When he was growing up, Bikash Das heard whispers from time to time about girls vanishing from his Indian town, Basirhat. After a while, people stopped asking what had happened to them.
“It became something you didn’t talk about,” Mr. Das says.
It wasn’t until two decades ago, when he went away to college and began volunteering with a local nonprofit in Kolkata, that he started to connect the dots behind the disappearances. He learned that many girls who go missing in his flood-prone region are misled with false offers of employment or marriage and end up forced into prostitution or child labor.
Why We Wrote This
Human traffickers prey on desperate women in the vast, vulnerable Sundarbans region. The co-founder of a grassroots organization is fighting for women to reclaim their legal power.
Today, Mr. Das is committed to breaking the silence around the exploitation of girls and young women in and near the Sundarbans, a vast, vulnerable delta shared by eastern India and Bangladesh. In 2016, he helped found the nonprofit Basirhat Initiative for Rural Dedication (BIRD), which is determined to get justice for survivors of trafficking.
Once someone learns about what the women have endured, Mr. Das says, “It becomes impossible to unsee it.”
Familiar patterns
One bright afternoon at BIRD’s offices, the air is filled with energy as a group of women sits in a circle. A woman named Hasina, a trafficking survivor who now volunteers with BIRD, stands at a whiteboard drawing chains and columns in black marker. (Like some of the other women quoted in this article, she declined to have her surname published for privacy reasons.)
“This is how it starts,” Hasina says, gesturing at the first chain in her diagram. “Poverty, migration, promises that aren’t real.”
The other women watch closely, nodding as they begin to see how the lines connect to their own lives. They, too, are survivors who now work closely with BIRD to raise awareness about trafficking and its link to climate change.
In recent years, weather-related displacement has surged in and near the Sundarbans, long known for its mangrove forests and tiger reserves. Cyclones and subsequent saltwater intrusion have destroyed the livelihoods of thousands of families who have relied on farming for generations.
A 2023 study by the Catholic Agency for Overseas Development underscores the depth of the crisis. The survey found that in more than one-third of households, at least one member migrated out of the Sundarbans region in the previous five years because of livelihood loss related to climate. In Bangladesh’s part of the region, 88% of households reported severe disruption from climate-change hazards. In India’s part, that share was 61%.
“Climate-driven migration and the loss of traditional livelihoods have pushed vulnerable families to the brink,” says Paulomi Chakraborty, a facilitator at BIRD. “This has turned the Sundarbans into a growing hot spot for trafficking and exploitation.”
Women’s resilience
Data from the Sundarbans police district paints a stark picture: Nearly 3,700 women and girls were reported missing in 2023 alone, with more than half – over 2,100 – still not located by year’s end. Nearly 3,000 new cases were recorded by mid-2024 – the most recent police figures available.
Behind the dire statistics lie stories of loss and survival.
A young woman named Kajalrekha saw her family’s land in the village of Pathankhali get washed away by Cyclone Aila in 2009. Forced to move to Basirhat, the family struggled to afford housing while Kajalrekha’s father engaged in low-paid day labor.
Then, a job offer came for Kajalrekha, age 14 at the time. It turned out to be a trap.
“When I left my home, we traveled for days in trains and finally reached Mumbai,” Kajalrekha says. “When I realized the situation, everything was out of my hands, even breathing.”
She was rescued when police raided the brothel where she had been forced to work. But returning home wasn’t safe. Stigma, threats, and more violence awaited. Her traffickers “said they would kill me if I ever spoke their names,” she says.
Nevertheless, she reported the traffickers. She says they raped her in retaliation. The local police dismissed her allegations, explaining that “This woman is like that; she faces constant issues because of her character,” Kajalrekha recalls.
Mr. Das knocked on doors to request assistance from local government officials, police, and attorneys – anyone who could help him find evidence against Kajalrekha’s traffickers. With BIRD’s support, Kajalrekha reclaimed her voice and legal power.
“I filed the complaint, and the traffickers were arrested and sent to jail,” she notes. “None of this would have been possible without [Mr. Das’] guidance and encouragement.”
Today, Kajalrekha leads self-help groups for women. She also heads Bijoni, a women’s collective that helps trafficking survivors rebuild their lives, just as BIRD does.
Over the years, BIRD has earned a reputation for vigilance. The organization alerts law enforcement when it hears that a girl has disappeared or is seen boarding a train with an apparent stranger. It also helps minors who were trafficked return to school.
Mr. Das can frequently be found poring over stacks of papers. He checks names, dates, and other details that will help piece together a survivor’s account in preparation for legal hearings against traffickers.
“BIRD has been able to bridge the gap between local communities and the bureaucracy,” says Amrita DasGupta, a researcher at the University of London who has studied BIRD’s work. “[The link between] climate change and trafficking is a rarely discussed issue, but BIRD has brought much-needed focus to it.”
New beginnings
BIRD helped a young woman named Henna transform her life. Like Kajalrekha, Henna came from a farming family. But the family did not own the land it cultivated, and struggled to make ends meet. After Cyclone Aila hit their city, Haldia, the family could not afford to restart farming.
As a bright schoolgirl, Henna dreamed of becoming a model and television star. But she was too young to distinguish between opportunity and danger. “I didn’t know anything beyond my village,” Henna says.
An acquaintance approached Henna’s family with what sounded to her like a golden ticket: a job in Mumbai and contacts in the entertainment industry. When the man failed to persuade Henna’s parents, he began following her outside school, persistently feeding her promises of fame.
One morning, instead of heading to class, Henna walked to the train station with the man. “The rest that followed was a journey I later prayed had never happened,” she says quietly. “I had been trafficked.”
Months later, police rescued Henna and handed her over to BIRD, which provided steady support and counseling. She now leads a team at BIRD, helping other women.
“I know what it feels like to lose everything,” Henna says. “That’s why I want to help others find their way back.”
