Something’s been brewing quietly in Bengal for some time, and now it’s all out in the open. Last week, small towns like Dhuliyan, Samserganj, and Suti in Murshidabad saw their streets erupt in violence. And the reason? A new law the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025. It was meant to fix how Waqf properties are handled land and assets that are supposed to serve Muslim charitable needs. But instead of bringing clarity, it stirred up confusion, anger, and full-blown chaos.
Now people are asking the obvious: how did a law meant for reform turn into such a mess? Why Bengal? And what does it reveal about the deep cracks political and communal running through the state?
When a Reform Becomes a Spark
The Waqf (Amendment) Act officially came into effect on April 8, 2025. According to the Centre, its goal was clear—more transparency, digitized records, fewer irregularities, and stronger state boards to manage Waqf properties. But in reality, things didn’t go as smoothly, especially in regions where a large number of people depend on these properties for livelihood or religious purposes.
Take Murshidabad, for instance—over 66% of the population here is Muslim. So when the amendments were announced, people didn’t just see a law—they saw a potential threat. Rumours spread like wildfire—some claimed the government would take over mosque land, others said entire livelihoods were at stake. And with social media acting like petrol on fire, fear turned into fury. By April 4, small protests began after Friday prayers. Within a few days, those protests grew, fueled by hashtags like #RejectWaqfBill and amplified by local leaders and influencers.
Was the government unprepared for such a backlash? Possibly. But given the political climate, especially in a state run by Mamata Banerjee who’s known to lock horns with the Centre, it’s surprising they didn’t anticipate this kind of eruption.
Murshidabad Boils Over
If you’ve ever walked through the tight lanes of Dhuliyan, you’d remember the lively sounds of local markets. But from April 8 to 12, all that was replaced by violence and destruction. Protesters didn’t just take to the streets—they blocked highways, squatted on railway tracks, and clashed with the police. Petrol bombs were hurled. Vehicles were set on fire. Even a police station in Suti was attacked.
And then came the human cost. On April 12, in Jafrabad, two men—Haragobindo Das and his son Chandan—were brutally killed by an angry mob. In Suti, a teenager, 17-year-old Ezaz Ahmed Sheikh, was caught in the crossfire and shot dead. Till now, it’s unclear who fired the bullet—police or paramilitary. But that hardly matters to his grieving family. Over 150 people have been arrested so far, and raids are still going on in districts like Malda and Hooghly. Among the injured are at least 18 police officers.
It’s heartbreaking to imagine what families like Ezaz’s are going through. A young boy, possibly out protesting for what he believed in, is now gone. And the larger question remains—how did a legal amendment meant for better governance turn into a blood-stained battle?
Mamata’s Balancing Act
In moments like this, political leadership is tested. And Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee didn’t waste any time making her stand clear. On April 12, she declared, “The Waqf Act will not be implemented in Bengal.” That one line set off a storm.
To her supporters, she stood up for the people, especially minorities. To her critics, she was playing vote-bank politics with elections around the corner. BJP leaders slammed her—Suvendu Adhikari went as far as calling West Bengal “West Bangladesh,” while others demanded President’s Rule.
But here’s the irony. The Act wasn’t hers to begin with—it came from the Centre. Yet, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If she enforced the law, she’d alienate large sections of the Muslim community. If she resisted, she’d be blamed for letting law and order fall apart.
As things worsened, the Calcutta High Court had to step in on April 12. It ordered deployment of paramilitary forces—about 300 BSF troops and additional companies—to bring things under control. The internet was suspended in Jangipur, but online tensions continued. As of April 13, things had calmed somewhat, with police saying they’d restored order. Still, prohibitory orders remain in place and public trust has taken a big hit.
Could Mamata have acted earlier to prevent all this? Maybe. But hindsight is always clearer than foresight.
Layers Beneath the Surface
To truly understand what’s happening, we need to look deeper. West Bengal isn’t new to communal tension. Murshidabad, with its rich Muslim heritage, is also a district struggling with poverty and underdevelopment. Land disputes here are sensitive, especially involving religious institutions. So any sudden change in the status quo—like the 2025 Waqf amendments—naturally feels like an attack on identity.
And let’s not forget what else is brewing in Bengal. The massive education scam, where nearly 25,000 school jobs were scrapped by a Supreme Court ruling, has already left the youth frustrated and unemployed. That kind of anger needs only a small trigger to boil over.
The national debate on Waqf isn’t new either. Back in 2006, the Sachar Committee had already pointed out major irregularities. But meaningful reforms were always delayed. The 2025 Act finally tried to fix that, backed by 211 MPs. But with 148 MPs opposing it, including voices from Bengal’s religious circles, it’s clear not everyone is convinced.
Online, the battle is just as sharp. While some praise Mamata for protecting minority rights, others have been quick to throw around terms like “gazwa-e-hind,” which only deepen divides. The Supreme Court is set to hear the matter on April 16, and that decision might decide where this story heads next.
What Lies Ahead for Bengal?
Right now, Murshidabad is quiet but broken. Police and paramilitary forces are everywhere. Families are mourning their loved ones—Haragobindo, Chandan, and young Ezaz. Legal proceedings have begun for those arrested, but justice will take time. More importantly, healing will take even longer.
I keep thinking about the youth involved in all this. What pushed them? Was it fear, disillusionment, or blind rage? Maybe all three. And as for Mamata Banerjee, she’s got a tightrope to walk—defending her people without fuelling more fires. She’s shaped Bengal for a decade, but this might be one of her biggest challenges yet.
At the end of the day, this is not just a Bengal issue. It’s a reflection of how reforms are introduced in our country. Governance isn’t just about rules—it’s about empathy and timing. When laws are passed without listening to ground realities, we risk more such tragedies.
We can’t afford another Ezaz. We can’t let more homes burn. If there’s a lesson here, it’s that we need to ask the right questions—start with the “why,” not just “who.”
- If this topic caught your attention, here’s another one worth checking out: Waqf Bill 2025: What’s Really Going On? Why So Much Noise?
- Interested in this? You’ll also want to read: 3 killed, 150 arrested; BJP claims Hindus fleeing homes
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