Fear and Flight: Gurugram's Bengali Migrants Uprooted Amid Verification Drive

Under the grey skies of Gurugram’s Sector 49 Bengali Market stands a jhuggi colony.  This small patch of land, once home to over 500 daily wage Bengali workers — both Hindus and Muslims — now stands nearly deserted. 

Over the course of the past 10 days, hundreds of Bengali migrant workers were detained by authorities on suspicion of being illegal immigrants from Bangladesh, as part of an ongoing verification drive locating and deporting foreign nationals.

“Just because we speak Bengali, does that make us Bangladeshi?” asked Sapna, with an innocent smile on her face. A house help and mother of two who had been working in Gurugram for over three years, she is now preparing to leave for Bengal later this week. “What will I do there? How will I earn? There are no housing societies in my village where I can find work. How will I feed my children?”

Each identical one-room residence in Bengali market was marked by a door, a desert cooler wedged into a window, a small washbasin doubling as a multipurpose washing area and cycles parked just outside.

The men were employed as sanitation workers, dog-walkers and caretakers while women as domestic help in bungalows and societies. Families claim they possess valid documentation, including Aadhaar, PAN, ration cards, and voter IDs, still detained by the police.

As fear of the crackdown spread, many workers fled—abandoning their belongings and any hope of returning. In Bengali Market, most doors are now locked. Stray dogs roam the narrow slum lanes, clothes hang stiff in the wind with no one left to take them down, cycles remain chained to bamboo poles, and three-year-old Sakshi wanders alone—her friends all gone.

Only six families remain: some with train tickets booked for Bengal, others simply unable to afford the journey back, waiting for their payments to be cleared.

Sapna narrated how the ordeal began. She claimed that an unmarked van arrived and picked up several men from the colony, confiscating their phones as residents scrambled to locate them, calling up all nearby police stations. The men were released later that day.

Two days later, one of them was detained again while washing cars at a nearby hospital around 6 AM. Sapna, recounting his experience, alleged that the police took him to a basement, beat him for hours, and only then asked for his documents. “They let him go after that,” she said. “He was so badly injured, he could not even walk.”

Sapna’s husband, who worked as a pantry boy in an office, quit his job out of fear of being detained. “We will stay indoors until the day our train leaves,” he said. The cycle he once used to commute now lies idle—its only use, the bell he rings to amuse their six-month-old son.

The police operations were launched after a directive from the Union Home Ministry instructed state governments to formulate a standard operating procedure for deporting a significant number of illegal Bangladeshi and Rohingya migrants.

A July 22 order from the District Magistrate stated, as reported by The Indian Express “… if any illegal foreign national is found living in any state/district, he will be detained and kept in a Special Holding Centre… the police is conducting special search operations for illegal foreign nationals to maintain law and order and peace in district Gurugram, for which Special Holding Centres have been acquired vide letter… dated 18.07.2025 of this office.”

Mukta, who has worked as a cook in housing societies for over a decade and lives in Gurugram with her husband, said she had not slept for nights, “I woke up at the slightest noise.” Every sound now carries weight—it could mean the arrival of the police. “We are living in constant fear. How are Aadhaar cards and PAN cards not proof anymore?” she asked.

She added that the government’s actions seem directed only at the poor. “Why aren't the rich being asked to show their documents?” she questioned. “We left Bengal and came here just to earn a living—just let us do that.”

“We are not wealthy enough to own land documents. Is that our fault?” she asked, calling the crackdown a targeted attack on Muslims. “I am not against the deportation of undocumented Bangladeshis, but there is a process—check the documents, follow the procedure. We have valid papers, but they refuse to even look at them. They go straight to beating the detained."

“I am scared to even talk about this,” she said, visibly shaken as she stood under the humid sun that offered no relief from the turmoil around her. “There is no telling how this could escalate. Tomorrow, they might come and pick me up just for giving this interview.” 

The four facilities where the detained individuals were held were reportedly located at community centres in Badshahpur, Sector 10A, Sector 40, and Sector 1 in Manesar. By Friday, however, all the centres had been vacated, according to a social worker providing relief to the affected migrant workers.

“The authorities are doing this to collect data. This is disenfranchisement—they will likely be removed from the electoral roll,” she claimed, requesting anonymity out of fear of being targeted. She said that the crackdown is deeply anti-poor and appears to be an attempt to target the most vulnerable in society. 

“It is like a game of Russian roulette—they are only truly safe once they reach home in Bengal.”

Hussain was among those picked up by authorities on July 13. He has been doing odd jobs in Gurugram for the past 16 years. After his detention, he said his phone was confiscated, and he was slapped several times while still in the vehicle. “They do not take us straight to the detention centre—they drive us around on a longer route first,” he recalled.

Fortunately, Hussain’s manager reached the site before the police did. “They usually beat you once you reach the location, but I was spared because my manager arrived on time,” he said. “There is no need for violence—they could just ask for our documents.”

Outlook India tried to contact the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Headquarters, for queries regarding the crackdown and whether any Bangladeshi migrants have been found in the verification drive, but did not receive a response. 

However, The Indian Express on Saturday reported that Gurugram DCP (Headquarters), Dr Arpit Jain said, “We have identified 10 Bangladeshis (staying here illegally) from those kept at the holding centres. The deportation process is already underway for seven of them.”

Station House Officer of Sector 50 Police Station, Dharam Bir Singh, said that during the verification drive conducted in Bengali Market, I Block, Samaspur, Ghasola, and Sector 58, no Bangladeshi citizens were found. He added that he was not aware if the Crime Unit had identified anyone.

“We are not bothering any Indian citizen. We will not violate anyone’s fundamental rights,” he said, further stating that the authorities had not asked any Bengali migrant workers to leave Gurugram.

Noor Hassan lives near the Bengali Market. His clinic was vandalized during the communal violence in Nuh, leaving him burdened with lakhs in debt. Despite the setback, he managed to set up a modest tin-walled clinic, where he continued to see patients. But now, he has been evicted by his landlord, who told him bluntly, “We cannot house Bengali Muslims for some time.”

With his daughter’s ongoing college hanging in the balance, Hassan is at a loss for what to do next. The deep lines on his face and the redness in his eyes speak volumes where words fall short. His wife, Ruma Bibi, tears pooling in her eyes and sweat streaming down her forehead, pleaded quietly, “Help us, please help us.”

Aftermath of the Mass Departure

Gurugram, also known as a hub for modern senior living apart from being the “cyber city”, is now experiencing severe disruptions in daily activities, with many essential services brought to a standstill, following the large-scale exit of migrant labourers. 

Smriti Joshi, a working professional residing in AWHO Sispal, lives with a family of seven, including three senior citizens. With her regular house help gone, she is now anxious about how she will manage the household chores. Though she managed to find a temporary replacement, the new help has also indicated she may soon leave to return to Bengal.

Joshi too said that the atmosphere of mistrust is overwhelming. “There is a rule that every house help must undergo police verification. Then what is the point of that verification? Are you saying that your own police verification process is not reliable? Are you questioning the integrity of the entire system? If so, shouldn’t that process be changed in the first place?”

A July 26 notice from her society’s Resident Welfare Association (RWA) mentioned that, “Looking at the deficiency of manpower, the housekeeping and arboriculture services may have disruption for some time,” adding that efforts were being made to stabilise the situation.

Sunil Sharma, RWA president of Palm Gardens in Sector 83, said that due to the supply demand shortage of labour, there has been a spike in the prices demanded by workers who chose to stay behind. “What used to cost ₹5,000 is now being quoted at ₹7,000 or even ₹7,500.”

He also noted a “huge crisis,” pointing out that no one is left to collect garbage from the households.

One of the contracts who works with rag-pickers, said that after the labourers were detained and released, they fled to their native villages. “With the manpower reduced to less than half, people have started throwing garbage on the street. What other option do they have?”

However, for Shabina, who lives in the slum area of I Block, other concerns take a back seat.
A Bengali Muslim working as a house help, her primary worry is her daughter’s education—now in Class 12.

"How can we leave in the middle of her school year?” she asked. "We have all the documents. We are Indian citizens. The government should recognise that."

As Shabina spoke, a truck loomed behind her, stacked high with luggage—briefcases, mattresses, cupboards and desert air coolers piled well beyond its edges. 

The truck was bound for Bengal, carrying the belongings of families forced to leave in a matter of days—too quickly to gather everything, too suddenly to say proper goodbyes. It held possessions of those who left behind their livelihood, their routines and the fragile comforts that once turned bare rooms into homes.