From Meghalaya to Kolkata: Inside the Indian mind post-July revolution

It was a rainy day in mid-August when our taxi wound through misty hills, lush green valleys, and cascading waterfalls on the way to Cherrapunji. 

As my wife and I exchanged our awe in Bangla, our driver glanced at us through the rearview mirror and asked if we were from Bangladesh or West Bengal.

When we told him we were Bangladeshis, his first question was, "What's the situation over there right now?" 

This didn't surprise us. Since arriving in Shillong, the hill station and capital of Meghalaya, a northeastern Indian state, we were frequently asked the same question by locals who were friendly enough to initiate a conversation.

"The situation in Bangladesh has calmed down now," was our response to everyone. Most, however, weren't convinced with this answer, as they had heard otherwise from their local media. 

"How can you say so? The TV channels and Facebook reels are saying that a civil war is going on there in full swing," they replied. 

We had to explain to them that while a student-led protest had indeed taken place that led to the ouster of Sheikh Hasina's regime, subsequently an interim government had been sworn in, headed by Nobel Laureate Dr Muhammad Yunus. Things seemed to have been going in the right direction ever since. 

The locals from the Khasi tribe would remain silent when they heard this, preferring not to challenge the narrative of someone directly from Bangladesh. 

It was unclear whether they truly believed us, but one thing was evident: they were remarkably open-minded and knew how to appreciate different perspectives.

Our driver that day, named Ravin, was a step ahead. While just as gentle as his fellow locals, he seemed to be more well-informed than most others.

"Do you guys still like Hasina?" he asked us again. And once we responded in the negative, he went on to say that he also thought the same. 

He mentioned reading reports from various international outlets, including the BBC, about what Hasina had done over the past month, which led to the deaths of hundreds of students and civilians.

"In our media, Sheikh Hasina has always been portrayed as a true friend of India. Even now, she is being shown as the victim in this whole ordeal," Ravin said.

According to him, their media and government, at both the central and regional levels, promoted the idea that Bangladesh is better off under the Awami League's rule, and that any other party coming to power would spell trouble for India.

"But I've often met tourists from Bangladesh, and they always seemed to despise Hasina. Since July, that disdain has turned into genuine hatred," Ravin noted. 

I was very curious to hear what this insightful taxi driver thought about the social media claims that suggested if the BNP returned to power, there would be conspiracies from within Bangladesh to detach the Seven Sisters from the rest of India. 

When I brought up the topic, Ravin burst into laughter. "I too have seen some memes on Facebook about this," he said. "I think it's simply hilarious and should be treated as such."

One waiter at the Indian Coffee House on College Street went so far as to say, "You should be ashamed that you're having fun in Kolkata while minorities are being killed by the hundreds in your own country."

He had his reasons for such belief, even if there is dissatisfaction among the people in this region, who blame India's central government for their state of underdevelopment. 

"It's natural for citizens to voice their dissent if they are unhappy with their life. That doesn't necessarily mean they want to separate from the country. The people in Meghalaya, at least, consider themselves true Indians," Ravin said proudly.

During our visit to Assam, particularly in its capital, Guwahati, we felt somewhat less welcome than in Meghalaya. 

Instead of receiving warmth and inquiries about the situation in Bangladesh, it seemed that some people in Guwahati viewed us with a hint of scepticism upon learning our nationality.

It didn't take us long to understand why. The people in Assam have a negative perception of illegal migration from Bangladesh, believing that large numbers of Bangladeshi migrants have entered Assam illegally over the decades. This issue has been a point of tension, especially concerning resources, jobs, and land.

We had a brief conversation about this with a local money exchanger, who spoke Bangla and was comparatively more welcoming toward us. 

"We often hear in news bulletins that Bangladeshis who have illegally migrated are being detained here in Assam. Naturally, many people develop a negative perception of Bangladeshis and fear that after Hasina's fall, there might be a new influx of Bangladeshi Hindus," he said.

This belief stems from the common perception among the Assamese that Hindu minorities in Bangladesh are being attacked and tortured, as circulated on social media platforms.

However, we saw several news reports in the Times of India's Guwahati edition where Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma and other top government officials stated that while illegal Bangladeshi migration remained a cause for concern, Hindu minorities from Bangladesh were not actually entering Assam.

While we were in Northeast India, heavy rainfall and flash floods began. Realising it would be difficult for us to cross into Bangladesh through the land borders in  Sylhet or Cumilla, we decided to fly all the way to Kolkata. 

In the Bangla-speaking state, we encountered perhaps the highest level of toxicity. It seemed that almost everyone in the city—whether hotel receptionists, street vendors, or taxi drivers—believed that Bangladesh was in a dire state, with minorities being killed indiscriminately. 

Ironically, this was at a time when Bangladesh was facing one of the deadliest floods in recent memory, with many pointing fingers at India for the cause. But people in Kolkata had no knowledge of it. 

The reason was quite understandable: the newspapers and TV channels we found in our hotel focused solely on attacks on minorities in Bangladesh, much of which was actually fake news, and did not mention or utter a single word about the flood.

Needless to say that no tourist wants to get involved in arguments with locals. Despite repetitively facing attacking comments or hostile behaviour from some people in Kolkata, we mostly remained silent.

One waiter at the Indian Coffee House on College Street went so far as to say, "You should be ashamed that you're having fun in Kolkata while minorities are being killed by the hundreds in your own country." 

We didn't respond to him either, because the guilt we felt was undeniable. 

Here we were, in a foreign land enjoying ourselves, while millions of our countrymen—regardless of age, gender, or religion—were suffering. 

It didn't matter whether their plight was the result of communal or political violence, or a natural disaster exacerbated by human-induced factors.