The name of Felani Khatun can now be added to history’s roll call of tragics. She must figure somewhere near the top as well, for hers is an especially sad tale. Aged 15 or so (one never knows, with the rural population of Bangladesh), she was shot dead by one of the trigger-happy, loser-got-lucky, gung ho baddies that patrol the more than 4,000-km porous border we share with India, a member of India’s Border Security Force.
What followed made it all worse, as the gruesome image of her death became a symbol of the routine brutality the BSF engages in along the border, making it the bloodiest in the world, and a mockery of the idea that our two countries are “friendly neighbours.”
I remember the picture coming in on one of the wire services, and being revolted by the thought of publishing it. It was still of questionable authenticity, and seemed so distasteful, but quickly went viral of course.
She hung like some doll, head-first towards the ground near the top of the almost 3m fence, its barbed wire meshed into her feet most likely, for sure in the lower half of her body, as she remained suspended in the air above ground that was still Indian.
In case you’re wondering, no, it isn’t common for countries to resort to such a severe demarcation of where one ends and the other begins. For all their troubles, there is no such separation along India’s border with Pakistan, where it could prevent the infiltration by militant elements that Delhi often complains about. Nor with Nepal or Bhutan.
But India has always found the handling of refugees or immigrants from Bangladesh an odious task, dating back to our War of Liberation, when an alleged 10 million fled there.
The barbed-wire fence they decided to put up all along the full length of the border, in the dying days of the last Hindu Nationalist BJP-led government (the current Congress-led government in its first term decided to go ahead with it following a review, possibly in response to the heckling they are often subjected to for counting on illegal immigrants from Bangladesh as part of their vote bank), is aimed at stopping not only the flow of illegal immigrants, weapons, counterfeit currency, and smuggled goods that are some of its features, but also the fallout from a possible climate catastrophe in the future in Bangladesh’s low-lying areas.
That would create the prospect of millions of “climate refugees,” those who survive the danger posed by the rising sea-level, although research shows such environmental migrants usually relocate within Bangladesh. Nevertheless, this inhuman fence is what the Indians felt was needed, and although some form of fencing has long-existed along parts of the border, now they are very close to having it in full.
There is however nothing in Indian law that sanctions the killing of would-be migrants trying to cross the border, even through breach of the fence. That is why the sense of inevitability that Mr Ekram Kabir lends to such an outcome (“Larger than life,” Dhaka Tribune, September 20) is somewhat misplaced.
According to Mr Kabir, when a BSF soldier spots the fence being severed by smugglers, “he has no other option (but) to shoot at the person.” Almost sympathetically, he goes on to characterise the act of shooting at someone crossing the fence as one of desperation by the BSF man to “save his job.” This simply isn’t correct.
For one thing, it ignores the reality of the situation all along the border, where smuggling is rife right under the BSF’s noses, indeed with their connivance, upon payment of a fee. The image of the BSF soldier trying to make his higher-ups “understand” that he was “alert” by shooting presupposes that he was hauled up for questioning over some individual’s crossing the border and getting caught in the first place, but such instances are extremely rare.
Above all, Indian law forbids BSF jawans from resorting to shooting at those trying to cross the border, except in self-defence. This is something that was reiterated by senior Congress leader P Chidambaram two years ago when he was home minister. The appropriate measure is for them to be hauled up and detained, before being deported at a later date.
Each time a BSF soldier kills and is questioned over it, he manages to escape punishment by filing a plea of self-defence. As this usually takes place in an internal court run by the BSF, with no other testimony other than that of the offending soldier, however implausible it may sound, the plea is almost never contested.
This is where the photographic evidence of Felani’s death comes in. By now, we all must have seen it. And those of us who have, will admit that it must be difficult to be able to pose any threat whatsoever to an armed member of a security force from that position. This is why the recent acquittal of Amiya Ghosh, the BSF jawan accused of having fired the shot that killed the young girl, is such a travesty of justice; because actual evidence exists to indicate he could not have been acting in self-defence.
This is also the most probable reason for which a retrial has been ordered by the BSF’s own competent authority although this was announced during a flurry of activity aimed at pleasing Bangladesh, and is just as likely to fizzle out again in the coming weeks and months.
The existence of the photograph is also the main reason why Indian human rights activists like Kirity Roy, secretary of Kolkata-based MASUM, and Maloy Sengupta, a retired judge, consider it “a duty” as Mr Roy put it to me in an email over the weekend, to pursue the matter in the Indian Supreme Court and seek compensation for Felani’s family.
Such acts of wanton bloodshed by the BSF sully the image of India, and is unbecoming of the position of influence they seek in the region. Who would have thought though, that our own government would act to pour cold water over any such efforts?
In an act of puerile subservience, the Bangladesh deputy high commission in Kolkata refused visas to both individuals two weeks back to enter Bangladesh, where they intended to carry out a fact-finding mission in preparation for the case.
Their inability to visit Bangladesh certainly hampers any such effort, but Mr Roy remains adamant about pressing on, even in the face of such a cruel reminder of how the ways of politics can circumvent the path to justice.
As for Felani, she who gave up longevity in life for longevity in death a most cruel fate, not only for her but for her family, who had their right to grieve in private taken away. In return for all this, her death could have been one that meant something to the human race, by lending its shadow to our common quest. Yet it seems with the connivance of her own government, hers, along with so many others like her, will have been in vain.
They all die in vain of course, they all must cry in the end. While we, who should hang our heads in shame, move on, comfortably ensconced in the next instalment of the game.
You see we never know, none of us is sure, whether or not somewhere in the afterlife, we will be confronted by a little girl clad in a red kameez to go with her purple salwar, who just wants to know what all we managed to achieve; what came in the end of the almighty row we kicked up by brandishing the image of her death.
