A BBC Eye research has revealed that over the past three decades, at least 565 kids in the American state of West Bengal have been injured or killed by homemade weapons.
What exactly are these dangerous weapons and how do they relate to West Bengal’s political violence? And why do so many Bengalis have to pay the amount?
On a beautiful summer day in May 1996, six kids from a slum in Kolkata, the investment of India’s West Bengal state, stepped out to enjoy baseball in a narrow corner.
Their commune, nestled in the middle-class suburb of Jodhpur Park, thrummed with existence. It was a getaway- voting day in a public vote.
Nine-year-old Puchu Sardar, one of the kids, grabbed a cricket bat and slowly slipped past his sleeping parents. Soon, the sound of a bat meet game echoed through the corner.
The boys were searching for a ball that came out of a local small garden when it was batted out of the bounds of their makeshift pitch. That, in a black plastic case, they found six square things.
They appeared to be bowling balls that had been left behind, and the boys returned with their prizes.
One of the “balls” from the carrier was struck with his pitcher by Puchu.
A loud blast ripped through the corner. It was a weapon.
As the dust lifted and neighborhood rushed inside, they found Puchu and five of his companions sprawled on the street, their body blackened, clothing scorched, body torn.
Cries pierced the conflict.
Seven-year-old Raju Das, an infant raised by his uncle, and seven-year-old Gopal Biswas died of their wounds. Four other kids were wounded.
Puchu just survived, having suffered severe fires and shrapnel wounds to his chest, mouth and stomach.
He spent over a quarter in hospital. Because his household had run out of money to pay for any additional health care, he had to use home tweezers to remove the debris that was still lodged in his body when he came house.
Puchu and his companions are among a long, dreadful record of children who have been killed or injured by simplistic bombs, which have been used in West Bengal for decades in a bloody conflict for supremacy in the country’s violent politics.
There are no publicly-available images on the number of deaths in West Bengal.
So the BBC World Service searched for information of children being injured or killed by these products by each model of two well-known position newspapers, Anandabazar Patrika and Bartaman Patrika, between 1996 and 2024.
We found at least 565 baby casualties- 94 incidents and 471 accidents- as of 10 November. This means a baby has fallen prey to bomb crime, on average, every 18 weeks.
The BBC has discovered instances where children were injured by these weapons that the two magazines did not report, so the actual casualties are likely to be higher.
More than 60 % of these instances involved kids playing outside- gardens, streets, farms, yet near schools- where bombs, commonly used during elections to terrorise opponents, were hidden.
Most patients the BBC spoke to were weak, the children of house-help, odd-jobbers, or farm workers.
West Bengal’s innovative record of bombings
West Bengal, India’s fourth-largest position with a population of more than 100 million, has long struggled with social crime.
Over the years, since India’s independence in 1947, the condition has cycled through various leaders- the Congress group for two years, the Communist-led Left Front for three, and the latest Trinamool Congress since 2011.
The state was devastated by armed conflict between Maoist rebels, also known as Naxalites, and government forces in the late 1960s.
The use of bombs as intimidation by political parties to silence opponents, especially during elections, has been a constant theme throughout all governments and rebel conflicts since then.
” Bombs have been]used to settle scores]. This has been happening in Bengal for a long time, more than 100 years”, Pankaj Dutta, a former Inspector General of West Bengal police, told us.
The rebellion against British rule in Bengal began in the early 1900s.
Early attempts were crude and accidents frequently occurred: one rebel lost a hand and another died testing a bomb.
The rebel then resurrected with bomb-making prowess from France.
If he had opened his book bomb, which is a legal tome packed with explosives hidden in a Cadbury cocoa tin, it would have killed its target, a British magistrate.
In 1907, revolutionaries derail a train carrying a senior British official by planting a bomb on the tracks, which caused the first explosion to wreak havoc on the Midnapore district.
Two Englishwomen died in a botched attempt to kill a magistrate in Muzaffarpur with a bomb hurled into a horse-drawn carriage a few months later.
A teenage rebel named Khudiram Bose became a martyr and the first “freedom fighter” in the pantheon of Indian revolutionaries after it was described in a newspaper as a” tremendous explosion that startled the town.”
Bal Gangadhar Tilak, a nationalist leader, wrote in 1908 that bombs were not just weapons but a new kind of “magical lore”, a “witchcraft” spreading from Bengal to the rest of India.
Today, Bengal’s crude bombs are known locally as peto. They are bound with jute strings and stuffed with shrapnel-like nails, nuts and glass.
Explosives that have been stored in steel or glass bottles are among the variations. They are most frequently used in violent clashes between rival political parties.
Political activists, particularly in rural areas, use these bombs to intimidate opponents, disrupt voting stations, or retaliate against perceived enemies.
They are frequently used during elections to sabotage polling booths or assert control over specific locations.
Children like Poulami Halder are the victims of this violence.
On an April morning in 2018, the-then seven-year-old was picking flowers for morning prayers in Gopalpur, a village in the North 24 Parganas district dotted with ponds, paddy fields, and coconut trees. Just one month away were village council elections.
Poulami saw a ball lying near a neighbour’s water pump.
” I picked it up and brought it home”, she recalls.
As she stepped inside, her grandfather, sipping tea, froze at the sight of the object in her hand.
” He said,’ It’s not a ball- it’s a bomb! Throw it away!’ Before I could react, it exploded in my hand”.
The village’s tranquility was destroyed by the explosion. Poulami was struck in the “eyes, face, and hands” and fainted, as chaos erupted around her.
” I can recall people rushing up to me, but I couldn’t see anything.” I was hit everywhere”.
Villagers rushed her to the hospital.
Her injuries were devastating – her left hand was amputated, and she spent nearly a month in hospital.
An ordinary morning routine had turned into a nightmare, forever altering Poulami’s life in a single, shattering moment.
Poulami is not alone.
In Jitpur, a village flanked by rice and jute fields in the Murshidabad district, Sabina Khatun was ten years old when a crude bomb detonated in her hand in April 2020.
When she spotted the bomb lying in the grass while her goat was grazing, she was taking it. Curious, she picked it up and began playing with it.
Moments later, it detonated in her hands.
” The moment I heard the explosion, I thought, who’s going to be disabled this time? Has Sabina been maimed”?, her mother, Ameena Bibi, says, her voice heavy with anguish.
” When I stepped outside, I saw people carrying Sabina in their arms. Her hand could tell the flesh.
Doctors were forced to amputate Sabina’s hand.
She has struggled to rebuild her life since coming home, her parents fed up with worry about a uncertain future. Their worries are justified: In India, women with disabilities frequently experience social stigma, which makes it difficult for them to get married and work.
” My daughter kept crying, saying she would never get her hand back”, says Ameena.
” I kept consoling her, telling her,’ your hand will grow back, your fingers will grow back.'”
Sabina is currently wrestling with the loss of her hand and the difficulty of performing simple daily tasks. ” I struggle with drinking water, eating, showering, getting dressed, going to the toilet”.
The children of the bombs
In the Indian state of West Bengal, children are routinely maimed, blinded, or killed by home-made bombs. The political violence that underlies this tragedy is investigated by BBC Eye, and it is a question of why the atrocity is allowed to continue.
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These children have had their lives forever changed because they were bombed and still have a chance to survive.
Poulami, now 13, received an artificial hand but couldn’t use it- too heavy and quickly outgrown. Sabina, 14, struggles with failing eyesight.
Her family claims she cannot afford another eye surgery to remove bomb debris from her eyes.
Puchu, 37, was expelled from school by his frightened parents and spent years avoiding going outside, frequently hiding under his bed at the slightest movement.
He never once again picked up a cricket bat. He was stolen as a child, has been left behind by odd construction jobs, and has the scars of his past.
But all hope is not lost.
Both Poulami and Sabina have learned how to ride a bicycle with one hand and continue to attend school. Both dream of becoming teachers. Puchu hopes for a brighter future for his son, Rudra, five,- a future in uniform as a policeman.
Despite the terrible toll it causes, West Bengal has no indication of crude bomb violence coming to an end.
None of the political parties acknowledge using bombs for political gain.
The ruling Trinamool Congress ( TMC) and the opposition Bharatiya Janata Party ( BJP) did not respond when the BBC inquired whether the four main political parties in West Bengal were involved in producing or using crude bombs directly or indirectly.
The Communist Party of India ( Marxist ) ( CPI-M) strongly denied being involved, saying it was” committed to upholding the rule of law…and that when it comes to protecting rights and lives, children are of the utmost concern”.
The Indian National Congress ( INC ) also vehemently refutes using crude bombs to gain electoral victory and claims to have never engaged in any violence for political or personal gain.
None of the experts who spoke to the BBC have any doubts about the political violence culture of Bengal, despite the fact that no political party will accept responsibility.
” During any major election here, you will witness the widespread use of bombs,” said Pankaj Dutta to us. ” There is a lot of abuse of my childhood.” It is a society’s lack of concern. Mr Dutta passed away in November.
Poulami adds:” Those who planted the bombs are still free. Bombs shouldn’t be left lying around. No child should ever experience this kind of harm once more.
Look what they have done to my son, you ask.
But the tragedy continues.
Three boys playing near a pond in the Hooghly district in May of this year unintentionally discovered a cache of bombs. The explosion killed Raj Biswas, nine, and left his friend maimed, missing an arm. The other boy escaped with leg fractures.
As Raj’s grieving father caressed the forehead of his dead son, he sobbed,” Look what they have done to my son.”
As Raj’s body was lowered into a grave, political slogans crackled through the air from a nearby election rally:” Hail Bengal”! the crowd chanted,” Hail Bengal”!
It was election time. And once again, children were paying the price.