Now those who arrived illegally in recent decades are walking home. It is a unique moment.”
As dusk settles on Hakimpur, the narrow road once associated with inflow now carries people in the opposite direction. “This road brought thousands in,” Ajay Pal murmured, watching silhouettes disappear into fading light. “Today it is sending them back.”
Here along this frontier — a witness to Partition, war and decades of migration — history moves again. Only this time, it moves outward.