The recent images of Jalpaiguri were not scenes from a war zone, but they might as well have been. Bloodied faces, fractured skulls, and shattered vehicles — all in the name of flood relief. The ruling Trinamool Congress (TMC) has crossed every limit of political decency, unleashing its cadre on opposition leaders who dared to help the flood-hit. BJP MP Khagen Murmu was brutally assaulted while distributing relief material. His face battered, skull fractured, and his security personnel injured. The very next day, BJP MLA Manoj Kumar Oraon was attacked in Alipurduar, his vehicle vandalized, and his team assaulted. The state’s descent into lawlessness could not have been more visible. And what did Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee say? In a bizarre defense, she claimed that Murmu’s head injury was due to “his diabetes.” That remark didn’t just trivialize a brutal assault — it mocked the victim and the very notion of justice. For Bengal’s Chief Minister, denial has become official doctrine. Even Prime Minister Narendra Modi was forced to intervene, condemning the attack as “appalling” and reflective of Bengal’s “pathetic law and order situation.” But condemnation alone will not do. Words don’t heal wounds. Tweets don’t restore peace. Bengal’s democracy is bleeding, and the Centre’s silence is beginning to look like helplessness — or worse, political calculation. This violence is no one-off episode. It’s part of a consistent pattern under the TMC regime. From the Sandeshkhali horror, where women were allegedly assaulted under political patronage, to the repeated killings during elections, Bengal’s political culture has been poisoned beyond recognition. Governance has been reduced to vengeance. Institutions that should protect people now protect perpetrators. Across border districts, particularly in North Bengal, fear has become the new normal. Many Hindu families, harassed and threatened, have been forced to leave their ancestral homes and migrate to safer places. When citizens are displaced not by floods but by politics, it signals not governance failure but moral collapse.
The Constitution provides remedies for such breakdowns. Article 355 obligates the Centre to protect states from internal disturbance. Article 356 authorizes President’s Rule when a state government fails to uphold constitutional order. By every measure — lawlessness, collapse of policing, partisan administration — West Bengal meets that definition. In Manipur, when chaos overtook civil administration, the Centre acted. Bengal’s situation today is no less alarming. The flood-hit are being terrorized instead of rescued, opposition MPs are being hospitalized instead of heard, and the police remain passive spectators. If this isn’t a constitutional breakdown, what is? Predictably, Mamata Banerjee will cry “federal overreach” if the Centre intervenes. But federalism is not a license for failure. It is a compact to protect citizens’ rights. A state that repeatedly fails to safeguard its people forfeits its moral and constitutional legitimacy. What’s more disturbing is the Centre’s political hesitation. Why the restraint when an elected MP is assaulted? Why the silence when a Chief Minister justifies violence with medical absurdity? Political compulsions cannot outweigh constitutional duty. India’s federalism was not designed to protect rogue regimes at the expense of citizens’ lives. Let’s be clear: these attacks were not spontaneous public anger. They were organized, deliberate, and carried out with the confidence that the police would look away — and they did. No major arrests, no accountability, no justice. The message from Nabanna is clear: opposition lives don’t matter. West Bengal is reliving its darkest political days — only now, the violence wears a populist smile. Mamata Banerjee came to power promising Ma, Mati, Manush. What she has delivered is Murder, Mayhem, Manipulation. The time for moral posturing is over. The Centre must act — decisively and constitutionally. President’s Rule, even for a limited period, may be the only way to restore order and protect citizens. Bengal’s people deserve safety, not slogans; governance, not gang rule. Enough is enough. Floods should never be stained with blood. If the state cannot protect its citizens, the Republic must. Bengal must be saved — before democracy itself drowns.
