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A train from Kolkata is all he recalls, ‘where is Bangladesh?’

A Mumbai court held that voter ID cards are sufficient to prove Indian citizenship to acquit a couple arrested for being “Bangladeshi infiltrators”. But with their papers still with the authorities, they live in fear of another knock on their door.

For 3 years, Rabia and Abbas made many trips to the police station. (Express photo: Prashant Nadkar)

Firmly clasping the handle of her beige bag, her head covered with a light blue dupatta, Rabiakhatun Shaikh, 43, walks back home from Mankhurd Railway Station on a blistering afternoon. Rabia, who had set off from her home around 6.30 am, is back after working as a domestic help in homes in Reay Road, 10 train stations away. A little after she arrives at her 144-sq-ft room, in the Shanti Nagar slum of Mumbai’s grimy eastern suburb of Mankhurd, her husband, Abbas Lalmiya Shaikh, follows. The 48-year-old fisherman is back after another disappointing catch at Vashi creek.

Used as they are to this hardscrabble life, the Shaikhs now have one thing less to worry about. They are relieved that an additional chief metroplitan magistrate recently ruled in their favour and held that they are not “illegal Bangladeshi infiltrators”, as the Mumbai Police had claimed in 2017 while arresting them.

On February 11, while acquitting them of offences under the Passport (Entry into India) Rules, 1950, and the Foreigners Act, 1946, Additional Chief Metropolitan Magistrate A H Kashikar noted that while Aadhaar card, PAN card, driving licence or ration card cannot be termed as proof of citizenship, a valid voter identity card can prove Indian citizenship.

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The court said in its order, “…original Election Cards of accused no. 2 and 3 (Abbas and Rabia) are sufficient to prove their nationality as an Indian. All these documents which are not rebutted by the prosecution are sufficient to show the Indian citizenship of accused persons… It is necessary to mention that the person may lie but the documents will never.”

Recounting the night of March 1, 2017, when the couple were whisked away to the Special Branch office near Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus, about 20 km from their home, Rabia says, “Police came after midnight. When they knocked, we didn’t open. We wondered who it could be. Then they just pushed the door open and entered. There must have been at least four or five policemen and two policewomen. We were just asked to accompany them. We did not even have time to wake our neighbours up, and our son was too young to do anything,” says Rabia, adding, “I had fever that night.”

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Says Abbas, his brows furrowed, “I told them to take me but let my wife be. They didn’t listen. They said both of us had to go.”

Police told the court that they had received secret information of “illegal Bangladeshi infiltrators” living on Reay Road, from where they had arrested Rabiul Mizi who gave “reckless answers” when police questioned him. Police said Rabiul had led them to Abbas and Rabia in Mankhurd. The trial of Rabiul, a co-accused with the couple, was separated after he went absconding while the trial was still pending.

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After Rabia spent nine days at the Byculla women’s prison, and Abbas was held for 10 days at the city’s Arthur Road jail, the couple say, they were released on bail.

“They (police) said we had come from Bangladesh. We don’t even know where that is. Whatever little we have is all here. Agar yeh hamara desh nahin hai toh phir maar hi daalo humko (If this is not our country, then just kill us). Where do we go?” adds Rabia, tearing up.

Both Rabia and Abbas believe that a call made to Bangladesh by a man who often visited their tea shop landed them in trouble. “I knew him only by face. One day he asked to use my phone. I don’t know whom he called. I don’t know anyone in Bangladesh, and I can’t even use this phone properly,” says Abbas.

Gurunath Chowgule, a retired Navy personnel, who has been the couple’s neighbour and friend for 25 years, attests that the couple “only know how to receive calls”.

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Over the last three years, the couple made several trips to Mumbai Police’s Special Branch for recording their attendance. The travel also meant additional expenses — for commuting and eating out — and loss of wages.

“I get Rs 300 for 2 kg of catfish. The catch isn’t good every day, and so I look for odd jobs, collect scrap on the other days. My wife earns Rs 4,000 from doing domestic work. Between the two of us, we hardly make Rs 5,000 a month,” says Abbas, sitting across from his four-year-old grandson Moin, who is playing with thermacol on the floor.

The couple’s two children Mariyam, 24, and Rashid, 17, dropped out of school after Class 6 and 9 respectively. While Mariyam is married and lives in the same slum with her husband and Moin, Rashid waits for odd jobs at construction sites to earn a living.

Pointing to an asbestos sheet next to the door of her house, Rabia says, “Earlier, that sheet would open like a window. We used to run a tea shop from here. At night, we would close it, and Rashid would sleep on the floor.”

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Walking up to a single bed placed against an asbestos wall, she says, “We did not have this earlier, it was given to us by a person whose home I worked at… Everything you see in this room was given to us by someone.”

Talking about his childhood, Abbas says he faintly remembers a train ride from Kolkata to Mumbai with his sister, many years ago, after they were orphaned. They lived on the streets of Mumbai and did odd jobs until they found their way to Mankhurd. Rabia says she grew up in Mumbai’s Cotton Green area and also spent some time in Navi Mumbai’s Sanpada with her sister before she got married to Abbas sometime around 1996.

Vouching for the couple, their neighbour Chowgule says, “They are simple people. I backed them in court too. They aren’t educated and could not understand much.”

While the magistrate’s decision has brought relief to the family, they continue to live in fear. “They are yet to get their documents back from court. Their lawyer’s signature is required to get the papers back, but he has not been keeping well. Once he gets better and signs the papers, we are told, they will get their documents back. But they will be restless until that happens,” says Chowgule.

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And the news on television hasn’t helped either. “We have heard about the CAA and NRC… Now if anybody comes knocking on our door asking for papers, what will we show them?” says Rabia. “What if there is another knock at midnight?”

First uploaded on: 01-03-2020 at 03:25 IST
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