Kashmir: Thinning Snow, Neglected Canals Disrupting Irrigation Systems

Parsa Tariq | 26 Mar 2026

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In Litter village, changing snowfall patterns are colliding with the decline of collective water management, leaving canals dry and farmers struggling.

A picture revealing the condition of the dried canals (Photo - Zeeshan Shabir) .

Pulwama, Jammu and Kashmir: In Litter village of south Kashmir's Pulwama district, the canals that once carried water through most of the year now run shallow, reduced to thin, uncertain streams.

For farmers like Bashir Ahmad Kullay (56), the change has not arrived as a single event. It has unfolded slowly, winter after winter, as snowfall has thinned, melted faster, and disappeared earlier than it used to.

"Earlier, rivers and canals had water for most of the year," Kullay said, standing beside a narrow irrigation channel that cuts across his fields. "Now, because snowfall is low, water levels have dropped sharply. Farming has become difficult."

Last year, he recalled, the pattern itself seemed to shift. There was excess water early in the season, followed by a dry July. The snow that should have sustained irrigation into summer had already melted away.

"Water came at the wrong time," he said. "The paddy had just been transplanted. It needs standing water then. But the fields had already started drying. The crops were damaged."

What farmers like Kullay are describing is not just a decline in snowfall, but a deeper breakdown of Kashmir’s irrigation system, one that depended both on snow stored in the mountains and collective management on the ground. Both are now weakening at the same time.

A system under strain

Litter village is surrounded by paddy fields and orchards, with a network of narrow irrigation canals running through the farmland. These canals draw water from feeder streams connected to the Rambi Ara, a river that originates in the Pir Panjal range and flows through parts of Shopian and Pulwama before joining the larger Jhelum river system.

Residents said that the changes are visible not just in the canals, but upstream as well.

Some pointed to illegal extraction of sand, gravel and boulders from the Rambi Ara stream near Lassipora. A local resident said that the mining usually takes place at night.

“Rambi Ara flows past our area, and people extract boulders and gravel from it in Lassipora,” he said. “They bring machines like JCBs and trucks and work during the night. It’s not just one or two tippers, sometimes dozens of truckloads are taken out in a single night. Because of this, the water level has gone down.”

Residents say the reduced water level has affected the amount of water entering irrigation canals in nearby villages.

For generations, irrigation in villages like Litter functioned as a shared system. Snow accumulated in the Pir Panjal mountains through winter and melted gradually, feeding streams that were diverted into canals. These canals, in turn, were maintained both by government departments and by villagers themselves.

Before each agricultural season, residents would collectively clear silt from smaller channels, ensuring water reached fields across the village, including those at the tail end.

That system is now weakening.

Maintenance of the canal network officially falls under the Irrigation and Flood Control Department. Residents say that in earlier years, villagers would also collectively clear silt from smaller channels before the irrigation season began. But farmers say such community efforts have declined over time, leaving most maintenance dependent on government departments.

As that collective system has eroded, delays in state response have become more visible.

Kullay added that maintenance often comes too late. "Canal cleaning is the responsibility of the irrigation department. But the work usually starts during the farming season."

A field supervisor in the irrigation department said: “If we clean the canals too early, they fill with silt again by the time farmers begin transplanting paddy.”

Snow is no longer reliable storage

A growing body of research suggests that snow cover in Jammu and Kashmir has been steadily declining, with sharper reductions observed in recent years. This winter offered a stark example. During Chillai Kalan, the 40-day period traditionally associated with the heaviest snowfall, large parts of the Valley recorded a severe precipitation deficit, leaving little snow to sustain water flow later in the season. Without sufficient snowpack, whatever snow does fall now melts quickly, sending water downstream early and leaving little for the months when crops need it most.

"Snowfall patterns in Kashmir are shifting," said Sanjeev Singh Parihar, a water resources engineer who works on hydrology, watershed management, and climate-linked water systems. "A greater proportion of winter precipitation is falling as rain instead of snow, and the accumulated snow is melting earlier than it historically did."

Snowpack, he explained, traditionally acted as seasonal storage. "With reduced snow accumulation and earlier melt, water availability during the peak agricultural season, especially June and July, is declining.” Warmer temperatures are advancing the snowmelt cycle, shifting peak river discharge earlier by several weeks.

"This results in relatively higher flows in March or April, followed by reduced discharge during peak crop water demand months," Parihar said. "For farmers cultivating paddy, which requires standing water during early summer, this timing mismatch creates irrigation stress."

The effect, he added, is a weakening of the natural storage system itself. "Rapid melting produces short-duration high flows rather than sustained baseflow. Streams now see early pulses of water followed by low-flow conditions later in the season."

Persistent problems

For farmers at the tail end of canal networks, the impact is even more severe.

Mohammad Altaf Paray, a 48-year-old farmer from Awantipora, said that last year, water never reached his fields at all.

"We prepared the land, used tractors, did everything," he said. "But our fields are at the tail end. When water reduced, it didn't reach us."

His crops dried up. "Earlier, one kanal would give a profit of twenty to thirty thousand rupees. Last year, instead of profit, we had to bear a loss of five thousand. All the hard work was wasted."

Altaf and other farmers in Awantipora had submitted repeated requests to repair a government-installed pump system meant to supply water to their fields.

The pump exists, but no longer functions effectively.

"The water level has gone down, and the pipe is above the water. It does not work."

Farmers requested that the pipe be lowered to match the new water level. The request remains pending.

"It has been years. Nothing has been done."

This trend has pushed farmers to rely on individual solutions rather than community ones.

Across south Kashmir, farmers are increasingly turning to private borewells which is a costly shift and also encourages the weakening of shared irrigation systems.

Junaid Yusuf (30)  installed a borewell on his land at his own expense, spending nearly Rs 1.5 to 2 lakh.

"I arranged the money myself," he said. "I took a loan."

The borewell, he said, is used for irrigation, not for paddy cultivation.

While government support exists, access to it remains uneven.

An irrigation department official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said that under schemes such as the Holistic Agriculture Development Programme, farmers can receive between 50 to 70 percent subsidy on borewell installations.

However, the official acknowledged that this support depends on available funds and application timelines.

Yusuf said he did not receive any subsidy.

"The process takes time. There is a lot of paperwork. You don't know when the money will come."

According to him, even when applications are approved, funds can take six to twelve months to be released.

"You have to spend first and then wait. Sometimes you don't know if you will get the money at all."

Experts say the issue is not only climatic, but also one of management.

"Declining snowpack is a major factor," Parihar said. "But sedimentation in canals, upstream changes, rising evapotranspiration, and inadequate maintenance also reduce effective water delivery."

Deforestation and construction in upstream areas can further accelerate water loss.

"They reduce infiltration and groundwater recharge, and increase runoff velocity. Water drains out quickly instead of being retained."

Experts warn that growing dependence on groundwater may not be sustainable.

"If extraction increases without adequate recharge, groundwater levels could decline," Parihar said. "That could create another crisis."

Changing crops

For farmers, the shift is already visible in their fields. In Pulwama, Shabir Ahmad Bhat (63) said that there was a time when paddy stretched across much of the landscape.

"Earlier, large areas here were under paddy," he said. "But because of water shortage, people are shifting."

"Now people are planting high-density apple orchards. For that, even less water can work."

Experts say such shifts can reduce water demand, but they are not a complete solution.

"Moving to horticulture can be a rational adaptation," Parihar said. "But these crops still depend on reliable seasonal water, and they introduce new economic risks."

In Shopian, Haris Mushtaq Mir (25) said the decline has been visible for several years.

"Where we used to earn ten rupees, now we earn five. If this continues, we may not be able to continue farming."

Back in Litter, Kullay says farmers are adjusting as best as they can — changing crops, reducing land under cultivation, finding new ways to access water.

But adaptation, he says, has limits.

"Farming depends on water," he said. "If water is not there, what can we do?"

Parsa Tariq is a freelance journalist and a member of 101Reporters, a pan-India network of grassroots reporters. 

 

50 Years Since Start of Argentina’s Bloody Dictatorship

Pablo Meriguet | 27 Mar 2026

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The factors behind the coup d’état, the historical context, and the role of foreign interference are all part of the memory of the dictatorship. The battle over that memory may influence Argentina’s present and future.

Oath of Jorge Rafael Videla as President of Argentina following the coup in 1976. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

March 24 marks the 50th anniversary of the start of one of the bloodiest and most ruthless military dictatorships in 20th-century history. In 1976, in Argentina, the leaders of the Argentine Army, supported directly and indirectly by the US government (through its military and intelligence forces), overthrew the government and ruled until December 10, 1983.

The number of murders, rapes, arbitrary detentions, and disappearances are truly horrifying. According to various reports, the figures on crimes against humanity – which are corroborated by most of the country’s and region’s most reputable historians – speak for themselves regarding the brutality of the military government:

• 30,000 disappeared;
• 15,000 murdered;
• 8,500 arbitrarily imprisoned, including priests, nuns, the elderly, people with disabilities, women, and children;
• 1,000,000 involuntarily displaced and exiled within Argentina or to other countries;
• Forced expropriation and the illegal sale of many of the victims’ properties;
• Imprisonment in concentration camps and the establishment of detention and torture sites in various parts of the country;
• Countless cases of rape, beatings, dismemberment, electrocution, etc.;
• Illegal adoption of more than 300 children born in captivity whose parents were murdered.

Historical revisionism as political justification

Although a significant portion of Argentine society views the dictatorship as a social trauma that is difficult to forget due to the brutality of the acts committed (nearly 70% of Argentines condemn the 1976 dictatorship), others have attempted to justify the need for the military government’s imposition by citing political instability. In this regard, significant attempts have been made to revise history to claim that the figures for the dictatorship’s crimes are not as high.

Currently, the figure who most questions these figures is the president, the far-right Javier Milei, according to whom, despite historical documents proving otherwise, there was no systematic plan to repress and eliminate revolutionary groups, but rather an “internal war” in which the Armed Forces committed excesses. Furthermore, Milei, true to his controversial and provocative style, claims that the actual number of disappeared persons does not exceed 9,000.

In fact, the idea that the 1976 dictatorship was a consequence of the political activity of the Argentine left has been upheld since the early days of the military government, which proclaimed itself the “National Reorganization Process”. According to these arguments, the Argentine revolutionary left was murdering, disappearing, and torturing people, leaving the Army with no alternative but to seize power and “restore order”. This is precisely the interpretation of history that Milei’s inner circle of intellectuals defends half a century later.

The origins of a bloody dictatorship

However, when one looks closely at the history of that era and subjects it to the test of time and declassified documents, the reasons are clear. Between 1973 and 1976, the phenomenon known as Peronism once again seized political power in the country. And it was precisely during this period that the bloodbath that would institutionalize the military dictatorship years later began.

It is a matter of debate whether the military officer and leader of the country’s most popular party, Juan Domingo Perón, was aware of the plans being hatched to eradicate the revolutionary left in Argentina, especially considering that a segment of that left – which would be annihilated in subsequent years – identified with Peronism, even going so far as to found its own armed movement, called the Montoneros.

Within Peronism – a heterogeneous political force rife with internal tensions (even to this day) – some factions negotiated with the wealthiest and most reactionary sectors of Argentine society. One of these was Perón’s personal secretary and, later, minister of social welfare, José López Rega, who, according to historian Sergio Guerra, also served as a CIA agent.

Following Perón’s death (after which his wife, Estela “Isabel” Martínez, succeeded him as head of government), López Rega acquired enormous power, and between 1974 and 1975, various paramilitary organizations, such as the Argentine Anticommunist Alliance (led by López Rega), murdered and disappeared more than a thousand Argentine activists and political leaders, including Montoneros militants, trade unionists from the Argentine Workers’ Central Union (CTA), and several priests who advocated Liberation Theology (among them, the renowned priest Carlos Mugica).

During those years, thousands of people were fired from their jobs, both in the public and private sectors, as was the case with hundreds of university professors who were forced to leave their positions (many of whom went into exile to save their lives). In addition, there were arbitrary arrests of students, workers, and others, thereby intensifying the repression against the working classes. The most serious case of repression before the dictatorship occurred in the province of Tucumán, where the Army launched an incursion to wipe out the guerrilla forces of the People’s Revolutionary Army (ERP).

During that offensive, the head of the operation, Acdel Vilas, confirmed that he did not obey the law and executed anyone he considered a threat, “including lawyers and judges complicit in subversion… It was then that I gave explicit orders to classify ERP prisoners according to their importance and dangerousness, so that only the harmless ones would be brought before a judge.” The others were killed without trial. Vilas paved the way for extrajudicial killings that would later be employed by the military dictatorship, in which he served in key positions.

It is important to remember that the mechanism of establishing military dictatorships in the South American country was not foreign to the practices of local economic elites. Just before the Cámpora-Perón government, Argentina had emerged from a dictatorship that lasted from 1966 to 1973, which also committed reprehensible acts, such as the Trelew massacre, in which several political prisoners were extrajudicially murdered.

In other words, historically speaking, Argentina’s most powerful economic sectors have always turned to dictatorships to reshape the political landscape when things seemed to be spiraling out of control. They did so with Peronism and radicalism, and they did it again in 1976, as part of a regional offensive against the revolutionary left.

The Cold War in Latin America

The anti-communist fervor, which served as the defining ideology of the Latin American right in the 20th century, called for the destruction, by any means necessary, of any political group that advocated ideas of social transformation. This discourse, openly promoted by US intelligence agencies, encouraged the most reactionary sectors of Latin American societies – thanks to the support of the CIA, the Pentagon, and local militaries – to push for the overthrow of the democratic order and the destruction of left forces most committed to social change.

This is how the infamous “Plan Condor”, sponsored and, according to some historians, organized by the United States, came into effect. The various South American armies coordinated with one another to carry out intelligence operations, the persecution, and the execution of political leaders they considered “dangerous”. Thousands of people would be murdered in the years to come by paramilitary and/or military groups acting under the coordination of dictatorial governments, even though the latter denied any knowledge of their activities. But this strategy of murder, rape, and torture predates the 1970s.

Even before the formalization of Operation Condor, several South American militaries had seized political power and imposed brutal dictatorships. In the 1960s, ruthless anti-communist dictatorships were established through violence in Ecuador, Brazil, Bolivia, and other countries. This pattern continued into the 1970s: the Banzer dictatorship in Bolivia, the Bordaberry dictatorship in Uruguay, the Pinochet dictatorship in Chile, and the military triumvirate in Ecuador, among others, all invoked the supposed justification of curbing any revolutionary potential in these countries.

These operations were radical in nature; that is, the military dictatorships violently annihilated – in violation of human rights – the political groups that advocated for a change in the economic model and true independence from any form of imperialism, especially US imperialism, which controlled the region as “its backyard”, according to the well-known Monroe Doctrine. Hence, the United States’ enormous interest in destroying any possibility of losing influence in the midst of the Cold War. Argentina was no exception.

The development of the coup

Indeed, the United States had information twelve months before the coup took place. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger played a key role in this regard; he served as a vital link between the Latin American military dictatorships and the US government and was a major architect of the implementation of the US National Security Doctrine.

But attempts to undermine the democratic order had begun earlier. On December 18, 1975, several planes strafed the seat of government, the Casa Rosada. The rebellion was largely quelled by Air Force Commander Héctor Fautario, the last high-ranking officer loyal to President Estela “Isabel” Perón and an opponent of Jorge Rafael Videla, who would later become the dictatorship’s supreme leader. Fautario had refused to bomb Tucumán during the offensive against the ERP.

Following the failed coup attempt, Videla issued an ultimatum to President Perón to restore order in the country. The fact that one of the army’s leaders was threatening the president underscored the extremely critical nature of the situation. Once the guerrilla front in Tucumán had been decimated, and with Washington’s approval, a new coup attempt was set in motion – only this time, it would succeed.

President Estela Perón was arrested in the early hours of March 24. She would not be released until five years later. The army quickly assumed executive, legislative, and judicial control of the country and seized all radio and television stations. A statement from the armed forces declared: “As of this date, the country is under the operational control of the Military Junta. All residents are advised to strictly comply with the provisions and directives issued by military, security, or police authorities, as well as to exercise extreme caution in avoiding individual or group actions and attitudes that may require drastic intervention by personnel on duty.” It was signed by the coup leaders: Jorge Videla, Eduardo Massera, and Orlando Agosti.

Martial law, the state of siege, and the constant patrolling of Argentina’s streets were only the prelude to what was to come. A state-led operation – national in scope, premeditated, and institutionalized – began to exert its power over the Argentine civilian population.

March 24, 1976, thus marked the beginning of one of the darkest periods in Argentine history. Today, those who defend the dictatorship’s actions are in the minority, but 50 years after the coup d’état, the narrative of those who (seeking to justify the grave human rights violations Argentina endured) admire the actions of the military coup leaders and their methods is beginning to gain traction.

Argentina, thus, not only remembers what happened, but constantly rediscovers that memory is also an endless, steep, and exhausting battlefield. Despite this, the majority of Argentine society dares to remember and understand how pain is also useful in preventing its repetition. This is a struggle for memory that continues, and whose consequences could well shape Argentina’s future.

Courtesy: Peoples Dispatch

 

West Bengal: Growing Distress of Potato Farmers

Madhu Sudan Chatterjee

 | 25 Mar 2026

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Farmers across several districts, most of them under heavy debt, are struggling to find buyers for their produce as prices drop.

 

Farmers harvesting potatoes and piling them up in the fields. This image was taken in the field of Raibaghini village in Kululpur Block of Bankura . Photo by Madhu Sudan Chatterjee

Across rural Bengal, a deep sense of uncertainty has begun to take hold among potato farmers this season. What is usually a time of relief after months of labour has instead turned into a period marked by anxiety, financial strain, and difficult questions about survival.

Due to a continuous drop in market prices of potatoes following the harvest, farmers across several districts are struggling to find buyers for their produce. Those who invested heavily in potato cultivation are now living in a state of extreme uncertainty. A majority of these farmers had taken loans to fund their cultivation. With the market collapsing, they are now haunted by the question of how to repay their debts while sustaining their families.

In the midst of this deepening crisis, a disturbing rise in deaths among potato farmers has cast a dark shadow across the state. Over 15 days, four farmers in Bengal have reportedly died due to distress in the agrarian sector. On March 11, a marginal farmer Rakhal Ari, 28, from Rangamati village in Chadrakona 1 block of Paschim Medinipur district died by suicide after consuming pesticide at his home. Earlier, a farmer named Sahadeb Pal, 54, from Amrapath village in Goghat 2 block under Hooghly district also reportedly took his own life. In a similar tragedy, an elderly farmer, Shailen Ghose, 78, from Kadipara village in Kalna 2 block under Purbo Bardhaman died by hanging himself. On Monday, March 23, morning, 35-year-old sharecropper Haripada Bag of Jharul village in Chandrakona 1 block under Paschim Medinipur district collapsed and died in his fields. He was reportedly unable to bear the sight of the potatoes he had cultivated rotting in the fields. 

It can be said that lakhs of potato farmers across West Bengal now stand on the brink of ruin, staring into a precipice of complete devastation. Who will save them? This haunting question now echoes across every corner of the state.

The price of potatoes is falling rapidly every day. On March 24, the price of the most popular Jyoti variety of potatoes was Rs 600 per quintal, yet there were no buyers. Nearly 40% of this year’s potato production is still lying in the fields, with no buyers in sight. What will happen to unsold produce continues to haunt thousands of farmers.

The scale of distress facing potato farmers in West Bengal came into sharp focus on Tuesday, as a voice from one of state’s key potato-growing belts painted a grim picture. In Raibaghini village under Kotulpur block of Bankura district, farmer Jayanta Mallik laid bare the harsh economics crushing cultivators.

“A tractor load of potatoes, about 50 quintals, fetches barely Rs 5,000 in the market,” he told this writer, adding “transporting that same load to a cold storage facility costs another Rs 5,000 in tractor rent alone”.  The burden does not end there. Farmers spend Rs 30 per sack to pack 50 kilograms of potatoes, while storage charges at cold facilities stand at Rs 184 per quintal. With input coasts far outstripping returns, cultivators say they are being pushed to the brink.

“Just think about where we have reached”, Mallik said, his voice heavy with despair. “Soon, we may have to step out with begging bowls,” he added.

Govt Measures and Gaps on Ground

The situation has raised serious concern among potato farmers across the state. In response to falling prices, the State Agriculture Marketing Department issued a directive on February 13 stating that the government would procure potatoes from farmers holding Krishak Bandhu cards at a rate of ₹950 per quintal. Each farmer would be allowed to sell up to 35 quintals (70 packets) of potatoes to the government.

According to the directive, the procured potatoes would be stored under the supervision of the respective District Magistrates. Cold storage facilities were also instructed to keep 30% of their capacity vacant until March 25 to accommodate government procurement.

However, despite the announcement, government procurement has reportedly taken place in only one or two areas in the state. In most areas, farmers say that no potatoes have been purchased so far. As a result, they are being forced to store their produce in cold storages at a heavy loss. Most storage facilities are already filled to capacity, leaving farmers with few options.

A Wider Structural Crisis

Uttar Pradesh is the largest producer of potatoes in India, followed by West Bengal. The state has vast tracts of suitable soil and favourable weather conditions for potato cultivation. Every year, between the first and last week of November, different varieties of potato seeds are planted across West Bengal.

The leading potato-producing districts include Hooghly, Purba and Paschim Bardhaman, Paschim Medinipur and Bankura. Other significant potato-growing districts are Howrah, Jhargram, Birbhum, Murshidabad, Jalpaiguri, Alipurduar, Uttar Dinajpur and Nadia.

Several varieties of potatoes are cultivated in Bengal, including Jyoti, Pokhraj, Himanggini, S-6, Chandramukhi and K-22. Among these, Jyoti is the most widely cultivated and has the highest market demand.

According to reliable sources in the Agriculture Department, this year potatoes have been cultivated on 5.14 lakh hectares. The state government estimates that total potato production, including all varieties, will reach 140–150 lakh tonnes. This is a 20% rise over last year and marks a new record for potato production in the state.

Nearly 10 lakh families in the state are involved in potato cultivation. The 496 cold storage facilities have a total capacity of 82 lakh tonnes. Farmers are unable to figure out how prices will improve for potatoes that cannot be stored in cold storage. At most, 16 crore 40 lakh packets of potatoes (each weighing 50 kg) can be stored, whereas total production this year has reached nearly 26 crore packets.

“Where will the remaining potatoes go?” questioned Lalu Mukherjee, state secretary of Paschimbanga Pragatisheel Alu Byabsayi Samity.

Voices from Different Districts

“No one is quoting a fair price for potatoes. The rates are falling every day. It’s impossible to store all the produce in cold storages, so we are leaving the harvested potatoes in the fields, covered with straw, hoping prices will improve. But due to lack of buyers, these potatoes are now rotting,” said Tapan Maity from Parshura in Hooghly district.

He said Chandramukhi potatoes are priced at around ₹600 per quintal, Jyoti at ₹100, while Pokhraj, Hemalini and Colombo varieties are not finding buyers even at ₹50 per quintal.

Farmers Jayanta Mallik and SubashKundu from Raibaghini village of Kotulpur in Bankura district echoed similar distress. Large quantities of potatoes remain unsold in the fields. They further pointed out that even the cost of synthetic bags has surged, with a 50 kg sack now costing ₹25-30.

“If we earn barely ₹30 from selling a sack of potatoes (50kg) and have to spend ₹25 just to buy the bag, what are we left with?” they said, adding “We are being pushed into complete ruin.”

Regarding the state government’s directive asking cold storage owners to procure potatoes directly from farmers, several owners from Bankura, Medinipur and Hooghly districts expressed concern that they would need to take loans from banks to do so.

“In that case, the government must act as the guarantor for those loans. Otherwise, if prices fall further, how will we repay the debt?” they questioned.

Despite these challenges, some cold storages in Hooghly and Medinipur have already begun purchasing potatoes. However, in districts like Bankura, the process is yet to start.

Limits of Relief Measures

The reality is that the government will not procure potatoes from all farmers. Purchases will be limited only to those who possess a Krishak Bandhu card. Moreover, there is a cap—only up to 35 quintals of potatoes will be bought from each farmer.

On average, potato yields this season have reached 50–60 quintals per bigha. With such production levels, farmers are left wondering where they will sell the remaining surplus.

A significant number of farmers do not have Krishak Bandhu cards, as many of them are sharecroppers. What will happen to them?

Adding to their distress, the government directive states that potatoes weighing less than 35 grams will not be procured. This raises yet another pressing question—what will become of the smaller-grade produce?

With no visible relief or clear solution in sight, the crisis facing Bengal’s potato farmers is deepening with each passing moment.

Life in Rangamati Village

Rangamati village, about 60 km north of Medinipur and around 10 km from Chandrakona town, is predominantly inhabited by Scheduled Caste (SC) communities largely dependent on agriculture for livelihood. There are no big landowners in the village.

“Most families in this village received pattas (permanent land titles) for government land during the Left Front regime. Earlier, we had to travel outside in search of work. After receiving the land titles, many agricultural labourers gradually became cultivators,” said Sanjay Bhuiya, a marginal farmer from Rangamati village. He said most villagers own no more than 4–5 bighas of cultivation land.

Another major problem in the area is that during the monsoon, floodwaters from the Shilaboti River often damage crops. Every year, paddy cultivation suffers significant losses due to flooding, and this year too farmers’ paddy crops were damaged.

“Last year, too, farmers did not receive a fair price for potatoes, although the losses were slightly lower. This year, however, the situation has been unfavourable right from the beginning. Potato production has been exceptionally high, reaching levels never seen before. Yet the pressing question is: where are the buyers?” said Tapan Pandit, a farmer from Rangamati village.

Scenes from the Fields

A visit to the village fields reveals a grim but quiet reality. Farmers, with downcast faces, continue harvesting potatoes under a cloud of uncertainty.

Batul Gurat, along with his wife Ila Gurat and their sons Anupam and Subham and daughter Tiya, were seen digging out potatoes from their land. In the adjoining field, TarapadaDalui, Animesh Badui, Kamala and Chhabi Ari were engaged in the same backbreaking task.

“We have spent nearly ₹30,000 per bigha to cultivate potatoes. Now the market sell price has fallen to ₹200 per quintal. We are staring at massive losses,” they said.

“Who will buy our produce? All of us are heading towards ruin. Who will save us?”

They added that leaving potatoes underground would only lead to further spoilage, forcing them to harvest despite losses.

“We cannot even afford to hire farm labourers. How will we get the money to pay their wages? We do not know what the future holds for us,” they said.

A Family’s Struggle

In Majhpara of the village stands the home of a marginal farmer whose family now sits silently on the veranda, overcome with grief and uncertainty. He was the sole earning member of the family. Left behind are his elderly mother, his wife, and two minor children.

“We have only 10 kathas of our own land. He had taken about three and a half bighas of land on share to cultivate potatoes. Now everything is ruined,” said his mother, Archana Ari, breaking down.

She recalled how she had struggled to raise her children after her husband passed away when her son was still in her womb. Over time, he became the sole support of the family.

His wife, Rita Ari, sat silently beside their two sons—Ananda, a Class VI student, and Abir, a Class II student.

“Before cultivating potatoes this year, my husband had pawned some of my jewellery to borrow money at interest. He also had outstanding debts at fertiliser and seed shops. For cultivation, he borrowed additional cash, promising that once the potatoes were harvested, he would repay all debts and redeem my jewellery,” she said.

She recalled how they harvested potatoes from their land together. A trader had promised to buy at ₹400 per quintal, but later reduced the price to ₹250.

“My husband was completely shattered,” she said, pointing to empty potato sacks lying unused.

“The cost of cultivation was nearly ₹30,000 per bigha. We produced around 60 quintals per bigha. If the price drops to ₹200 per quintal, we stand to incur a loss of nearly ₹20,000 per bigha,” she explained.

Administration and Response

In connection with the incident, Prasenjit Maity, the Krishi Karmadhyaksha of Chandrakona 1 Panchayat Samiti, stated that there are 48,753 farmers in the block who hold Krishak Bandhu cards.

“The government has announced procurement of potatoes from farmers; however, cold storage facilities are yet to begin purchasing. This has naturally led to a crisis situation. Moreover, with bumper production this season, prices have been falling steadily every day. We are unable to understand how to resolve this crisis at the moment. Farmers are suffering from deep distress,” he said.

Meanwhile, Block Development Officer Krishnendu Biswas stated that the administration is aware of the situation and has taken initiatives to procure potatoes.

Farmer organisations have also raised demands for higher procurement prices and compensation for affected families.

When Distress Turns into Tragedy

Amid this prolonged crisis, the strain on farmers has continued to intensify. Within a short span of time in March, three potato farmers in Bengal lost their lives.

Rakhal Ari (28) from Rangamati village in Paschim Medinipur, Sahadeb Nandi (57) from Hooghly district, and Sailen Ghose (78) from Kalna Block 2 were among those who died.

Their deaths have sent shockwaves across farming communities, deepening the sense of fear and uncertainty among others who are facing similar circumstances.

For many farmers across Bengal, the question remains unresolved—not just about prices or procurement, but about survival itself.

“A few years ago, potatoes from Bengal were exported to other states for sale. However, for the past three years, the state government has put a stop to this. As a result, the state has led to the crisis worsening to a severe level,” said Lalu Mukherjee, state secretary of Paschimbanga Pragatisheel Alu Byabsayi samity.  He said neither farmers nor traders have any clear idea of how the potato situation will unfold this year. According to him, they are all standing on the brink of a potential disaster.

The writer covers the Jangalmahal region for ‘Ganashakti’ newspaper in West Bengal.

Bengal Elections: Voter Purge Hits Muslim Districts Hardest

Sandip Chakraborty | 27 Mar 2026

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For millions of voters across five Muslim-majority districts, the search for their names on ECI’s list has become an exercise in dread.

Representational Image. Image Courtesy: PTI

Kolkata: At midnight on March 23, the Election Commission of India (ECI) quietly uploaded a document to its website. It was called a "first supplementary list" — the latest output of the Special Intensive Revision, or SIR, of Bengal's electoral rolls. Within hours, the portal crashed under the weight of people trying to find their names.

For millions of voters across five Muslim-majority districts, that search has become an exercise in dread. Weeks before Assembly elections scheduled to begin April 23, West Bengal is in the grip of the most sweeping episode of disenfranchisement in its post-Independence history — and possibly the country's.

The Scale

The numbers are extraordinary. Over 63.66 lakh names were deleted from Bengal's final electoral rolls published on February 28. That is more than 8.3% of the entire electorate, drawn from a registered base of 7.66 crore voters. Another 60 lakh remain trapped in a category called "Under Adjudication" — their voting rights frozen, no reasons given, no functioning appeals mechanism in place.

Five districts account for over 58% of all adjudicated names: Murshidabad (11.01 lakh), Malda (8.28 lakh), North 24 Parganas (5.91 lakh), South 24 Parganas (5.22 lakh), and Uttar Dinajpur (4.80 lakh). Each has a large Muslim population. The geographic clustering is not incidental — it is the story.

In Lalgola, a constituency where more than three in four residents are Muslim, one polling booth with a 99% Muslim electorate saw over 15% of its voters flagged. A Hindu-majority booth nearby had 2 flagged out of 622.

In Raghunathganj, nearly half of all registered voters were placed under adjudication. Among those whose cases were resolved in the supplementary list, 22.6% were deleted outright — with some booths recording 100% deletion rates among adjudicated cases.

"This is not a voter list revision," said Sabir Ahamed of the Pratichi Institute. "This is a citizenship audit conducted against one community — without notice, and without remedy."

A BLO Who Lost His Own Vote

Mohammad Shafiul Alam spent months going door to door in Bashirhat. As a Booth Level Officer or BLO — an official appointed by the Election Commission itself — he helped voters fill the SIR forms, digitised entries, and ensured compliance. He was, in every formal sense, an instrument of the process.

When the supplementary list came out, his own name was missing.

"I helped others and lost my own vote," he said. "There is no reason mentioned. I have been told to reapply within 15 days."

His parents' names appear in the 2002 SIR rolls — the very benchmark the Commission uses for validation. His documents were complete. None of it mattered.

Fear Along the Bhagirathi

In the villages of Murshidabad, SIR is not experienced as paperwork. It is experienced as fear.

Families that have voted for three generations are being flagged for what officials call "logical discrepancies" — a phrase that has never been officially defined. The Bhagirathi riverbank towns of Domkol and Raghunathganj have seen booth after booth with deletion rates that civil society groups describe as unprecedented.

A weaver in Domkol, who has voted in every election since he turned eighteen, put it plainly: "My grandfather voted here. My father voted here. I have voted here every election. Now they say there is a discrepancy. What is the logic? That I am Muslim?"

Between November 2025 and January 2026, more than 100 deaths were documented across Bengal with links to SIR-related stress — suicides among voters who received deletion notices, and among field staff overwhelmed by impossible workloads. These are not aberrations. The are a pattern.

Bhabanipur Is Not Spared

The SIR has reached even the constituency of Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee. In Bhabanipur, 44,000 names were excluded in earlier rounds. A further 14,000 were placed under adjudication, with 2,000 flagged for discrepancies. In a constituency of 2.6 lakh voters, nearly one in five now faces some form of disenfranchisement.

The figure is significant not just politically, but symbolically: even in the heart of the ruling party's most prominent seat, the SIR's reach has proven indiscriminate.

A Constitutional Void

What the SIR has created is not merely an electoral problem. It is a constitutional one.

India's Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that the right to vote, while statutory in origin, is foundational to the democratic structure. Yet millions of voters now exist in a legal no-man's land: their names suspended, no reasons furnished, no appellate tribunals functioning despite court directions to establish them, and elections weeks away.

The situation has produced an absurdity with no precedent. Sitting MLAs and candidates from BJP, TMC, and CPI(M) have been found in the "Under Adjudication" category. The question this raises — can a person contest an election in which they are not permitted to vote? — has been posed to no authority. None has answered.

The Calcutta High Court has been engaged at various stages. The Supreme Court has acknowledged a "trust deficit" between the state government and the Election Commission. The process has continued regardless — unresolved and unaccountable.

Politics Behind the Purge

For BJP, the SIR was never purely administrative. Senior leader Sukanta Majumdar said publicly that the revision was intended to "cleanse" the rolls ahead of 2026. The language of infiltration and illegal migration has run alongside the technical language of electoral revision throughout the process.

But empirical analysis complicates the narrative. Researchers examining the deletion lists have found that surnames like "Saha" and "Kumar" — associated with Hindu communities — appear in significant numbers. In Kolkata Port constituency, 60% of deleted voters were non-Muslim. The supposed mass presence of "infiltrator voters" is largely absent from the data.

The fallout has reached BJP's own base. In Gaighata, a constituency dominated by the Matua community — refugees from Bangladesh who have been promised citizenship under the Citizenship Amendment Act or CAA — 14.51% of voters were found unmapped, among the highest rates in the state. The community that was told CAA would secure their citizenship is now finding its members caught in the same adjudicatory limbo as the Muslims the process was ostensibly designed to scrutinise.

The Centre's decision to establish fast-track CAA courts just days after the SIR list was released has deepened suspicion that disenfranchisement and "citizenship rescue" are being politically sequenced — a carrot-and-stick delivered simultaneously.

The Midnight List

The timing of the March 23 release was not an operational accident. Midnight drops of lists determining the voting rights of crore of people, portals that crash hours after going live, "logical discrepancy" flags with no accompanying definition, 15-day reapplication windows with elections imminent — these are not glitches in the system. They are the system.

The ECI was constituted to protect the franchise. In West Bengal, through the SIR, it has administered a process that has suspended millions from exercising it — disproportionately from one community, without explanation, without recourse, and with no time remaining to set things right before polling day.

A weaver in Domkol, a BLO in Bashirhat, a resident of the Chief Minister's own constituency — none of them know if they will be allowed to vote. Elections begin in four weeks.

Democracy is not merely the act of voting. It is the guarantee that one can. In Bengal, that guarantee has been broken