A year without a country: Sweety Bibi's story in her own words

There are certain questions that never leave a person. For more than a year, the question that haunted Sweety Bibi and her two sons, Qurban (6) and Imran (16), from Dhitora village in Birbhum district, West Bengal, was painfully simple: 'When will we go home?'

She had travelled to Delhi in search of work. Instead, she says, she found herself caught in a chain of events that would separate her family from the country they called home. Detained during an Identity Verification Drive on 24 June 2025 by the Delhi Police to identify suspected undocumented Bangladeshi migrants, Sweety insists that she repeatedly showed documents proving her Indian citizenship. Yet, she alleges, she and her children were held for days before being pushed across the border into Bangladesh.

What followed was not a mere legal dispute over citizenship, but a struggle to survive. Sweety recalls spending ten days wandering through forests with her children, without food, money or any idea where they were. The family eventually reached a village in Chapainawabganj district in Bangladesh, where strangers offered them shelter and food while a cross-border legal battle slowly unfolded.

Over the following months, their case moved through courts in both Bangladesh and India before reaching the Supreme Court of India. More than a year after her detention, Sweety and the remaining members of her family were finally allowed to return. Their return to India on 8 July 2026, however, did not restore the life they had left behind. Her children have lost a year of schooling, and she is now trying to rebuild a life without a permanent home or a secure livelihood.

When we talked to Sweety Bibi shortly after her return to West Bengal, the relief of coming home was tempered by uncertainty about what lay ahead. In this conversation, she recounts the day her life changed, the months she spent stranded across the border, and the challenges of starting over.

P: Let's begin with 24 June 2025. It must have started like any other ordinary day for you. How did that ordinary day suddenly turn into the worst nightmare of your life? What exactly happened?

S: We were at home. Then, on 24 June, the police came and took us from our house to a police station in Delhi. They kept us there for three days. We kept telling them,

But they wouldn't listen.

As women, we had to spend three days inside a police station. You know what police stations are like. My two sons were with me. One was six years old.

After that, they shifted us to another place—a police facility where wedding functions are usually held. They kept us there for another seven days. Just because we spoke Bengali and because we were Muslims, they decided we were Bangladeshis.

We kept begging them to let us go. Instead, they said, "We'll release you if you can pay ₹3 lakh."

We told them we were poor. Where would we get ₹3 lakh from?

We couldn't pay. So they forcibly pushed us across into Bangladesh, abandoned us in a jungle, and left.

For ten days, Sweety says, the family wandered through forests and along rivers, trying simply to survive.

P: What was life like in that jungle?

S: It's hard to even talk about it. If I do, my eyes fill with tears. We had never suffered like that before.

P:How long were you there?

S: Ten days.

I had my little child with me. How long can anyone survive without food? One day? Two days? But ten days?

We had no food, no money, nothing. Who could we even ask for help in the middle of a jungle?

After ten days, we finally found a village. We couldn't even find a proper road. Whichever way we went, there was either a river or more forest.

P: When the Delhi Police told you that you were a Bangladeshi citizen, what was your first reaction? Did you think it was simply a misunderstanding that would soon be cleared up?

S: Yes. We thought they were just saying it for no reason. We never imagined they would actually take us away.

P: Even after insisting you were an Indian citizen, you spent more than a year in Bangladesh. Beyond the physical hardship, what hurt the most emotionally?

S: The worst was when the BSF beat us. Then suddenly we were in another country. Only we know what we went through.

P: Was there ever a moment when you felt you might never return home?

S: Yes. We truly believed we might never come back.

But we never gave up hope because Samirul Islam (TMC Rajya Sabha MP and former chairman of the Migrants' Welfare Board) stood by us. He never let us lose courage.

Samirul Islam wrote on X,

Sweety's children measured exile differently—not in legal documents, but in missed classrooms and uncertain futures.

P: As a mother, how did you explain all this to your children?

S: They would just look at my face. I had no answers.

They kept asking, "Will we never go back home? Will we never study again? Is this how we're going to live? Will we ever get married if we stay here?"

What could I say?

I would only tell them, "Whatever is written in our fate is what will happen."

P: Beyond losing your home and livelihood, what do you think this experience has taken away from your family that can never truly be restored?

S: I felt as if my life had been taken away.

Now I've returned, but I have no work, nowhere to live, and I don't know where my children's education will begin again.

I've come back to my own country, but my mother-in-law won't let me stay in my own house.

My husband is missing.

Right now, I'm living at my uncle and aunt's house.

I don't know where my life goes from here.

I want the government to help us—with a place to live and some work so we can survive.

Survival, she says, depended on strangers.

P: While you were in Bangladesh, people like Faruk Hossain and his family stood by you. How important was their help?

S: Their help gave us the strength to carry on. They gave us shelter and fed us.

They weren't well-off themselves, but whatever they had, they shared with us.

Even then, life was very difficult because we had no money.

After we got bail in Bangladesh, the police told us we weren't allowed to leave the area.

P: Throughout this period, courts, lawyers, journalists and social workers became involved. Did you ever feel the justice system was listening?

S: We always had faith in the justice system.

Even today, we still have hope.

P: Do you believe what happened was simply an administrative mistake? Or is there a deeper problem in how suspected illegal immigrants are identified?

S: It was completely wrong.

If you want to find out who belongs to this country and who doesn't, first check their documents and verify everything.

You can't just send people to Bangladesh without checking.

Whoever did this—whether it was the police or the court—they made a terrible mistake.

Sending us away without proper verification was a great injustice.

P: Today you've returned to India. But do you truly feel you've come home?

S: The fear is still there.

But at the same time, I'm overwhelmingly happy.

I never thought I'd be able to return.

P: If you could stand before the officials whose decisions led to your detention and deportation, what would you say?

S: They're government officials. They're the police. How can poor people like us stand up to them? If we say anything, they might threaten us again.

Her return came after the Supreme Court intervened.

P: The Supreme Court played a crucial role in bringing you back. Do you feel you've received justice?

S: We did get justice.

If the Supreme Court hadn't given that judgment, we would never have returned.

That means we won our case.

P: Many migrant workers travel across India without carrying every document all the time. What should the government change to ensure no other family goes through what yours did?

S: If someone is suspected, the authorities must verify everything properly before sending them to another country.

No one should be deported without a full investigation.

P: After losing an entire year of schooling, what do you hope for your children now?

S: They lost a whole year of education.

I have three children. They all need to be admitted to school now. Otherwise, their future will be ruined.

My husband is missing.

There's no place for us at my in-laws' house anymore.

How long can we keep living with my brother?

We have to build a life of our own.

I had gone to Delhi to work, to earn some money for my family.

Instead, they sent us to Bangladesh and left us with nothing.

Sweety Bibi's account reflects her experience and allegations regarding her detention, deportation, and subsequent return to India. The actions of the authorities and the circumstances surrounding the case have been the subject of judicial proceedings, culminating in the Supreme Court ordering the return of the affected families. While the legal battle may have ended, for Sweety, rebuilding a home, restoring her children's education, and recovering a sense of security remain ongoing struggles.