Fishermen and crab hunters are mandated to have Matshyojibi Card (fishermen identity card) and BLC (Boat License Certificate) before they venture into the forest. When these government registered fishermen are killed in tiger attacks, their widows are entitled to a total compensation of roughly Rs. 4-5 lakhs from the West Bengal government’s Forest Department, Fisheries Department and the state’s Group Personal Accident Insurance Scheme- provided that the victim hasn’t ventured into the core area (protected area stipulated under the Wildlife Protection Act of 1972). “We also need to have the death certificate explicitly stating ‘tiger victim’ as the cause of death, a police diary entry and an investigation report,” Mridha said.But the entire process is dehumanising and fraught with bureaucratic hurdles. Often the men, lack the fishermen’s IDs or BLCs (Boat License Certificates). Death certificates often inaccurately list “age-related reasons” instead of “tiger attack.” Moreover, women frequently encounter harassment when seeking police entries or investigation reports.“Instead of receiving help, I faced immense mental harassment from the police,” Mridha said with a sigh.Adding to their woes, is the fact that several women are illiterate and are unable to write the necessary applications meeting the concerned officials of the Police and Forest Departments. Ironically despite having their necessary documents, women like Gita still haven’t received their legal compensation.Of the 4.5 million inhabitants of Sunderbans, as per the 2011 census, at least one member of nearly every household is a migrant worker. This raises the question: why didn’t Gita choose to leave the Sundarbans in search of a better life elsewhere? The clarity and foresightedness of her response is striking.“I was terrified to leave my village then,” Gita explained. “After Cyclone Aila in 2009, many migrant workers were cheated out of their wages, so that fear was always present. But, more importantly, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my children behind. My only thought was– if I die, I’ll die with my two sons in my arms. So, I stayed, clinging to them for dear life.”Her sons are now grown men and working in Tamil Nadu. A radiant pride illuminates her face as she speaks of them. The lines of hardship that etched her face during those struggling years have softened, replaced by a sense of tranquillity and the quiet satisfaction of a hard-won victory.
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