Kolkata has never been a tranquil city. The familiar sight of demonstrations, marches to the Brigade Parade Ground, bandhs, effigy burnings have long been woven into the city’s identity. Yet the explosion of anger that has erupted in Kolkata and its suburbs, towns, and villages following the brutal rape and murder at R.G. Kar Medical College and Hospital last month is something even the city’s oldest residents admit they have never witnessed before.
The Trinamool Congress’s recent landslide success in the Lok Sabha election 2024 is fresh in the party’s mind, probably making it all the more difficult for its leaders to grasp the depth and extent of this public outrage now.
What distinguishes the nature of this fury? When hundreds of thousands are collectively demanding “justice”, is the term limited to the courts’ verdict on the case, or does it have a deeper meaning? Despite the continued instances of rape and murder across the state, why did this particular incident become the focal point for civil society?
Former Prasar Bharati CEO and the TMC’s Rajya Sabha MP Jawhar Sircar, who has observed the workings of both the central and state governments for decades, noted in his letter to chief minister Mamata Banerjee with his intention to resign:
“In all years of my service, I have never witnessed such anger and utter distrust towards government.”
The gravity of his words must be understood.
In 2011, Mamata Banerjee’s TMC came to power in West Bengal on the slogan, “Bodla noy bodol chai (change, not revenge).” The uprising did not happen overnight. Years of public frustration with Left mis-governance had built up over time. It was the wave of discontent that Banerjee harnessed. With her quick empathetic responses to public fury, she became the sole alternative in the eyes of people across all social strata.
In 2000, the TMC took control of the Kolkata Municipal Corporation, signalling the city’s and civil society’s endorsement of the party. Again, in 2006, after the anti-land acquisition movement in Singur, Banerjee’s influence grew significantly among the farmer community. That same year, on the morning of December 18, the half-charred body of a young woman – Tapasi Malik – was discovered in a large pit in the project area of Tata’s factory in Bajemelia, Singur. Smoke was still rising from her corpse when villagers found her. The entire country recoiled in horror. Malik’s death added a new dimension to the movement. Public trust surged towards Banerjee’s leadership.
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Eventually, the Tata group was forced to exit Singur, and the political landscape of West Bengal was transformed. In the 2009 parliamentary elections, the Left Front suffered a massive setback, leading to its downfall in the 2011 state elections. The brutality that Malik was subjected to exposed the real face of toxic village politics. Eighteen years later, the doctor of R.G. Kar hospital was raped and murdered inside a government hospital, in her own familiar workspace. While taking a brief rest after a 36-hour shift trying to save lives, she lost her own.
In this situation, all eyes were on Mamata Banerjee, waiting for her response. Not only has she disappointed at every turn, she has, a day ago, urged protesters to return to the Durga Puja and its festivities.
Let us travel 31 years ago, to a day in July, 1993. That year, a girl with hearing and speech impairments was raped, and her mother, Felani Basak, took her to Banerjee, seeking justice. Soon after, on July 21, Banerjee led a march to the state secretariat, the Writers’ Building. The police responded violently, killing many of the then Youth Congress supporters. Basak, however, never received justice for her daughter’s case. The trial was abandoned following the girl’s death from snakebite. But from that day forward, Mamata Banerjee, the opposition leader, became a symbol of the struggle justice in the eyes of the people.
That same Banerjee, however, just months into her rule, tried to dismiss the Park Street gang-rape case as a “fabricated incident.” This time, however, she showed restraint, making no insensitive remarks in the immediate aftermath of the R.G. Kar case. But the controversy arose when she publicly announced her decision to transfer Sandip Ghosh elsewhere (National Medical College). By then, media and medical students had already levelled multiple accusations against Ghosh.
The burning question emerged: why did Mamata Banerjee, the health minister, take no action against Ghosh? Why had the Kolkata police not interrogated him at least once? These questions struck at the heart of public sentiment, sparking a conflagration of rage.
That West Bengal’s education system is mired in corruption is undeniable even to the staunchest TMC supporter. But the rot in the health system had not been so obvious to many until now. Journalistic investigation into outraged junior doctors’ allegations uncovered an almost organised crime network, involving the notorious “North Bengal lobby,” known for its rampant corruption –bribery for exam questions, favouritism in student placements, controlling doctors’ transfers, etc.
Public anger continued to rise, and as people shouted for “justice,” they were no longer talking particularly about women’s safety. They were calling for an end to a vast criminal system.
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People have no choice but to target Banerjee. Whether it’s police inaction or the deplorable state of the health system, Banerjee is at the centre of every question as she runs both departments. The Sarada scam, the Narada sting operation, the Primary Teachers’ Eligibility Test corruption, the ration scam – TMC leaders being repeatedly jailed over all this and more – had always simmered. Now, citizens have taken to the streets.
Banerjee, once an opposition leader, is now the icon of establishment, and the people are left wondering: who is the alternative? For the first time, the people themselves have had to become the alternative, to fight their own battle.
In the last general election, the BJP garnered 38.73% of the vote in West Bengal, yet its dharna at the Metro Channel in Dharmatala, led by its most popular leaders, could not bring more than 200 people together. During the Singur and Nandigram protests, Banerjee’s dharnas drew literally millions. Why did people not place their trust in the BJP? Civil society recalls the injustice of Hathras, Unnao, and Manipur, and the communal rhetoric of Bengal’s BJP leaders has made it clear that their leadership will not do.
In the past, for decades, professional political protesters led rallies in Bengal. This time, the marchers are ordinary people with no prior experience in activism – people unknown to the masses. They are connecting via social media. Their tactics – night vigils, putting off lights, human chains, and spontaneous graffiti on the streets – are not familiar to the police. Besides, the unyielding resistance of R.G. Kar’s junior doctors has become a catalyst for the movement. After a night protest, they stood steadfast, asking for the resignation of the Police Commissioner in a face-to-face meeting.
It’s hard for any leader, including Mamata Banerjee, to gauge the scale of this citizen-driven spontaneity.
We can remember how the Shaheen Bagh protests and the farmers’ movements had unsettled the BJP-led union government. Having toppled a party that ruled for 34 years, Banerjee herself had not faced any significantly invincible opponents. Even after a decade of BJP dominance across India, she has retained her hold over Bengal. But the CPI(M) and BJP are easy foes for her. She knows the language to counter both. But there is no short-cut remedy to deal with public anger.
Arka Deb is editor-in-chief of Inscript.me. He has been a senior journalist at Network18 and Anandabazar Patrika.
