Kolkata

As West Bengal moves closer to the 2026 Assembly elections, a surge in religious announcements, symbolic dates and large-scale faith-based events is pushing the state’s political discourse into relatively uncharted territory.

Temple and mosque initiatives, scripture recitations and carefully timed rituals are intensifying communal polarisation in a region long shaped by Partition memories, demographic sensitivities and a fragile tradition of coexistence periodically strained by political mobilisation.

From Murshidabad along the Bangladesh border to Salt Lake, Kolkata’s planned township and seat of power, religious identity has become the loudest language of political outreach. Issues such as employment, migration, inflation and governance are increasingly being overshadowed as rival parties test how far faith-based assertion can be stretched in Bengal’s traditionally distinct electoral culture.

The latest turn was triggered on December 6, the anniversary of the Babri Masjid demolition. On that day, suspended Trinamool Congress MLA Humayun Kabir went ahead with laying the foundation stone for a mosque in Murshidabad’s Rejinagar, describing it as inspired by the original Babri structure. The event was conducted amid heavy security.

Kabir defended the move by arguing that Bengal’s political climate itself had changed. According to him, questions of identity, dignity and religious rights will define the coming election, regardless of whether political actors acknowledge it. Denying the growing role of faith in politics, he said, would amount to misreading ground realities.

Almost simultaneously, BJP leaders in nearby Banjatiya village performed preliminary rituals for a proposed Ram temple, presenting the move as a counter to what they alleged was minority appeasement. Across the state, the BJP has sharpened its cultural messaging, while the ruling TMC moved swiftly to distance itself from Kabir’s initiative.

Trinamool spokesperson Kunal Ghosh reiterated that Bengal’s political tradition does not endorse competitive religious mobilisation. Faith, he said, is a personal matter, while politics must remain inclusive. He warned against turning the state into a testing ground for polarisation strategies imported from elsewhere.

The episode highlighted the balancing act facing the TMC — retaining the support of a minority community that makes up close to 30 per cent of the electorate, while countering signs of erosion in its Hindu voter base amid rising identity-driven politics.

The following day, Kolkata’s Brigade Parade Grounds — the state’s most symbolically charged political venue — hosted a massive Bhagavad Gita recital, billed as hundreds of thousands chanting in unison. Senior BJP leaders and prominent religious figures were present, though organisers maintained that the programme was spiritual, not political. Kabir soon responded by announcing plans for a similar Quran recital in Murshidabad.

Political scientist Maidul Islam described these developments as unprecedented in Bengal’s political history. He said leaders like Kabir and parties such as the BJP and AIMIM appear to be consciously transplanting political idioms from the Hindi heartland. The use of specific dates, religious imagery and mass performances, he noted, was unlikely to be coincidental.

BJP state president Samik Bhattacharya argued that when religious symbolism is used to consolidate one community, others cannot be expected to stay silent. He claimed that what he termed “selective secularism” had long marginalised Hindu sentiments in Bengal’s political narrative, and that this imbalance was now being challenged.

Traditionally, electoral mobilisation in Bengal revolved around class, language and welfare politics, with religion playing a secondary role. Even during earlier communal tensions, mainstream parties largely avoided sustained, competitive displays of religious identity.

Murshidabad, however — a Muslim-majority district with enduring memories of Partition-era displacement — has emerged as the focal point of this new phase, with temple–mosque discourse increasingly dominating everyday political conversation.

The shift is no longer confined to border districts. In Salt Lake, posters have surfaced announcing plans for an Ayodhya-style Ram temple complex that would also include a hospital, school and old-age home. The proposed foundation ceremony has been scheduled for Ram Navami next year, signalling how religious symbolism is now being projected into administrative and urban power centres.

Political analyst Biswanath Chakraborty said the movement of temple–mosque politics from peripheral regions to planned urban spaces suggests strategic intent rather than spontaneous expression. He described it as an effort to normalise religious assertion as a core electoral language.

Marginalised in the state’s political arena, the Congress and the Left have cautioned against repeating history. State Congress chief Subhankar Sarkar warned that competitive communalism has well-documented consequences, recalling the violence that followed the Babri demolition in the 1990s.

Bengal, a border state born out of Partition, has been shaped by refugee influx, demographic shifts and intermittent unrest. While it largely avoided the sustained religious polarisation seen in parts of north India, the underlying scars remain, and analysts say they are now being politically activated.

“When economic pressures dominate everyday life, the sudden rise of mandir–masjid politics points to a deliberate shift in narrative,” said political scientist Subhomoy Moitra.

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With the Assembly elections drawing closer, West Bengal appears poised for a phase of competitive symbolism, where temples and mosques function not merely as sites of worship but as strategic markers in an increasingly polarised political contest. Whether this trajectory becomes permanent or fades under electoral pragmatism could determine not only electoral outcomes, but the future character of Bengal’s political culture itself.