The Dark History of the Calcutta Police
Uncover the shocking history of the Calcutta Police and its role in the 1974 torture of Archana Guha during the crackdown on the Naxalite movement. Her brave 22-year legal battle reveals a dark chapter in Kolkata’s fight for justice and accountability.
Ah, the Calcutta Police, bastions of law and order—or so they’d have you believe. Yet, when one scratches beneath the surface of this seemingly unshakable force, a darker, more unsettling history emerges. In the wake of the humongous protests led by junior doctors not long ago, the reshuffling of senior officers—including the ousting of Commissioner Vineet Goel—raised many an eyebrow. But if you think this recent upheaval is shocking, let’s journey back to 1974, when the city of Calcutta (now Kolkata, but still Calcutta in the hearts of its rebels) witnessed an incident that would leave a stain on the police force’s reputation for decades to come.
It was a time when the fiery naxalite movement was gasping its last breaths, having been crushed under the jackboots of the state. The Calcutta Police’s special cell, in its quest to squash the ultra-left rebellion, resorted to tactics so appalling that they’d make your average tyrant blush. In their desperation, they turned to the oldest trick in the book: tormenting the innocent to force the guilty to surrender. And in this grim chapter of history, it was a woman named Archana Guha who, against all odds, had the audacity to stand up against the mighty force that had brutalised her.
Let’s set the scene: It’s the 18th of July, 1974. The witching hour—2 AM. While the city of Calcutta slumbered, the special cell of Lalbazar police stormed the house of one Soumen Guha, a prominent leader of the naxalite movement. When they couldn’t get their hands on Soumen himself (who, quite sensibly, had scarpered), the police did what any upstanding institution of justice would do—they grabbed his wife, Latika, his sister, Archana, and a relative, Gauri Chatterjee. Off they were hauled to Lalbazar, where the dark deeds would begin.
Now, the official line was that these women were only to be questioned—routine stuff, nothing to get worked up about. But routine, it was not. For 27 days, the women were subjected to unthinkable third-degree torture, the kind of horror you’d expect from a Kafka novel. And why? Because the police wanted Soumen to surrender. When their pleas of ignorance fell on deaf ears, the torture intensified.
And let’s not mince words here—this wasn’t just a matter of roughing someone up. These women were violated, raped, and brutalised repeatedly. It was as if the Calcutta Police had decided to abandon any pretence of justice in favour of cruelty and sadism. And after nearly a month of this unimaginable torment, what did they do? They shipped the women off to the Presidency Jail, locking them up under the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA) for nearly three years. Soumen himself was eventually arrested in August, and he too languished in jail under the same Act.
But it was Archana Guha who suffered most grievously. The torture left her paralysed, her body betraying her after the onslaught of violence. When she was finally released on parole in 1976, she was a shadow of her former self—crippled, both physically and mentally. Yet, here’s where the story takes a turn that even the Calcutta Police couldn’t have predicted. Instead of fading into the background, quietly forgotten as yet another victim of state brutality, Archana decided to fight back.
In 1977, after the Left Front government came to power and released political prisoners, the Guha family wasted no time in filing a petition against the police. Thus began one of the longest, most gruelling legal battles in Indian history—a 22-year-long marathon of courtroom drama that would make any soap opera seem pedestrian. Soumen, despite having no legal degree, was allowed by the court to argue on behalf of his sister—a move that was unprecedented in the annals of Indian law.
In 1999, after decades of delays, dodging, and bureaucratic nonsense, two police officers were convicted—former Deputy Commissioner Ranjit Ghosh and a constable. They were sentenced to a mere year in prison. One year! For crimes so heinous that even now, it sends shivers down the spine.
Now, I ask you: what does this say about the Calcutta Police? It’s a tale as old as time, isn’t it? Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. You could almost laugh if it weren’t so bloody tragic. Here we are, decades later, still witnessing reshuffles and reorganisations, still seeing the powerful trying to sweep their dirty deeds under the rug. But every now and then, someone like Archana Guha comes along and reminds us all that sometimes, even the powerless can make a stand.
So, as we watch the current reshuffles in the Calcutta Police with all the amusement of a spectator at a Stand Up comedy show, let’s not forget this dark chapter of our city’s history. Because while the players may change, the game remains the same.
JUSTICE FOR ABHAYA.
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