New Delhi: Mohammad Hafizul of Okhla Vihar in southeast Delhi talked confidently, though there was an undertone of nervousness in his speech. “We’ve kept our documents in order, just in case,” he said. Nobody’s asked me if I’m a Bangladeshi, but that’s always a possibility.” And he added, “The resemblance between Bengali-speaking Muslims and many of the undocumented migrants from Bangladesh can sometimes be hard to ignore. The language, the dress, the culture, everything looks similar from afar. If, God forbid, someone genuine doesn’t have documents, then he may be in trouble.”
Delhi Police, on the orders of lieutenant governor VK Saxena, is carrying out checks to identify illegal Bangladeshi immigrants in the city. Amid reports of the identification drive in Kalindi Kunj and Jamia Nagar, in the local neighbourhoods of Shaheen Bagh and Okhla Vihar in Jamia Nagar, Bengali-speaking Muslims who have lived here for decades in wretched jhuggis, surrounded by garbage and dust, share an unspoken sense of uncertainty. In the narrow lanes, the mood was confident, yet cautious. And though most did not report experiences of harassment or confrontation, they were apprehensive about being misidentified as foreigners.
“We have nothing to worry about, but there is a scope for confusion,” said a Bengali-speaking Muslim. Twin sisters Ameena and Sameena almost jointly expressed their concerns: “What troubles us isn’t the similarity between cultures, but rather how people tend to paint all Muslims with the same brush. They don’t note the differences, like how the Burmese that the Rohingya speak and Bengali we speak are completely different languages. While we deeply empathise with those immigrants who fled hardship, we worry about facing intense scrutiny ourselves because people don’t take time to understand these distinctions.”
Ameena, 23, said, “We are born in Delhi and have roots in 24 Parganas district in West Bengal through our mother and Kurigram in Bangladesh through our father. Growing up in Delhi, our Bengali Muslim identity felt natural and uncomplicated. But since the CAA-NRC protests in 2020, life has an underlying anxiety, even though we’ve never faced direct problems.” For her part, Sameena added, “Our community has shown us remarkable kindness, especially during election periods. The local residents, across all faiths, have consistently helped us navigate challenging times.”
At Shaheen Bagh, Mohammad Sabzal Sheikh, 29, was more circumspect. “Everything is mere politics now for everyone,” he said. “Everyone here only wants to live peacefully in full brotherhood with others. I don’t understand why religion or divisions between Hindus and Muslims come into play. They only make things worse for everyone.”
Although not a Bengali speaker, a migrant from Bihar said, “This is a minority-inhabited area, so the communal pressure here is relatively lower. Many of my relatives live in other areas, and while they don’t speak Bengali, they too face a lot of scrutiny.”
Meanwhile, Rohingya Muslims, though somewhat shielded by their recognised refugee status, share the broader community’s anxiety about being wrongfully targeted or deported. A walk through Rohingya settlements in Kalindi Kunj and Jamia Nagar reveals a stark picture of deprivation — makeshift homes dug into depressions, absence of basic amenities like toilets, especially for women, no sanitation or clean drinking water.
“Even with refugee cards, we still feel scared and sceptical,” said a community leader. “Talking about such things is tough right now. The people supporting us have asked us not to make comments.”
A police officer clarified that this was not a blind crackdown on everyone. “So far, we plan only to identify and act against people who are suspected to have a criminal history,” the officer said.
Amid the uncertainty, the Rohingyas struggle to create a future. A 23-year-old mother in Kalindi Kunj said, “I arrived here as a child. Though I don’t have a birth certificate, what pains me most is knowing my children might grow up without a formal identity. It’s a burden no parent wishes to pass on.” She carried on, “We consider ourselves Indian at heart. That feeling sustains us when we struggle with basic necessities like school admissions, food and essential services. We aren’t asking for much—just safety for our children. We support actions against those with criminal histories, but must everyone suffer?”
Meanwhile, a man, who declined to give his name, looked at his children playing around and said, “I’ve lived here for 14 years and God has been kind,” he said. “But I worry about my children. They speak Hindi and consider themselves Indian. They’ve done no harm. If they have a future here, it would be a blessing.” His daughter, Mariyam, unaware of her father’s concerns, confidently declared “I’m Indian” when her father asked her about her nationality and shared what she had learnt so far about India at his request.
Elsewhere, Delhi Police conducted an operation in slums of New Seemapuri on Thursday. “During the operation, the documents of 32 individuals were collected for further verification,” said DCP (Shahdara) Prashant Priya Gautam.
