The narrow, broken road to Dilip Kumar Saha’s modest home in Anandapally, nestled within Kolkata’s unassuming Bansdroni neighbourhood, felt heavy with an unspoken grief. The air was thick, not just with the humidity of a rain soaked Kolkata, but with a palpable sense of unease and loss that clung to the walls of the small, single-story house. Dilip, a 60-year-old non-teaching staff member at a private school, was found dead on Sunday morning, August 3, 2025, his body hanging from the ceiling fan in his son’s room. There was a purported suicide note recovered where he reportedly blamed no one for his decision. Prima facie it is suspected to be a case of suicide.
His family insists it was no ordinary death, fear and despair, sparked by the looming threat of the National Register of Citizens (NRC) and the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, had consumed him. Dilip, who had migrated from Nawabganj, Bangladesh to Kolkata in 1972 as a child, carried the weight of a past that now seemed to haunt his present. Inside the house, morning greeted us. Aaroti Saha, 55, sat on the floor, her eyes red and swollen, and the faint smear of vermillion on her forehead a stark reminder of the life she had built with Dilip over their 30 years of marriage. This house, registered in Dilip’s name, was where she had walked in as a new bride; they had raised their only son, Dippayan, now 29. It was a place of modest joys - shared meals, laughter, and the quiet rhythm of a working class family’s life. But now, the walls seemed to close in, echoing Aaroti’s inconsolable sorrow. “I still can’t believe he is no more,” she said, her voice breaking as she clutched her granddaughter. “She is barely a year old and used to be the apple of her grandfather’s eyes,” she said in between sobs. “He had high sugar and had been a nerve patient, but ever since this news of SIR came from Bihar, he was very worried. He off late has started fearing that NRC will now happen in Bengal, and he will be sent to a detention camp. He kept saying, ‘If I go to a detention camp, who will take care of you?’ I told him not to worry, that he had all the documents to prove he is Indian now, but he knew what happened in Assam. He would go to school and hear rumours.”
The rumours Aaroti spoke of were not completely baseless. The NRC, first implemented in Assam in 2019, had left 1.9 million people stateless, many of them Bengali Hindus and Muslims who struggled to produce stringent documentation proving their citizenship. The process, required individuals to trace their lineage back to before March 25, 1971, a daunting task for those displaced during the Bangladesh Liberation War, like Dilip. The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), passed in December 2019 but implemented in 2024, promised citizenship to non-Muslim refugees from Bangladesh, Pakistan, and Afghanistan who entered India before 2014. However, its rollout came with a complex documentation process that many, including members of the Matua community - a significant Scheduled Caste group in Bengal with roots in Bangladesh, found exclusionary. The Matuas, numbering over 3 million in Bengal, had initially supported the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) for its CAA promise, but objections arose when the act’s implementation seemed to prioritise political narratives over practical relief. Many Matuas feared that the CAA’s linkage to the NRC could trap even documented citizens in bureaucratic limbo, especially if they lacked specific papers like birth certificates.
“This is so unfair,” Aaroti said, her voice rising with a mix of anger and despair. “Are documents more important than a human being? He had Aadhaar, a voter ID card, but he didn’t have a birth certificate. He was born in Bangladesh and came to India under tumultuous situations - how could he have a birth certificate? I was born here in Kolkata, and even I don’t have one. Will they now call me a Bangladeshi? This is all politics. Before elections, the BJP is doing this. How will I get my husband back?”. Many from the neighbourhood echoed similar sentiments. “I am born here in India and I don’t have a birth certificate anymore. My son had a birth certificate but that was washed away in floods. We rescued ourselves somehow in that devastating flooding. Will we save ourselves or birth certificates presuming someday our own government will doubt our citizenship”, asked Papiya Das, a resident from the same neighbourhood.
The Special Intensive Revision (SIR), a electoral roll revision exercise announced in 2025 and piloted in Bihar, heightened these fears. Framed by the Election Commission as a routine update, the TMC and local activists labeled it an “NRC in disguise.” Reports from Bihar suggested that over 60 lakh names could be struck off voter lists. This death of Dilip Kumar Saha comes amidst a massive showdown between BJP and Mamata Banerjee government with Bengali-speaking migrants particularly targeted in BJP ruled states like Haryana, Rajasthan, Maharashtra, Delhi, Assam and even Odisha. In Bengal, where the BJP has been vocal about extending the NRC, the SIR’s potential implementation has stoked panic.
Dippayan, Dilip’s son, returned from the Regent Park police station as we were about to leave, his face etched with exhaustion. He carried a small plastic folder, carefully unzipping it to reveal a stack of documents- Dilip’s Aadhaar card, voter ID, school employment records, a ration card and even the house documents. “Look at these,” he said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “My father had everything except a piece of paper from 60 years ago. He worked hard, paid taxes, voted in every election. He was Indian in every way. But these rumours, this fear of detention camps - they broke him”, he said. Dippayan recounted how Dilip had confined himself to the house in the days leading up to his death, glued to news channels, his anxiety deepening with every report about SIR and NRC. On Saturday night, after a quiet dinner, Dilip retired to his room, while Dippayan and his wife visited a relative. The next morning, Aaroti’s calls went unanswered. With the help of their niece, Pinky, and neighbours, they broke open the door to find Dilip’s lifeless body. His death certificate signed by the Indian authority, too, confirms he was an Indian.
