‘Emotional & Unforgettable’: NCW Chief Recounts Visit To Violence-Hit Murshidabad | Opinion
The National Commission for Women will do everything in its power to demand accountability, ensure justice, and help restore dignity to these women
There are visits that leave you shaken. And then there are those that change you forever.
My recent visit to the violence-hit areas of Murshidabad and the relief camp in Malda, West Bengal, was not just a fact-finding mission. It was a human awakening – raw, emotional, and unforgettable.
Recommended Stories
I walked into a school-turned-relief camp in Malda, now a temporary home for hundreds who fled Murshidabad to escape religious violence. It was supposed to be a place of learning; today, it echoes with cries of fear and loss. Women ran to me – many sobbing, many silent with pain too deep for words.
One young mother approached me, her newborn cradled in her arms. As she gently handed me the baby, she said, “I had decorated my house to welcome this child into the world. But now, my baby’s first breath is in a relief camp. My house was burned down before he could even see it."
I held the infant, and I held back tears. How do you respond to such grief?
The camp lacked basic dignity. Toilets were few and filthy. There was no proper access to menstrual hygiene, no privacy for young girls, and food – what little there was – was neither sufficient nor safe. Elderly women complained of no access to medicine. Mothers looked helpless, watching their children survive rather than live. And they all asked the same question: Why us? What was our fault?
The pain did not end in the camp.
In Murshidabad, I saw what remained of once-thriving homes. Walls blackened by fire, temples desecrated, and rooms once filled with laughter now stood empty, echoing only the violence that silenced them.
In every street I walked, women stopped me. Not one. Not two. But dozens. Each with a story – of horror, of loss, of shame. One said rioters dragged her from her house and told her to consider them her new husbands. Another said they demanded her daughter be handed over for their “pleasure".
A young couple’s home, newly built after their wedding, was reduced to ash.
In Jafrabad, a woman clutched my hands as she led me into what used to be her home. Her husband and son – Hargovind Das and Chandan Das – were killed by the mob. Her eyes were dry. Her grief had passed tears.
What broke me most was the overwhelming lack of faith in the system. Everywhere I went, people carried placards: ‘We want BSF protection. We don’t trust the state police’.
They told me the police came late – or didn’t come at all. Some even accused them of siding with the rioters. These are not empty allegations. These are cries of those who have lost not just family and property – but their trust in the state.
And yet, despite it all, these women still gathered, still hoped that someone would listen. And I did.
What pained us further was witnessing the politicisation of this tragedy. Instead of questioning the rioters, some political voices chose to question us. Instead of asking the victims how they could be helped, they were more concerned with political narratives.
But let me be clear – this is not a political matter. It is a human tragedy, a women’s crisis, a national concern. The right to live without fear, to worship without threat, to protect one’s home and family – these are the cornerstones of any democracy. In Murshidabad, these very principles lie in ruins. Plenty of issues lend themselves to politics if one so desires – but not this. This is about security, the right to feel safe, about humanity and dignity. Above all, it’s about ensuring that every woman can walk through this world without fear, with her head held high.
I was there as a woman. And what I witnessed broke something inside me. Their dreams were reduced to rubble, their sense of safety destroyed, their lives uprooted overnight. The question that haunts me is – who will take responsibility?
I return from West Bengal with a heavy heart but a clear resolve. The National Commission for Women will do everything in its power to demand accountability, ensure justice, and help restore dignity to these women. They are not statistics. They are our sisters. Our mothers. Our children.
And they will not be forgotten.
Vijaya Rahatkar is the chairperson of National Commission for Women (NCW). The views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect News18’s views.
- Location :
- First Published: