In Assam, the rising anti-immigrant campaign has become more than politics—it’s seeped into daily life for Bengali-speaking Muslims, leaving many anxious, vulnerable, and unsure of what comes next. Everyday routines are now tinged with fear. Families talk in quieter tones, avoid certain conversations, even avoid leaving home at times. Some worry about whether their homes, documents, or very identity may be questioned. Others fear being targeted by officials under suspicion of being “foreigners” or “infiltrators”.

In recent months, eviction drives from government or forest lands have disproportionately affected communities seen as of “immigrant origin,” many of them Bengali Muslims. People who have lived in Assam for generations sometimes face demands to prove their status—and the burden of proof is not always easy. Property deeds may have been lost; witnesses difficult to track. Beyond legal threats, there’s a deeper toll. Social bonds are strained. Neighbours whisper. Support networks feel fragile. Even children sense the dread: classmates’ families speaking in hushed voices, holidays cancelled, events avoided. The campaign has sharpened communal fault lines, reopening cracks in Assam’s social fabric.

Still, people resist quietly. Some are gathering documents, seeking legal counsel, forging community solidarity. Activists and civil-society groups are stepping in to help those caught in tribunals or caught up in verification exercises. But many feel that these efforts are not enough.

Assam today stands at a crossroads: a state grappling with identity, history, law, and belonging—and the Bengali-speaking Muslims find themselves living on the edge of a campaign that questions their right to simply exist.