Citizenship Row: Political Crossfire Over Bengaluru Demolition Victims

The open sky of Bengaluru city was lit by firecrackers as the new year dawned, the air thick with jubilation. In hotels, pubs, and homes, faces glowed with hope; resolutions were made, promises whispered to the future.

Yet beneath this exuberance lay a harsher reality. In the piercing cold, hundreds of people entered the new year without homes, rendered homeless by the state’s indiscriminate and insensitive demolitions, justified in the name of “encroachment”. Since their houses were razed, their lives have been reduced to instruments of political sabre-rattling, with allegations of “infiltration” hurled at them to extract political capital.

They had little left to dream of—only the hope of shelter, and the simple dignity of living without their citizenship being doubted. In Kogilu village, hundreds were pushed into the new year carrying not celebration, but excruciating pain, fear, and a deep sense of hopelessness.

Angel, a final-year LLB student, says she was unable to write her final examination after all her books and her hall ticket were buried under the debris during the demolition. “I was desperate to complete the course so that I could start earning and support my mother,” she says. “Now I don’t know what will happen. I have pleaded with the college authorities to give me another chance to write the exam this month. If they don’t allow it, I may lose an entire year.”

Revenue officials and the Greater Bengaluru Authority have completed verifying the documents of residents whose houses were demolished, following assurances from the government that eligible families would be provided alternative housing. After the demolitions escalated into a political controversy—particularly after Kerala Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan raised the issue and accused the Congress government of replicating the Yogi Adityanath “bulldozer model”—the Karnataka government announced that the evicted families would be allotted 350 sq ft flats in Baiyappanahalli. The government cited a housing scheme announced in the last budget to provide homes for the urban poor.

As the verification survey continues, the BJP has cast aspersions on the antecedents of the residents. Leader of the Opposition R. Ashoka visited the area and interacted with some of the affected families, demanding an NIA inquiry into how the alleged encroachment was “facilitated”. He called for the verification of residents’ citizenship, warning that “Karnataka will become like Bengal in the future”. Rejecting residents’ claims that they had lived in the area for over 25 years, Ashoka asserted that “there were no houses on Google Maps a year ago”. He also described the government’s rehabilitation plan as an act of appeasement.

People working closely with the affected families say there are deliberate attempts to communalise the issue. They allege that some individuals pressured residents to speak in Urdu—a move they describe as clandestine and aimed at portraying them as infiltrators. “They want to parade those who speak Urdu as infiltrators,” said a member of a civil society group.

Nandini, a member of Dudiyuva Janara Vedike, a civil society organisation working in the area, described the campaign as “ruthless and inhuman”. “This is a calculated attempt to communalise the issue. None of those living here are from Bangladesh, nor are they infiltrators,” she said. “They are now surviving in makeshift huts in the biting cold. Many fear moving to rehabilitation camps because they believe—rightly—that once they leave this site, they may receive nothing from the government, let alone the flats that have now been promised.”

Contrary to the BJP’s claims, state government officials said residents had migrated from places such as Anantapur in Andhra Pradesh, and some families had also come from Uttar Pradesh. Others came from different parts of Karnataka. Activists argue that the allegations surfaced only after the government announced a rehabilitation package. “The government has promised to hand over the keys to the flats within a day or two,” said R. Kaleemullah of the Swaraj Abhiyan. “But the BJP wants to derail this process and keep these helpless people perpetually on the streets. That is why the bogey of ‘Bangladeshis’ is being raised.”

Many among the Fakir Muslim community earn their livelihoods as qawwals, performing at births, marriages, and religious rites associated with death. Others sell petty wares such as toys, while some survive by begging. Residents from other communities engage in various forms of daily wage work.

During the survey conducted by the Revenue Department, a majority of those whose houses were demolished are learnt to have produced voter identity cards and Aadhaar cards to establish that they were long-term residents of the area.

“We have all the documents and have submitted them to the authorities. They promised us alternative arrangements,” said Banupriya, a resident of Wasim Layout. “But now some people and groups are making false allegations to deny us shelter. We don’t know what will happen. We have nowhere else to go.”

After the demolitions—allegedly carried out without prior notice—drew national attention and sharp criticism, the Siddaramaiah government moved swiftly, announcing that flats would be provided to those affected. However, the BJP has since taken up the issue, alleging that the residents were infiltrators and going so far as to demand an NIA inquiry to ascertain the antecedents of the inhabitants.

Of the 151 Muslim households residing in the three settlements, 31 Hindu homes were demolished, according to civil society groups. One Christian family was also affected by the drive.

Activists working with the affected families say many residents have produced electricity bills dating back 10 to 12 years, along with other documents, to establish their long-standing presence in the area. But as the controversy has taken on a communal colour, those rendered homeless—now living in makeshift huts amid harsh weather—remain uncertain about what the coming days will bring.

For the families huddled in makeshift shelters, the daily challenge is the cold, the loss of home, and the fear that political one-upmanship may yet deny them even the fragile assurances they have been given.