Murshidabad burned for days, however, the silence, the anxiety and the weight of what is next – may last far longer – and cut much deeper. Counting the dead, and not the dying trust, the government here misses the real toll. Welcome to Bengal’s borderland Faultline – Murshidabad. The damage the recent communal flare up left behind will simmer far longer – in fear, in eroded trust. As the debris of gutted houses, broken shutters, looted shops and charred vehicles are cleared and politicians’ issue carefully worded condemnations, the real story is only beginning. The violence here wasn’t an aberration. It was a symptom of deeper fractures the district has grown too accustomed to ignoring. The Bengali-speaking indigenous Muslims in the district have traditionally and historically been a tool for “consolidation of block votes” not only for Mamata Banerjee, but for Congress and the CPM. The reason lies in the population. Borderland Under Strain Murshidabad isn’t just another district; it is a borderland in every sense — geographical, emotional and surely communal. With its porous borders, shared histories, pain of partition and a complex demographic fabric, it has always walked a delicate line between coexistence and conflict. When violence broke out, it was less a surprise than an inevitability waiting to play out for many who understand the context. For years, the region has witnessed rising communal anxieties – often inflamed by rumour, economic marginalisation, religious provocation, vested interest and at times digital disinformation. Local tensions are no longer defused; they’re stored like dry tinder, waiting for a spark and further polarisation. With the state’s chief minister Mamata Banerjee often trying to save her turf through guarding her alleged ‘vote bank’ against the Modi government’s policies, that spark spreads to fire. The speed with which narratives around the violence were created, shaped, and circulated on WhatsApp and Facebook, the strategy to open multiple fronts at multiple locations reflect a worrying trend. The communal tensions are not being amplified here, they are being scripted. In Murshidabad’s case, misinformation spread faster than any official response. By the time the administration arrived, battle lines were already drawn – in people’s minds. The Quiet Divide No One Talks About West Bengal government’s district report published in 2021 states, “According to the 2011 Census, Murshidabad district has a population of 71,03,807 (persons) including 36,27,564 males and 34,76,243 females. The majority of the population belongs to Muslim Community with a population share of 66 per cent followed by Hindu (33.21 per cent).” Experts say the area witnessed a steady demographic shift and deepened a quiet but growing divide within the Muslim community — between Bengali-speaking indigenous Muslims and illegal Bangladeshi migrants. NITI AYOG has reported Murshidabad district as one of the most backward districts in India. National and international labour migration have been continuing for decades. In the absence of proper administrative scrutiny, the region gradually turned into a fertile ground for Jamaat-backed radical activity and later reportedly became a safe haven for the now-banned Popular Front of India (PFI). However, these are not just conjectures but proven facts, as explained in multiple state and central agency reports of investigations into the series of riots over the years, probe into the fake currency curtails and cow smuggling rackets. The silence and the shiver What’s missing most in the aftermath is leadership. Not strongman speeches or long statements on social media, but moral leadership – the kind that can cool tempers and broker understanding was nowhere to be seen. Bengal’s current political discourse is so consumed by polarization that no credible middle voice remains. Every act is quickly assigned a motive for an upcoming election and every silence interpreted as complicity. The ruling party speaks of “conspiracies,” the opposition decries “appeasement” and “targeting,” and the citizen is left navigating truth in a haze of fear . For the victims of repeated communal riots – Lalgola, Beldanga, Jangipur, Shamshergunj, Dhuliyan– returning home no longer feels like going home. Many believe that even if they do return, safety in their own land is no longer guaranteed. The Real Toll Murshidabad’s week-long violence didn’t just destroy property, took lives and displaced hundreds—it also destroyed certainties. Who can speak freely? Who can walk into which neighborhood? Who is suddenly the “other”? These are the questions now haunting ordinary lives –students in schools, the buyers and sellers in the markets, the farmers in the fields and the weavers in their silk factories. Murshidabad is surely quiet again as normalcy limps back. But it is not healed. And if we treat the fire as the story, and not the ash left behind, we will have probably learned nothing.