Red flag and tape have tied up capitalism’s showcase

Yet after the initial optimism, Haldia as an industrial hub has failed to galvanise West Bengal. As A J Sen, professor at IIM Kolkata, points out, although there is some dynamism, the government’s fertiliser plant has shut down and as more and more land is being acquired by industry, there is local landlessness.

The sitting CPI(M) MP, Lakhan Seth, leader of the workers’ unions in the companies, insists that Rs 12,500 crore of business is about to come in to Haldia, but admits: ‘‘I can’t speak for the rest of West Bengal.’’

Three decades after it was first commisioned, Haldia’s initial promise has waned. In its crowded Durgachak central market, Tapas Ray and Subhendu Giri, who sell mobile phones and accessories, say that CPI(M) cadres have not really harassed them. So will they vote for the CPI(M)?

‘‘Vote?’’ Giri laughs for a long time. ‘‘Vote? There is only one party in Haldia which everyone serves.’’

Haldia bristles with new construction, yet the sunlit building seems sleepy. Seth says he wants to make Haldia a ‘‘knowledge society’’ and there is a new engineering college, a medical college and an Indo-Australian vocational college. Whether prospective employers will scoop up their students is another matter.

The Haldia Insitute of Technology provides a recognised engineering degree, but most students go on to take the GRE or are employed by Haldia Petrochemicals. ‘‘None of the other blue-chip giants comes to recruit us,’’ says Soumya Banerjee, a student. ‘‘Most of us have to leave Haldia.’’

On the Haldi river, big draught ships pump out raw material to the refineries through huge pipelines. The Haldia skyline is punctured by giant silos throwing out high flames, as crude oil is manufactured through the night. ‘‘Every company here has to accommodate a CPI(M) office,’’ says Ray. ‘‘If you don’t, they won’t let you work.’’

The overpowering, even oppressive control of the CPI(M) on industry here may be the reason why Haldia is not taking off the way it should. Visit the Exide Plant and you’ll find a plush CITU office right next to it. Visit HPCL or IOC, and again you see these offices.

Shramik Bhavan or the CPI(M) central office in Haldia is a massive building, guarded by black-clad commandos in high boots. Inside sit party workers with extensive lists of the phone numbers of every CEO and company board member.

Every job in the workforce is made available through The Party. The Party deducts ‘‘contributions’’ from every worker, even transporters who work on the docks. The Party controls appointments to all educational institutions. The Registrar of the Haldia Institute of Technology, Ashish Lahiri, complete with shabby clothes, red shirt and a Fidel Castro beard, is a member of The Party.

Seth’s wife, Tomalika Ponda, a member of the municipality, is also a member of The Party.

Haldia locals however say that unemployment is growing and there are no jobs because all the industries here are so hi-tech.

‘‘All these industries are only here because the government gives the licences that other states do not,’’ says Prashanto Bera, a schoolteacher.

Sitting in their little telecom store, Ray and Giri say they refuse to join the CPI(M) but have little support. ‘‘We travel, do our business and don’t talk too much. Haldia may be an industrial centre but you can’t talk much if you work here. That’s why it’s not like Mumbai or Delhi.’’