The Bengal(i) Dilemma: Between Hope and Despair
Political parties, of course, have their numerical calculations in place, making ground-level behavioural changes irrelevant. Even in the past, it rarely mattered. Vote-bank politics continues to dominate, leaving the bhadralok—Bengal’s genteel middle class—in a quiet, uneasy dilemma.

For someone who grew up in Kolkata and returns at every opportunity, my latest visit left me in despair. Once known as a proverbially safe city, Kolkata has long lost its lustre. Hooliganism and muscle power have taken deep root in neighbourhoods.
Women and men alike continue to fall victim to violence and brutality. These acts—often caught on camera—are widely shared on social media, but with little deterrent effect. With state elections less than a year away, violence will likely become a key political tool once again.
It wasn’t so long ago—just over a decade—that many of us cheered when a feisty opposition leader finally ended the Left’s stranglehold on West Bengal politics. Alas, the promise of a new Bengal lies shattered in the shadowy lanes of power, politics, and corruption.
Few Promises Delivered
In India’s federal system, dissatisfaction with state governments is widespread. It's understood that few promises will be delivered, and many will remain unfulfilled. But Kolkata—or Bengal more broadly—seems to have been especially shortchanged.
So many city bylanes are dug up for drainage work, posing health hazards during the monsoon downpour. Pavements across the city are encroached by squatters, leaving Kolkata looking shoddy and uncared for. The once-proud gloss of blue-painted buildings and decorative street lights can hardly compensate for the unruly traffic and a pervasive lack of civic sense. Walking anywhere through the muck is near impossible.
Yes, I know this is the state of play in many parts of India—but why should it be? What happened to the national Swachh Bharat (cleanliness) campaign? The jharoos (brooms) only seem to come out for political photo ops.
Erosion of a Syncretic Culture
The syncretic culture that once defined Bengali households has palpably eroded. Yes, Bengalis still visit the girja (church) on Borodin (Christmas), queue outside Nahoum’s in New Market, and relish biryani during Eid. But the social assimilation that was the norm during my childhood is now just a distant memory.
While a section of the urban elite still upholds secular cultural moorings, the perception that a certain segment of the minority population is being unduly favoured by the state government has deepened social and religious divides.
Governments should ideally create a supportive environment for all, including minorities. But when a sense of political indispensability is built around one group, it only compounds societal complexities. Demographic changes have led many—even the most rational—to view developments with growing skepticism.
Political parties, of course, have their numerical calculations in place, making ground-level behavioural changes irrelevant. Even in the past, it rarely mattered. Vote-bank politics continues to dominate, leaving the bhadralok—Bengal’s genteel middle class—in a quiet, uneasy dilemma.
Cycles, Schemes, and Cynicism
Welfare schemes like Lakshmir Bhandar and the distribution of cycles and homes have secured a loyal bloc of women voters. Violence isn’t new to rural women; many recall the insecurity and horror of earlier regimes when bodies were flung into rivers. They know politics doesn’t change—only the party does.
The recent rape case within a law college campus is a reflection of the deep political and social malaise that plagues West Bengal—and India more broadly.
A telling image was that of a college administrator walking away from a journalist's questions, instead referring them to the governing body. The inability to function autonomously and independently has become the new norm.
Seething Ranks of the Unemployed
The rent-seeking political system is now pervasive across India. But Bengal, particularly in the tertiary sector, suffers deeply. Without approval from the ruling establishment, jobs remain illusory. The victims of the state’s education scam are still waiting for justice.
After nearly 11 years, the West Bengal government is announcing new industrial initiatives to placate a restless unemployed population. According to Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, 70,000 direct and indirect jobs are expected to be created. In a positive sign, the Tata Group is reportedly considering reinvestment—eleven years after being forced out.
Historically, West Bengal has faced challenges in attracting investment due to land acquisition policies and infrastructure issues, which have limited manufacturing. With a dominant tertiary sector—comprising hospitality, healthcare, and education—contributing nearly 66% to the economy, and the primary sector (agriculture) slightly less than 20%, the state’s growth remains uneven.
Though Bengal ranks sixth in the national economy, its per capita income remains lower than several major Indian states. Kolkata was once a proud industrial hub; West Bengal, an economic powerhouse—now reduced to a skeleton of its past.
Marginalised in Foreign Policy
West Bengal has also been marginalised in India’s foreign policy matrix. While the Northeast—particularly Assam—features prominently in the Modi government’s Act East Policy as a bridge to Southeast Asia, Bengal, the original gateway for tea, trade, and migration, is now largely absent from the conversation.
Missing Bangladeshi Tourists
Over the past year, a sharp drop in Bangladeshi visitors—due to strained bilateral ties—has hit Kolkata’s economy hard. Hospitals no longer bustle with Bangladeshi medical tourists. Shopping malls and smaller hotels are feeling the pinch. Even activity at Kolkata airport has declined.
While cafés and coffee shops have added a new vibe to the city, poor parking and civic issues remain obstacles. These businesses offer some service-sector jobs, but are they sustainable?
A Complex Political Choice
Amid the current despondency, electoral choices have become increasingly complex for Bengalis. For long, the educated middle class resisted political options that promised economic growth but came with religious polarisation. Religion mattered, but was never a political tool.
Can Bengal rediscover its essence—and give many of us a reason to hope?
(The author teaches international politics at O. P. Jindal Global University, Haryana, India. Her main research focus is on India’s extended neighbourhood and issues of regionalism and cross-border relations. Views expressed are personal. She can be contacted at sreeradha@yahoo.com )
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