The Unending Human–Elephant War in North Bengal

SANTANU BASU

An unending conflict continues between humans and elephants across the Dooars region, spanning tea gardens, agricultural lands, and the adjoining localities of Alipurduar and Jalpaiguri districts in North Bengal. In this deeply unequal struggle, elephants often overpower the most vulnerable—poor men and women, tea garden labourers, and marginal farmers who have little means to protect themselves.

As elephant attacks increase across several tea estates, survivors are forced to run from office to office in search of monetary relief, sometimes even to perform the last rites of the deceased. Many closed or defunct tea gardens fail to provide even minimal assistance to bereaved families. For those left behind, life appears bleak, marked by poverty, fear, and the absence of institutional support.

Environmentalists largely agree that driven by hunger and shrinking habitats, elephants increasingly raid forest-edge settlements. These sudden and violent encounters frequently turn fatal. In the Dooars, elephants have lifted people with their trunks and hurled them against trees, poles, or buildings, reducing human bodies to mangled remains. Such attacks, often occurring in the dead of night amid severe winter cold, leave victims little chance to escape or seek help. Repeated incidents of trampling have transformed forest fringes and village outskirts into zones of fear and mourning.

Residents of Bankura district still recall the horrific incident of a wild tusker that shook a tall tree—nearly 15–18 metres high—until it collapsed, smashing the man who had climbed it to escape. The cruelty of such encounters continues to haunt communities across Bengal.

During bitter winter nights, impoverished labourers return home after back-breaking work, bolt their doors, and huddle under thin blankets to survive the cold. Yet even these fragile shelters offer no protection from marauding elephants. Christmas, which should bring peace and celebration, has instead become a season of terror in many tea garden colonies.

Environmentalists and journalists describe these attacks as reprisals by elephants that have lost forests, fodder, and traditional corridors to relentless human expansion. Hungry and enraged, the animals intrude into fragile hamlets of tea garden workers and daily wage earners. Homes are crushed, crops destroyed, and lives lost year after year. Fear spreads silently through the darkness before residents can even comprehend what is happening.

The nights during Christmas were particularly devastating. In Christian-dominated tea garden villages, carols and church bells became symbols of mourning. Celebrations turned into funerals, and families were left grappling with unbearable loss. Survivors now wonder which is more terrifying—the biting winter cold or the silent arrival of elephants at their doors.

On Christmas Eve, Sandhaya Bibi (63) was killed by an elephant while collecting firewood in the Changmari beat of Kumargram. Her body was later sent for post-mortem. That same night, a man named Pabitra was reportedly lifted and killed by an elephant. In Bankkandi village under East Jateshwar Gram Panchayat, Roy (55) lost his life. The elephant then moved to Dhulagaon village, where Juthika Roy was dragged for a considerable distance before being killed.

Forest officials claimed repeated warnings had been issued to villagers against entering forest areas, warnings often ignored due to sheer livelihood compulsions. Elephants also damaged multiple houses and destroyed paddy and potato fields in Gadong, Dangapara, Malsagaon, and Guabarnagore villages. Families of the deceased—Suchitra, widow of Pabitra; Jaba Barman, mother of Juthika; and Nurul Mian, relative of Sandhaya Bibi—continue to grieve with little hope of meaningful relief.

Some residents narrowly escaped death. In Pradhanpara village under Shalkumar-I Gram Panchayat, Ajijen Necha, Reshmi Parvin (18), and Rahem Haq escaped by jumping through a window as elephants entered their house searching for stored grain.

Pradhanpara and neighbouring Munshipara lie within a known elephant corridor near the Jaldhaka and Torsha rivers. Survivors recount waking in freezing darkness to find elephants inside their homes. In Munshipara, elephants broke into Sachindra Roy’s house, destroying walls and consuming stored food. Similar incidents occurred elsewhere, with elephants targeting kitchens, grain stores, and even primary schools for mid-day meals—clear signs of acute food scarcity.

Another tragedy occurred when Shukra Kharia (47) was trampled to death while collecting firewood near Radharani Tea Garden, adjacent to Buxa Tiger Reserve. Her body was found inside the reserve’s core area, making her family ineligible for compensation. Her death echoed a similar tragedy from December 2024, when three people died after entering Jaldapara National Park for fodder.

Meanwhile, rampant illegal activities continue to destroy elephant habitats. Electrocution deaths of elephants due to illegal electric fencing are recurring. Between 2022 and 2025, multiple elephants—male and female—were found dead in Kalchini and surrounding areas due to electrocution or violent encounters. These deaths occurred in regions lying between Jaldapara National Park and Buxa Tiger Reserve, critical biodiversity zones.

The underlying crisis is a severe shortage of fodder in North Bengal’s forests, especially in Jaldapara and river catchment areas of the Torsha and Jaldhaka. Once-rich grasslands have been devastated by floods, erratic rainfall linked to climate change, and lack of government intervention. Over the past decade, no serious effort has been made to restore fodder resources.

In desperation, elephants resort to bizarre behaviour—stealing pressure cookers from forest camps or consuming mosquito nets after breaking into homes. Yet forest officials remain more focused on paperwork—determining whether an incident occurred inside or outside a core area to decide compensation—than addressing the root causes.

Meanwhile, powerful vested interests continue to encroach upon elephant corridors with impunity. Illegal factories, resorts, stone crushers, and swimming pools have mushroomed in protected areas, often with the tacit support of forest officials, land authorities, and local politicians. In Madarihat, a three-storeyed bought-leaf factory has reportedly been built on a known elephant corridor without proper clearance, causing distress to both residents and wildlife.

Similar violations are visible near Gorumara National Park, where construction continues unabated along elephant corridors. Such blatant disregard for forest laws raises a troubling question: is the Dooars’ ecology being sold to the highest bidder?

The paradox is stark. The same officials who dilute forest laws and enable encroachment later appear as saviours before grieving families, offering compensation fixed by the very system that failed them. Until habitat destruction, official collusion, and policy apathy are addressed, the human–elephant conflict in North Bengal will continue to claim lives—both human and animal—with chilling regularity.

(Views are personal. Email: santanub12@rediffmail.com)