The past, it appears, is not easily retired—especially when it was forged in crackdowns, confrontations, and the cold discipline of the khaki uniform. For former IPS officer Humayun Kabir, now a candidate of the Trinamool Congress in Murshidabad’s Domkal, the ghosts of his policing years seem less like memory and more like a lingering presence.
Arriving in Murshidabad to stake his claim in the electoral arena, Kabir made an unusual first move. Instead of visiting the party office and plunging into handshakes and slogans, he walked straight into the office of the District Superintendent of Police—seeking protection, not publicity.
“It is best not to take risks,” Kabir said, with the quiet assurance of someone who has seen both sides of power. His reasoning was stark: during his tenure as Superintendent of Police in the district, he had dismantled cattle smuggling rackets, cracked down on the heroin trade, and taken apart organised murder syndicates.
“Naturally, that creates enemies,” he remarked, almost as a matter of fact. “Now, without the uniform or a firearm, caution is only prudent.”
Murshidabad is not new ground for Kabir—it is, in many ways, his old command post. He spent five years here, first as SDPO of Kandi and later as Superintendent of Police, at a time when the district functioned as a single administrative unit.
Back then, authority came with insignia. Today, it must be negotiated through ballots.
His political pivot came in 2021, when he joined the TMC in the presence of Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee. In the Assembly elections that followed, he contested from Debra—his birthplace—and defeated Bharati Ghosh, a fellow former IPS officer fielded by the BJP.
But politics, like policing, rarely stays predictable. This time, Kabir has been redeployed to Domkal, stepping into a constituency left vacant after the death of TMC MLA Jafiqul Islam.
Kabir’s entry into Domkal carries a distinct undertone—part familiarity, part unease. His immediate appeal for security underscores a reality that many politicians seldom articulate—the professional past can cast long, inconvenient shadows.
After meeting the newly appointed Superintendent of Police, Kabir spoke candidly to the media, framing his request not as fear, but foresight. “I have served here for years. Everything is known to me,” he said—words that could equally signal confidence or caution.
Even as he navigates his campaign, Kabir has found himself brushing against political crossfire. Without naming him directly, he dismissed allegations made by veteran Congress leader Adhir Ranjan Chowdhury, who had claimed that Kabir once issued threats during his policing days.
Kabir’s response was controlled, almost clinical. “I have not come here to carry out ‘encounters’,” he said. “I have only fulfilled my duty as a guardian of the law. I did not wear the SP’s uniform to stain my hands with blood.”
In Domkal, the campaign trail is unfolding with an unusual tension—where a former enforcer of the law now seeks its protection, and where authority must transform into accountability.
For Humayun Kabir, this election is more than a political contest. It is a delicate negotiation between who he was and who he must now become—under the watchful gaze of a district that remembers him all too well.
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