Pingla (West Bengal): Just weeks ago, they were celebrated as heroes by West Bengal’s ruling party after surviving brutal torture in Gujarat on suspicion of being “Bangladeshi”. They were paraded at political receptions, where local leaders proudly posed with them for photographs.

Now, as the initial fanfare fades, the reality is stark. These migrant workers, brought back to the state with much publicity, are once again struggling to feed their families, while also enduring the sting of public ridicule.

The Wire spoke to several of these workers who recounted how they returned home after facing harassment and beatings from security forces, only to find themselves preparing to leave again in search of work. Their stories expose a deepening crisis for West Bengal’s massive migrant workforce who are forced to seek work in other states due to a lack of local opportunities and abysmal wage rates, only to face harassment, discrimination and a stark disconnect between lofty political promises and the harshness of lived reality.

Sandip Maji lives in a broken hut in Keleyara, a small village located in the Pingla subdivision of Paschim Medinipur district. Despite registering for his secondary school exams, the 19 year old had to drop out due to his family’s financial struggles. The lack of educational opportunities is a shared hardship in his community. His neighbour, Buddhadev Barik, also his age, had to stop his education after the fourth grade for similar reasons, while another, Ganesh Maji, only completed schooling up to the seventh grade.

They left for Gujarat in late July. A local working with a labour contractor arranged jobs for them at a conveyor belt factory in Surat for a daily wage of Rs 450. On July 27, shortly after arriving, a group of plainclothes men attacked them.

“They pounced on us, hitting us with their fists, kicking us, using sticks,” Sandip told The Wire. “We knew Hindi but couldn’t understand the Gujarati language. After beating us for several hours, they took us to a police station.”

All three showed their voter IDs and Aadhaar cards, but the police allegedly threw them away.

“A police officer told us that we are Bangladeshis, they will send us to our address in Bangladesh. They said all identity cards issued in West Bengal are fake. Our names and religions are fake!” recounted Buddhadev, who was allegedly beaten at the police station.

The men were told to “Go back to your own country if you want to save your lives”. Terrified, their families pooled money to bring them home, along with 13 other men from their villages. Upon their return, the local Trinamool Congress regional president gave each of them a Rs 500 note and 10 kilograms of rice in a ceremony attended by the local press.

But that “reception” soon became a source of mockery. “At a local shop, they called me a Bangladeshi,” said Buddhadev, breaking down. “My daughter goes for tuition there. I haven’t been able to pay her fees for two months, and now I have to listen to such taunts.”

“Now what do we do? We don’t even know how to farm to work as daily labourers,” said Sandip.

Buddhadev's aunt, Sandhya Barik, expressed both relief and resolve. “The biggest thing is that the boys are back alive. I’ll never send my son to work in Gujarat, even if they call him again.” She added, “Why should our boys be beaten and called ‘Bangladeshis’ and other terrible things? What was their crime?”

The stories of Sandip and his friends are not isolated incidents. Labour supplier Arup Jana, who returned from Gujarat, said, “The situation is becoming terrible. Bengali-speaking workers are being attacked in Gujarat, Rajasthan, Odisha, Delhi and Mumbai in various ways.”

At the heart of this migration lies the sharp wage disparity. According to a recent Reserve Bank of India report, rural wages in West Bengal for both agricultural and non-agricultural work are far below the national average. While a worker in Bengal might earn Rs 150-200 a day, the same work in Kerala can fetch Rs 500–900.

The state government has responded to the crisis by announcing the 'Shramshree' scheme for migrant families returning to the state, particularly those who have been subject to detention or deportation from other states. Under this scheme, returning migrant families would receive Rs 5,000 per month for one year, along with the provision of jobs under the 'Karmasree' project and inclusion in other state-run schemes.

However, skepticism runs deep. Buddhadev said, “The government says they will give us Rs 5,000, but I don’t know when or how we will get it. More than an allowance, we need work.”

Sandip added, “We don’t want an allowance; we want the government to give us permanent jobs.”

“It might provide temporary relief, but it is not a viable option for a migrant worker who can earn between Rs 30,000 and Rs 40,000 a month in another state,” said Arnab Pal of the Parijayi Shramik Oikya Mancha (Migrant Workers Unity Forum). “The government should conduct a swift survey to gather precise data on the current number of migrant workers, their occupations, and their earnings in other states. Without specific information, how can a solution be found?”

The issue goes beyond physical attacks and low wages. It points to a broader crisis of broken promises and abandoned projects within the state. Failed projects like the Daspur artisan hub illustrate a pattern of initiatives that never translate into real livelihoods. The building, inaugurated amid much fanfare, has had few takers. Such missteps have deepened the sense of despair and leaves migration as the only viable survival strategy.

While out-migration is a symptom of economic distress, it has also become a critical survival strategy. Remittances sent home by migrants act as a vital lifeline for their families, reducing poverty and enabling investments in human capital such as health and education.

Ganesh Maji’s house is also on the verge of collapsing in the monsoon. He has been the sole earning member of the family. They have been applying for a house under the government's Awas Yojna for years to no avail. “You see the condition of our house,” he said. “The leaders say it’s going to happen, but nothing ever does!”

Across the village, the pattern is clear. Only 14 young men remain while the rest have migrated. Some who stayed own farmland, others run small shops or drive e-rickshaws. Paddy planting is left to the elderly.

“In every household, one or two workers are outside. There is no work here, and even if there is, the wages are low, and there is a lot of politicking,” said Sandhya Barik. “To earn extra income and learn new skills for the future, every family sends their young men out to work.”

While Sandip has managed to get a job in Kharagpur, around 40 km from Pingla, others are not so fortunate. One by one, they are leaving the state again for better prospects. The state government’s response, while politically motivated, has yet to address the fundamental economic drivers of this trend.

“Many are skilled labourers who earn significantly higher wages in other states than they do here. They can afford a better standard of living and can pay for their children’s education, but they cannot find jobs with a comparable wage to maintain that lifestyle back home. This forces them to migrate again, despite the risk of further attacks,” summed up Pal.

For the men once paraded as heroes, their return has only deepened the contradiction between political spectacle and the unforgiving realities of survival.

Translated from the Bengali original by Aparna Bhattacharya.

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