Opinion: Bengal Has Been A Kettle On The Boil For A While. Violence Is The Price Of Its Ignored Whistle
When a kettle comes to a boil, it lets out a sound — a shrill whistle that grows louder, sharper, more insistent until someone takes notice, turns off the heat, lifts the lid. But what if no one does?
West Bengal today is that kettle. For years, it has simmered with a complex brew of identity politics, economic stagnation, administrative decay, and ideological clashes. The recent surge in political violence, religious polarisation, and law-and-order breakdown is not a sudden phenomenon; it is the steam escaping from a vessel that’s long been under pressure, ignored.
Like steam, unrest doesn’t appear from nowhere — it builds. The rising communal tensions in places like Sandeshkhali, or the flare-ups between rival political groups in rural districts, aren’t isolated sparks. They’re symptoms. And they are linked inextricably to a deeper malaise — a governance model caught between populism and paralysis, between legacy politics and new-age opportunism.
Let’s pull back. Bengal, once the cradle of the Renaissance and revolution, finds itself trapped in a cycle of reactive politics. The ruling regime positions itself as the custodian of secularism and cultural pride, while the Opposition, riding a wave of nationalistic fervour, taps into grievances and perceived cultural erosion. Caught in between are ordinary citizens who want jobs, education, safety — and silence from the kettle.
The analogy deepens. In a kitchen, the whistle of a kettle isn’t just noise — it’s a signal. It says, “Something’s happening here. Pay attention.” But what happens when those in the kitchen wear earplugs? When governance treats symptoms as sabotage, criticism as conspiracy, and protest as provocation?
Take the suppression of dissent. Activists, students, and even journalists who raise questions are branded “anti-development” or “divisive”. The chilling effect is palpable. But it’s not silence that ensures peace. It’s dialogue, reform, and accountability. A sealed kettle doesn’t stop boiling; it explodes.
Less Theatrics, More Therapy
There’s another parallel: the quality of water in the kettle matters too. Bengal’s social fabric has historically been inclusive, layered with rich traditions of syncretism. But in recent years, divisive narratives have polluted that space. Identity is now weaponised — either as a defence of culture or as a call for reclaiming it. When politics invades pujas, processions, and classrooms, the water turns murky. No tea can be brewed from that. Only bitterness.
The solution? First, acknowledgement. Recognise the unrest not as isolated law-and-order issues but as the fallout of long-ignored systemic stress. Second, recalibrate. Bengal needs less theatrics and more therapy. Investment in jobs, education, decentralised decision-making, and transparent law enforcement isn’t glamorous, but it’s grounding.
Lastly, someone must lift the lid. Civil society, Opposition parties, the media, and responsible leaders must push for truth, not just triumph. Silence the kettle not by turning away, but by turning down the heat. Because here’s the thing about pressure cookers and democracies — they both need release valves. Without them, they don’t just fail — they burst.
And when that happens, the spill burns everyone.
The author is a Delhi-based independent contributor to print and online publications.
[Disclaimer: The opinions, beliefs, and views expressed by the various authors and forum participants on this website are personal and do not reflect the opinions, beliefs, and views of ABP Network Pvt. Ltd.]
blog