Farmers living along the unfenced stretches of the Indo-Bangladesh border in north Bengal are caught in a relentless struggle—between protecting their crops and navigating a security vacuum exacerbated by porous borders, delayed fencing projects, and mounting fears.
From Sukhdebpur to the Barind belt in Habibpur, Malda, and the tobacco fields of Cooch Behar to the tea gardens of Jalpaiguri, the story remains disturbingly similar: groups of miscreants from across the Bangladesh border brazenly loot standing and harvested crops, often slipping past the watchful eyes of the Border Security Force (BSF). These incursions, long known to locals but rarely addressed in national discourse, have intensified following recent political shifts in Bangladesh.
“I’ve lost almost an entire season’s crop,” said a farmer from Habibpur, still shaken after a group of Bangladeshi miscreants descended on his field and carted away paddy in broad daylight. “We have nowhere to go except to our local MLA.”
Desperate farmers in the region recently met Habibpur MLA Jewel Murmu, pleading for immediate intervention. Their demand: the construction of a proper border fence to safeguard farmlands and families. Murmu, while sympathetic, blamed the delay on the state government’s inability to complete land acquisition—a prerequisite for any major infrastructure project along the border.
But some villagers have taken matters into their own hands. In a bold act of defiance and desperation, residents of Sukhdebpur began erecting single-line fencing right on the zero line—with unofficial backing from local BSF units. Predictably, this triggered protests from Bangladesh, which objected to the breach of international norms, as original fencing is required to be set up at least 150 yards inside Indian territory.
Security loopholes abound, especially in riverine belts, allowing miscreants to cross under the cover of darkness or during lean BSF patrols. In many cases, these intrusions are not limited to crop theft. Smuggling of cattle and other contraband continues to plague the region, further eroding the sense of safety among residents.
Beyond the official fencing lie dozens of Indian farmlands—technically Indian soil but practically beyond protection. Farmers like Ukil Barman, who was recently abducted by miscreants while tilling his land beyond the fence, have now stopped visiting these areas out of sheer fear.
“I thought I would die,” said Barman, now back home after his release but still gripped by trauma. “I want the government to either reclaim that land and give us plots within the fenced area, or ensure full-time protection.”
Barman’s story echoes across the border belt—one of anxiety, fear, and abandonment. While farmers along the border zones of Punjab and Jammu receive considerable policy attention and strategic protection, their counterparts in North Bengal often feel left to fend for themselves.
In the wake of rising tensions between India and Bangladesh after the recent regime change in Dhaka, these local security concerns have taken on a more urgent tone. Farmers across Malda, North Dinajpur, Jalpaiguri, and Cooch Behar have started demanding comprehensive fencing, coordinated patrols, and compensation for the recurring losses.
“We are not just growing crops,” said a small tea grower near the border in Jalpaiguri. “We are growing them under constant threat, and that has become our new normal.”
Until proper fencing is constructed and cross-border coordination improves, the fertile lands of Bengal’s border districts will remain battlefields—not just of diplomacy, but of daily survival.