Who is indigenous in Assam? Reframing the debate beyond lines of hatred

The question of who qualifies as “indigenous” in Assam, locally termed ‘khilonjia’, has remained one of the most contested and emotionally charged debates in the state’s socio-political discourse. This controversy is not just a matter of academic curiosity; it speaks to deep anxieties over identity, land, and belonging. While the United Nations has refrained from adopting an official definition of “indigenous” due to the rich diversity of such communities globally, it offers a broad understanding rooted in self-identification, historical continuity, cultural distinctiveness, and a deep connection to land and natural resources.

In Assam, several communities such as the Bodo, Mising, Karbi, etc are widely acknowledged as indigenous due to their long-standing presence, unique cultures, and connection to the land. However, one community remains at the center of controversy: the people of East Bengal origin, commonly referred to as Miya Muslims. Their position in Assam’s social fabric is complex, often overshadowed by political rhetoric, communal anxieties, and historical misinterpretations.

It is crucial to understand that East Bengal origin people did not arrive from a foreign land as many narratives falsely suggest. Before the Partition of 1947, the concept of India and East Bengal as separate nations did not even exist. East Bengal was very much a part of British India. The migration of people from East Bengal to Assam, particularly during the colonial era, was largely facilitated by British policies aimed at developing agricultural lands in Assam. Many families migrated in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, not as invaders or opportunists, but as part of a larger imperial economic design. Their descendants today are as much a product of India’s colonial history as any other community.

At the same time, it is essential to draw a clear distinction between legal citizens and illegal immigrants. India, like any sovereign nation, has the right and responsibility, to identify and deport individuals who have entered or settled illegally, particularly after the cut-off date set under the Assam Accord. However, this process must be fair, evidence-based, and devoid of communal or ethnic prejudice. It is also worth noting that migration has not only occurred into Assam but out of it as well. Several people of East Bengal origin who once settled in Assam have, over the decades, returned to what is now Bangladesh (formerly East Pakistan), especially during periods of political unrest or economic hardship. This two-way migration further complicates the narrative and calls for a nuanced approach rather than blanket judgments.

Despite their century-long presence and undeniable contributions to Assam’s economy, particularly in agriculture, East Bengal origin people often find themselves socially alienated and politically targeted. While legal recognition of citizenship may grant them the title of “Indian,” many still struggle for emotional and cultural acceptance as “Assamese.” Here lies the tragedy: identity is not only what you legally possess, but what society allows you to claim.

This alienation is exacerbated by the unfortunate reality that a majority of East Bengal origin people are Muslim. In today’s climate of growing islamophobia, religious identity has further complicated their position. Hatred finds new justifications, sometimes cloaked in regional pride, at other times in historical grievances. But at its core, this prejudice stems from fear, not fact. From a humanitarian perspective, we must ask: are we willing to deny dignity and belonging to people simply because they speak a different dialect, pray in a different way, or bear unfamiliar surnames?

Let us not forget that after Partition, millions of our Sikh and Hindu brothers migrated to India from Pakistan. Many of them, despite being newcomers, were accepted with open arms, rightfully so, because they fled violence, or came here out of love and longing for their homeland. Likewise, countless East Bengal origin families chose to stay in India because this was, and is, their home. Their hearts beat for this land, their roots are buried in its soil, and their dreams are shaped by its possibilities.

In this age of heightened polarization, it is tempting to fall back on narrow definitions of identity that divide rather than unite. But being indigenous is not the only measure of belonging. Let us value what unites us more than what sets us apart. The need of the hour is not to contest who is more indigenous, but to embrace a broader, inclusive Indian identity, one that celebrates diversity instead of fearing it.

Assam has always been a land of many tongues, cultures, and communities. Let us uphold that spirit. Let us remember that being Indian is not defined by bloodlines or borders, but by a shared commitment to justice, dignity, and humanity