Next day, today, Friday 27, fourteen of hundreds of protesting students from the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) were sent to Tihar Jail after the late night brutal lathi charge by the Delhi police, attacking a student protest and long march aimed to march towards the Ministry of Education yesterday. Protesters have been demanding the resignation of Vice Chancellor (VC) JNU Ms Pandit who had made derogative remarks against Dalits and Blacks recently and also the restoration of the UGC Guidelines of 2026.

On Thursday (February 26), Jawaharlal Nehru University Students’ Union (JNUSU), along with other student organisations, organised a “long march” from the university to the Ministry of Education in Delhi. Students alleged that soon after their march began, Delhi Police lathi-charged them near the main gate of the campus. They said several students were detained and taken to the Kapashera and Sagarpur police stations. Videos and photographs that surfaced on social media showed that many students, including women, were injured in the police action.

The students’ march began around 3 pm from Sabarmati Dhaba inside the campus. Students joined the rally in large numbers, including members of JNUSU, All India Students’ Association (AISA), Students’ Federation of India (SFI), Democratic Students’ Federation (DSF), National Students’ Union of India (NSUI), All India Students’ Federation (AISF) and other student bodies.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming

14 JNU students sent to TIHAR JAIL
the state’s cowardice is on full display. They think iron bars break spirit, they are WRONG
​fight against BJP & Shantishri’s casteist regime will only INTENSIFY#JNU #jnusu pic.twitter.com/qJTC3DamOD

— Anjali (@anjali__27) February 27, 2026

जेएनयू में हज़ारों छात्र जब यूजीसी रेगुलेशन के पक्ष में और जातिवादी वाईस चांसलर की बर्खास्तगी की माँग के साथ शिक्षा मंत्रालय की तरफ़ बढ़े।
तब पूरी सरकार में कंपकंपी मच गई। दिल्ली पुलिस ने छात्रों के हाथ से बाबा साहब भीम राव अंबेडकर की तस्वीर छीन ली, हाथों में अपने… pic.twitter.com/2JyjjTrb8m

— Dhananjay (@SathiDhananjay) February 26, 2026

This protest began amid heavy deployment of security forces, including Delhi Police, across the campus. The main gate was completely barricaded to prevent the students from moving forward.

Before the march started, JNUSU president Aditi Mishra had told The Wire: “Our call today was directed at the Ministry of Education. We are demanding that the UGC Equity Regulations be implemented on the lines of the Rohith Act. We are also demanding the resignation of our Vice-Chancellor, Shantisree Dhulipudi Pandit, over her remark that ‘Blacks and Dalits are permanently drugged with victimhood’. We believe such a statement is unacceptable. We are also asking for the restoration of funds [to JNU and other universities], because continuous financial cuts are weakening public universities and affecting students directly.”

She had then added, “What we are seeing instead is a heavy police security presence. The university has been turned into what feels like a cantonment, with barricades placed every few metres, the Rapid Action Force deployed and water cannons and tear gas kept ready. FIRs are being filed against students simply for protesting.”

Despite the heavy police and security force presence and the main gate of the JNU being sealed off, the students remained firm on continuing their march. Around 4 pm, students moved the barricades placed outside the main gate and attempted to proceed with their march. Soon after this, police began detaining students participating in the march. During the process, scuffles broke out between them and the police.

The allegations of brutality included male persons, accused of masquerading as men in uniform assaulting women with pins and other weapons in gendered violence. Hundreds of police, paramilitary and other personnel were brought in to simply “handle a student’s protest.”

It was the obstruction of free movement by the Delhi Police who blocked and locked the JNU gates that began the altercation and thereafter police repression.

Danish, joint secretary, JNUSU, said, “We called for a peaceful march from JNUSU to the Ministry of Education. However, Delhi Police blocked JNU gates, putting locks on them. Around 500 to 700 policemen were deployed with heavy barricading, lathis, tear gas and water cannons. When students broke the locks and marched, the police launched a brutal lathi charge.

“Many students were hurt. Women students were dragged and their clothes torn. They [police] detained at least fifty of us and took us to Kapashera Police Station. Even now, many students, including me, are injured but have not received any first aid. There were also people in civil dress beating students brutally alongside the police. Students are still protesting at the main gate, and the police continue to beat them.”

Dhananjay, former JNUSU President speaks of this police brutality here

On Sunday, 22 February, a “Samta Rally” was organised on the JNU campus to protest against alleged anti-Dalit remarks made by Vice-Chancellor Shantishree Pandit. At the march, students demanded implementation of the new University Grants Commision (UGC) equity guidelines, and asked for the Vice-Chancellor to resign and issue a public apology for her statements.

However, after that march, tensions escalated and clashes broke out between two student groups. Left student organisations and JNUSU members accused members of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) offshoot, student body Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), of pelting stones during the confrontation.

On Monday (February 23), the university administration registered a case against JNUSU office bearers over the “Samata Rally” and the alleged violence during the previous night’s protest Thereafter, JNUSU announced another march, and that was the one to be held on 26 February.

The Jawaharlal Nehru University Teachers’ Association (JNUTA) also condemned the police action, describing it as brutal use of force against students at the JNU gate.

In a statement issued on today February 26, JNUTA said several students, including women, were injured and many detained, including two JNUSU office bearers. It raised concerns over reports that women detainees were taken to undisclosed locations and alleged that they faced further mistreatment in custody.

JNUTA said the police action appeared to be aimed at preventing students from exercising their democratic right to march to the Ministry of Education, and demanded the immediate release of all detained students, action against the officials involved and the withdrawal of police personnel from the campus gates.

The text of the JNUTA statement issued by Surajit Mazumdar (President) and Meenakshi Sundriyal (Secretary) reads:

“The JNUTA strongly condemns the brutal use of force by the Delhi Police against JNU students and the detention of several of them, including two JNUSU Office bearers. Reports indicate that several students, including women, have been severely injured in the police action at the JNU gate in which even the laws prohibiting male policemen from acting against women were brazenly flouted. The JNUTA is also extremely concerned at the wellbeing of those detained. There are several women among them and they have been taken to unconfirmed locations that are far away from the campus. Reports are also coming of them being subjected to further police beatings while in custody.

The police action today, and they also came armed with weapons, had the sole objective of preventing come what may the students from exercising their democratic right to march to the Ministry of Education. Prohibition of such marches, and then prosecuting those who march, and use of excessive force against them, have become part of the standard routine for the Delhi Police. In the process, it has become an instrument of not law enforcement but of authoritarianism and the curbing of constitutionally guaranteed democratic rights.

The JNUTA knows that the bankrupt JNU Administration led by the VC cannot be expected to discharge its duty as guardian of the students’ interests. After all, it is its own actions that have led to the current situation. The continuing refusal to act against her and even today’s police action, however, raises serious questions about whether her infamous casteist remarks and other actions in fact have the endorsement of the Ministry of Education. Is it that the Ministry did not want to answer the uncomfortable questions it would have had to face from JNU students?

The JNUTA demands immediate release of all the detained students and strict action against the police officials reponsible for transgressing the laws they are themselves bound by while enforcing them. The Police which is still at the campus gates must also leave immediately. We appeal to JNU teachers to remain vigilant and speak up against this violence and onslaught on democracy.”

Just a few days ago former JNUSU President, Dhananjay filed a complaint against the VC with the NCST. This may be read here.

Related:

JNU: Former JNUSU President complains against Vice Chancellor’s casteist & racist remarks

The Double Stage on Campus: Caste, crisis & UGC equity regulations (2026) controversy

UGC Guidelines 2026: AISA Protest at Delhi University followed by sexual abuse allegations amid police presence

The post JNU Students Lathi-charged, Injured, first detained during protest over V-C remarks, UGC Equity guidelines, now Jailed appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Introduction: The Campus as Double Stage

The University Grants Commission, on January 13, 2026, notified the Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, a broad set of rules intended to counter caste discrimination in Indian universities. Within two weeks, the Supreme Court stayed the regulations, observing that they showed “complete vagueness” and might have “dangerous impacts” to “divide society.” In the meantime, and in the weeks that followed, Indian universities, particularly Delhi University, witnessed protests and counter-protests, violence, allegations of assault, cross-FIRs and, subsequently, a month-long ban on all demonstrations. SabrangIndia’s detailed story on the nationwide protests may be read here and here.

This debate goes beyond a simple policy debate. It is a point at which the underlying contradictions of caste in contemporary India have come face-to-face with the national arena. In my previous work, I introduced the concept of “schizophrenic modernity”, a condition in which a public official theatre of constitutional equality coexists with a dynamic social obscenity, wherein the hierarchy of caste is reinscribed through intimate sociability, bodily practices and moments of violence. The UGC controversy makes this schizophrenia explicit.

To gain a full understanding of the stakes, it is imperative to consult two scholars whose work helps to illuminate the underlying structure of this dispute. Anand Teltumbde’s work on the “camouflaged” presence of caste provides a framework for understanding how caste functions within modern institutions as a hidden system of social capital and exclusion, rather than as a visible ritualized hierarchy. Gopal Guru’s work on the scene/obscene dialectic of knowledge production, along with his imperative to theorize from the location of the obscene, supplies the methodological key to centering the Dalit experience in this argument. Together, they enrich and expand my Foucauldian-Gramscian framework, locating it within the particular intellectual traditions of Dalit Studies.

The article uses the framework to provide a thorough argument about the controversy. Part I will evaluate the rules as a scene of extending the constitutional scene into the obscene. Part II will locates the upper-caste reaction as a manifestation of “camouflaged” caste, as well as Gopal Guru’s reading of hegemonic denial. Part III will discuss the role of the Supreme Court as a moment of definitional politics. Part IV will analyse campus violence as a manifestation of obscene eruption, according to Teltumbde’s framework. Part V will evaluate the schizophrenic stance of the state. Part VI will explore Dalit counter-mobilizations as a moment of forcing the obscene back into the scene, according to Guru’s imperative to theorise from the location of the obscene. The conclusion will consider what this controversy tells us about the underlying architecture of caste power.

I. The Regulations: Extending the Scene into the Obscene

The UGC Equity Regulations 2026 have their roots in a specific set of events: a petition to the Supreme Court jointly filed by the mothers of Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi, both of whom took their own lives in the aftermath of alleged caste-based harassment on their respective college campuses. Vemula, a Dalit PhD scholar at the University of Hyderabad, died in 2016; Tadvi, a tribal medical student in Mumbai, died in 2019. Their deaths have been seen as symptomatic of the failure of institutional mechanisms to protect marginalised students.

Statistics shown by the UGC to a parliamentary committee show a 118.4% increase in reported cases of caste-based harassment over five years, from 173 in 2019-20 to 378 in 2023-24. Journalist Anil Chamadia said that this increase “is not merely about numbers; it is directly linked to growing awareness among marginalised students and the protection given to dominant caste ideologies.” When first-generation Dalit students enter universities in greater numbers, the dominant castes may resent their presence, leading to increased harassment.

The regulations created a complex administrative machinery for equity. They mandated that every higher education institution set up an Equal Opportunity Centre (EOC) to monitor policies for the disadvantaged. Equity Committees, mandated to include representatives from Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), Other Backward Classes (OBC), women and persons with disabilities, were tasked with complaints. Institutions were mandated to set up “equity squads” for constant surveillance, establish 24/7 hotlines and ensure time-bound redressal of grievances, committees were to meet within 24 hours of a complaint and submit a report within 15 days. Failure to comply would invite severe punishment, including withdrawal of UGC funding, exclusion from schemes, or suspension of degree programs.

Notably, the regulations introduced protection for the first time for OBCs, besides SC/ST students, faculty and staff. The concept of “caste-based discrimination” in Clause 3(c) was articulated as discrimination “only on the basis of caste or tribe against the members of the Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST) and Other Backwards Classes (OBC).”

Based on the current framework, the regulations can be understood as an effort to operationalize the constitutional ban on caste discrimination as a pervasive social order. While the Constitution bans caste discrimination at the level of abstract jurisprudence, the regulations aimed to create capillary structures—committees, squads, helplines—that would penetrate the intimate spaces of caste discrimination: the classroom, the hostel, the mentor-mentee relationship and social networks. They aimed to make visible the everyday humiliations, exclusions and violence against Dalit students, which the “obscene” had hitherto made invisible.

As a UGC functionary explained, “The regulations aimed to institutionalize anti-discrimination policies rather than have a piecemeal approach and thus provide ‘marginalised students with an official platform to raise their concerns, which was often lacking before.’” This is the role of the scene: to make grievances speakable, visible, and actionable. The obscene, on the other hand, is that which is unspeakable, the casteist remark that is reduced to “just a joke,” the exclusion that is reduced to “personal preference,” the hostility that is reduced to “academic rigor.”

II. The Upper-Caste Backlash: Camouflaged Caste and the Hegemony of Denial

The regulations didn’t just face criticism; they walked into a firestorm. Upper-caste students, faculty and a chorus of social media voices came out swinging almost immediately. Protests erupted at Delhi University, Lucknow University and right outside the UGC office. But if you listen closely to what the protesters are actually saying, something interesting emerges. Their words reveal how privilege dresses itself up as fairness when its back is against the wall. To really understand what’s happening here, we need two thinkers: Anand Teltumbde and his idea of “camouflaged” caste, and Gopal Guru with his insights about who gets to theorise and whose experience counts as real.

Teltumbde: When Caste Puts on a New Suit

In The Persistence of Caste (2010), Teltumbde makes a deceptively simple argument that cuts through a lot of confusion. Caste hasn’t disappeared in modern India; it’s just changed its clothes. It no longer marches around in religious robes, declaring Brahmins superior and Dalits polluted. Instead, it’s dressed itself in the respectable attire of modernity. It speaks the language of merit, efficiency and professionalism, all while quietly reproducing hierarchy through who knows whom, who gets recommended for jobs, who feels comfortable in academic spaces.

This is exactly what we’re seeing in the UGC controversy. The upper-caste protesters aren’t defending traditional caste ideology. You won’t hear them argue that Brahmins are naturally smarter or that untouchability was ordained by the gods. That would be too obvious, too easy to counter. Instead, they’ve wrapped themselves in the language of universalism, due process, and merit. They’re not defending privilege, they’re defending fairness. Or so they claim. This is caste in camouflage, operating through the very discourses that supposedly left it behind.

Teltumbde argues this camouflage isn’t accidental. It’s caste’s survival strategy, its “genius,” he calls it, though he means it darkly. Caste is plastic. It can take any form religious, secular, modern, global while never losing its core purpose: maintaining graded inequality. If you go looking for caste in its traditional avatar, you’ll declare it dead. You’ll miss its vibrant new incarnations entirely.

The protesters who warn of “complete chaos” and insist that “victim can be anyone on campus” aren’t defending old caste. They’re defending its new form as common sense, as the natural order of things, as what any reasonable person would think. They are, in Teltumbde’s framework, caste’s latest incarnation.

Guru: Why the Obscene Matters

Gopal Guru gives us the other lens we need. In The Cracked Mirror (2012), written with Sundar Sarukkai, Guru makes a provocative argument about how knowledge itself is structured by caste. Upper-caste “theorists,” he argues, have historically occupied what he calls the “scene”, the privileged space of abstraction, theory and universal claims. Dalit-Bahujan thinkers, meanwhile, have been confined to the “obscene”, the messy, particular, experiential realm that supposedly isn’t fit for theory. Guru calls for “epistemic humility”, a willingness to theorize from the site of the obscene, to take seriously the knowledge that comes from lived experience of caste.

The UGC controversy plays out this dynamic in real time. The upper-caste protesters occupy the scene. They speak the language of due process, safeguards against false accusations, and the danger of dividing society. Their discourse presents itself as neutral, rational, concerned with everyone’s good. And the Dalit experience that made these regulations necessary in the first place, the 115 suicides, the daily humiliations, the systematic exclusion gets pushed into the obscene. It becomes merely anecdotal, particular and insufficiently theoretical.

When protesters claim that “victim can be anyone,” they’re not just describing reality. They’re prescribing how reality should be seen. They’re demanding that the scene remain blind to the actual direction of caste violence. The universal category of “anyone” erases the particular vulnerability of Dalit students. The scene refuses to see what the obscene knows.

The Hegemony of Denial in Action

Listen to Alokit Tripathi, a DU PhD student who told PTI the rules would create “complete chaos.” His concern? The burden of proof would shift to the accused, with “no safeguards for those wrongly accused.” And then this: “The definition of victim is already predetermined. Victim can be anyone on campus.”

This is Teltumbde’s camouflaged caste, speaking in perfect accent. The historically privileged group positions itself as potential victim. The structural violence documented in the 2007 Thorat Committee report on AIIMS, where Dalit students faced “avoidance, non-cooperation and discouragement” from faculty and peers simply vanishes. The actual power relations on campus, where faculty and administration remain overwhelmingly upper-caste, where informal networks quietly reproduce privilege all of it erased from the frame.

And its Guru’s hegemonic denial too. The universal “anyone” neutralizes the particular. The scene refuses to see.

The Myth That Won’t Die

Then there’s the false complaint narrative. It came up everywhere. Petitioners told the Supreme Court that without a provision penalizing malicious complaints, grievance mechanisms would become weapons. One counsel painted a vivid hypothetical: imagine a fresher who resists ragging from a Scheduled Caste senior. The senior files a false caste discrimination complaint. The fresher, without anticipatory bail under the SC/ST Act, could be imprisoned, his career ending on his “first day, first month and first year.”

As a Feminism in India analysis pointed out, this script is borrowed straight from Men’s Rights Activists. When women get legal protection, men declare the laws will be misused for petty revenge. When Dalits get protection, savarnas shout exactly the same thing. These narratives do something specific: they drag remedial measures from the societal and historical to the personal. They diminish systemic violence by obsessing over hypothetical misuse.

Now, to be clear: no legal mechanism is immune to misuse. But the exclusive focus on this possibility, without a whisper of concern for the actual violence Dalit students face daily, reveals what the narrative is really doing. It positions the upper-caste subject as the true victim, the one most at risk from a system supposedly designed to protect the vulnerable. This is Gramsci’s “common sense” at work. The dominant group’s experience gets naturalized as universal. The subordinate group’s experience becomes questionable, particular and obscene.

The Battle over Naming

The fiercest fight was over words. Clause 3(c) defined caste-based discrimination specifically as discrimination against SC/ST/OBC communities. Petitioners called this “completely exclusive.” It created, they argued, a “hierarchy of protection.” They pointed to Clause 3(e), a broader provision prohibiting discrimination on grounds of “religion, race, caste, gender, place of birth, disability, or any of them.” Why have both? Why was 3(c) necessary if 3(e) already existed?

The answer cuts to the heart of the matter. Clause 3(e) gives you formal equality, discrimination is wrong, period, and whosoever does it to whomever. Clause 3(c) recognizes substantive equality, the understanding that caste violence in India has direction. It flows historically and structurally from dominant castes to oppressed castes. As the Supreme Court observed in the Sukanya Shantha case, the Constitution itself is “the greatest testament against historical injustices done against the marginalised castes.” Substantive equality requires that “the law must endeavour to correct historical injustices.”

To refuse this naming, to insist on a “neutral” definition that ignores historical directionality is to push the actual structure of caste violence into the obscene. It is to demand that the scene remain blind to what it doesn’t want to see. The petitioners’ call for an “inclusionary” definition is, from this perspective, a demand for comfort. A demand that the scene not be forced to confront the asymmetrical reality it obscures.

III. The Supreme Court: Definitional Politics on the Scene

The Supreme Court’s interim stay of the regulations on January 29, 2026, did more than halt a policy. It laid bare what’s really at stake in this battle over the scene and the obscene. The Court’s questions, its concerns, even its well-intentioned interventions, all of them reveal how difficult it is for institutions to see what they’ve trained themselves not to see.

What Troubled the Court

The bench, led by Chief Justice Surya Kant, was genuinely worried. They weren’t wrong to be, regulations with “very sweeping consequences” deserve scrutiny. After 75 years of trying to build a caste-less society, the Chief Justice observed, policy that appeared “regressive” and might “divide society” gave him pause. You can hear the sincere concern in his words: after all this time, after everything we’ve tried, are we moving backwards?

Justice Bagchi focused on Clause 3 (c). Wasn’t it redundant alongside Clause 3(e)? Shouldn’t we measure these definitions against the constitutional vision of Article 15, the promise that the state shall not discriminate against any citizen? There was also worry about ragging, which one counsel described as the most common form of discrimination on campus. Why didn’t the regulations address that?

Then came the question that revealed everything. The Chief Justice asked whether the regulations covered caste-based discrimination “by reserved categories that are better situated than other reserved groups.” When counsel confirmed there was no such protection, the Chief pressed further: “Has anybody examined this aspect?”

Why the Scene Can’t See

From where we’re sitting, with Teltumbde and Guru as our guides, this question is illuminating. Not because it’s wrong to ask, in the abstract, it’s perfectly reasonable. But because of what it reveals about how the scene sees the world?

The question assumes symmetry. It imagines a level playing field where power flows in multiple directions, where a student from a “better situated” reserved category might discriminate against someone from a “lesser situated” one. And yes, theoretically, this could happen. Caste is complicated. Graded inequality means there are hierarchies among oppressed castes too, some OBCs are better positioned than some SCs, some SCs than some STs.

But here’s the thing about forests and trees. To focus on this internal hierarchy while ignoring the fundamental asymmetry between oppressed castes as a whole and the dominant castes that have historically controlled every institution—that’s not nuance. That’s blindness. The question “what about discrimination by reserved categories” sounds sophisticated. It sounds like careful, balanced thinking. But its function is to distract, to make the scene appear complex while actually preserving its refusal to see the main structure of violence.

The Court’s concern about “dividing society” works similarly. It assumes a unity that the regulations would disrupt. But as the Feminism in India analysis put it, “Their remark that the regulations might ‘divide society’ are a stark reminder of how those in privilege view the world around them. The fractures already exist, they have been put in place to sustain those at the top of the food chain.” The regulations didn’t create division. They simply named it. And naming division, for those who benefit from not seeing it, always feels like violence.

Jaising’s Attempt

Senior Advocate Indira Jaising tried to bridge this gap. Appearing for the petitioners in the original Vemula-Tadvi case, the case that had made these regulations necessary in the first place, she argued that the Court couldn’t consider this matter in isolation. There were directions in the Abeda Salim Tadvi proceedings that had to be honoured. The regulations, she insisted, existed “to create an inclusive society.” She tried to show how Clause 3(c) and Clause 3(e) worked together, not against each other. But opposing counsel kept interrupting. The connections she tried to draw kept getting lost.

Jaising reminded the Bench that the 2012 Regulations had been repealed. If the Court stayed the new ones, there would be nothing. A vacuum. The Court heard her and used its powers under Article 142 to direct that the 2012 Regulations continue in force until further orders. A practical solution, perhaps. But also a telling one: better the old framework, however inadequate, than the new one that actually named names.

The Warning

The Chief Justice ended with a warning to the petitioners: don’t turn this “into a political issue.” The instruction itself is revealing. It positions the Court as a neutral arbiter standing above politics, while the petitioners’ mobilization, their insistence that caste violence is real and must be addressed is framed as potentially illegitimate, as dragging law into the muck of politics.

But here’s what this framing misses: the Court’s own observations were deeply political. The question about reverse discrimination. The concern for the general category. The worry about dividing society. These aren’t neutral positions. They’re the scene’s attempt to manage the boundary between what can be seen and what must remain invisible, what can be spoken and what must stay unspeakable. They’re the scene’s way of preserving existing power relations while sincerely believing it’s just being reasonable.

The scene doesn’t see itself as political. That’s its power. It experiences its own perspective as simply how any reasonable person would see things. The obscene, by contrast, is always marked, always particular, always suspect. The Court’s warning not to make it political is, from this perspective, the most political gesture of all. It’s the scene telling the obscene: stay in your place. Let us decide what counts as real.

IV. The Campus: Violence and Its Representation

The confrontation at Delhi University on February 13, 2026 and its aftermath, brought something into sharp focus that the legal arguments had kept at a distance. The campus became a stage where the obscene, the violence that usually stays in the shadows, whispered about in hostels, experienced in everyday humiliations erupted into plain sight. And then, just as quickly, the scene moved to push it back into invisibility.

What Happened at Arts Faculty

The day started as a demonstration in support of the UGC regulations, organized by the All India Forum for Equity and backed by AISA, the left-wing students’ association. But by the time it ended, the Arts Faculty had become a battleground. Members of the ABVP, the RSS-affiliated student organization, were there too. The two sides faced off, and things turned ugly.

A YouTuber who identifies as a Brahmin journalist came forward with a harrowing account. She claimed she was assaulted and subjected to rape threats by what she described as “a mob of nearly 500 people.” According to her, the crowd turned on her after asking about her caste. She recounted: “The girls around me whispered rape threats in my ears just because I am a Brahmin; ‘aaj tu chal, tera nanga parade niklega,’ is what they said.”

But that’s not the only version of events. AISA activists and another journalist on the scene offered a different picture. They said the woman had made casteist remarks, had shoved another woman to the ground, had provoked the crowd. The Delhi Police, as they often do in such situations, registered cross-FIRs at the Maurice Nagar police station. Both sides got to file complaints. Both sides got to be victims. Sections related to molestation, assault and criminal intimidation were invoked. The official record would show that something happened, but not what, or why, or who bore responsibility.

When the Obscene Surfaces

This is exactly the kind of moment Teltumbde writes about in The Persistence of Caste. In his analysis of the Khairlanji massacre, he argues that violence against Dalits in contemporary India isn’t some leftover from a premodern past. It’s a modern phenomenon, the obscene erupting into visibility when the established order faces a genuine challenge.

Think about what happened at the Arts Faculty. The rape threats, whether whispered or shouted. The casteist remarks, whoever initiated them. The physical confrontation. None of this looks like the old spectacles of sovereign power, where kings or landlords publicly punished those who transgressed. This is different. This is clandestine, community-sanctioned violence, emerging in the chaos of a protest, later revealed through competing media narratives and activist accounts. It’s an attempt to violently reassert a crumbling local hegemony to remind certain people of their place.

Teltumbde puts it plainly: “The violence against Dalits is not a relic of the past but a contemporary phenomenon, rooted in the challenge that Dalit assertion poses to the social order. When Dalits refuse to accept their subordinate position—when they own land, seek education, assert their rights—the dominant castes respond with violence to restore the ‘common sense’ of hierarchy.”

This is what the UGC regulations represented: a challenge to the campus’s caste order. And the violence at Arts Faculty regardless of which account you believe, regardless of who struck first was the obscene striking back. It was an attempt to restore common sense, to remind everyone that some things don’t change.

The Ban

Four days later, on February 17, Delhi University imposed a month-long ban on all public meetings, processions and demonstrations. The official reason cited “information received indicating that unrestricted public gatherings… may lead to obstruction of traffic, threats to human life, and disturbance of public peace.” The order prohibited assemblies of five or more people, the shouting of slogans and the carrying of hazardous materials.

The vice-chancellor made a public appeal. He urged teachers and students to “maintain trust in the judicial process.” He emphasised that “social harmony is the greatest thing.”

On the surface, this is reasonable. After violence, a cooling-off period. After confrontation, a return to order. The university administration performs its proper role: neutral arbiter, guardian of peace, defender of harmony.

But as Mithuraj Dhusiya, an associate professor at Hansraj College, pointed out, the ban may be using “traffic concerns as a pretext to curb mobilisations over issues such as appointments… and the recent suspensions of teachers.” In other words, the official scene of administrative order becomes a mechanism for silencing the obscene eruption into visibility. Don’t protest. Don’t gather. Don’t shout. Trust the process. Have faith in the institutions.

The Double Stage

What the campus revealed in these weeks was its nature as a double stage. On the visible scene, everything is proper. The university issues statements. The police file cross-complaints. The vice-chancellor appeals for harmony. The ban is justified by traffic concerns and public safety. The official discourse is one of neutrality, balance, procedural correctness.

But beneath this scene, operating in the shadows, is the obscene of caste violence and its contestation. The whispered rape threats. The casteist remarks shouted in the heat of confrontation. The student organizations mobilizing along caste lines. The informal networks through which ABVP coordinates its response. The everyday humiliations that never make it into police reports. All of this operates off-stage, invisible to the official record, yet determining everything that happens on it.

The university, like the state more broadly, manages the boundary between scene and obscene. It decides what becomes visible and what remains hidden. It frames some things as political and therefore suspect, other things as administrative and therefore neutral. It preserves existing power relations while sincerely believing it’s just keeping the peace.

The obscene erupted at Arts Faculty on February 13. For a moment, it was visible. Then the scene moved quickly to push it back into invisibility. The ban. The appeal for harmony. The trust in the judicial process. All the familiar mechanisms for managing the boundary, for ensuring that what must not be seen stays unseen.

V. The State: Schizophrenia Institutionalized

The ruling BJP’s response to the controversy reveals something deeper than political calculation, though calculation is certainly part of it. What we see is the Indian state caught in a contradiction it cannot resolve, speaking out of both sides of its mouth because it is itself split down the middle. Anand Teltumbde has spent years analysing this condition, and his framework helps us understand what’s really going on.

The State’s Caste Character

In Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva (2018), Teltumbde makes an argument that should be obvious but somehow still needs saying. The Indian state is not some neutral arbiter floating above society, untouched by caste. It is itself constituted by caste relations. Its institutions, its personnel, its everyday practices all are shaped by the caste order. This is why the state can simultaneously enact progressive laws and fail to implement them. This is why it can speak the language of equality while quietly reproducing hierarchy.

The UGC controversy is a perfect illustration. Through the University Grants Commission, the state produced genuinely progressive regulations aimed at protecting Dalit, Tribal, and OBC students from the violence they face on campus. This was the state acting in its constitutional identity, the identity that promises substantive equality, that acknowledges historical injustice, that tries to make things right.

But then the Supreme Court stayed those regulations and the political leadership welcomed the stay. The same state that created the protections now celebrated their suspension. Two voices, coming from the same body. This is not hypocrisy in the simple sense. This is a deeper split—between what the state formally commits to and what it actually is.

The Forward-Backward Dilemma

The Indian Express captured this dilemma well in its reporting. The BJP, over the last decade, has worked hard to expand its base beyond the upper castes that traditionally supported it. Since the 1990s, upper-caste communities in northern, western and central India have preferred the BJP, while OBCs, SCs, and STs tended toward Congress or regional parties. But under Narendra Modi, the party has made serious inroads into these communities, through higher representation in candidate lists and ministerial positions, through appointing Dalits and Tribals to top constitutional posts like President and Vice-President, through linking Hindutva issues to caste optics.

As Seshadri Chari, former editor of the RSS-linked magazine The Organiser, put it: “The BJP’s Ram Temple, Article 370 and other issues were basically an expression of cultural nationalism… However, the Opposition continued to come out with strategies to counter it. The Congress has recently decided to counter the BJP’s Hindutva cultural nationalism by playing on the caste fault line. The BJP has answered this by putting its core agendas within a caste framework.”

This is the context in which the UGC regulations landed. They put the government in a genuine quandary. An ABVP insider noted that even some pro-Hindutva influencers—like author Anand Ranganathan—have been critical of the BJP on this count. “The Congress’s criticism does not matter that much,” the insider said, “but such voices are taken seriously by common middle-class supporters of the BJP and the Sangh.”

The dilemma is real. If the government supports the regulations, it risks alienating the upper-caste base that still forms the core of its support. If it opposes them, it undermines its carefully cultivated image as a party that cares about OBC and Dalit interests. There is no clean solution, only management of the contradiction.

Two Voices, One State

Watch how the state speaks in this controversy. Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan offered what was described as a “blanket assurance”, the regulations would not be misused, and no one would face harassment. This is the constitutional voice, affirming protection, promising fairness, addressing the scene.

But simultaneously, the government welcomed the Supreme Court stay that suspended the regulations. The ABVP national organizing secretary, Ashish Chauhan, explained that the organization had welcomed the stay because “some words were unclear,” adding that “the groups to be protected need protection” while “other groups should not fear any misuse.”

This is the political voice, addressing the obscene. It acknowledges the anxieties simmering among the upper-caste base. It reassures them that their fears are heard. It frames the stay not as a defeat for equality but as a clarification, a fine-tuning, a protection against misuse.

Two voices, speaking from the same state, to different audiences, about the same regulations. They cannot be reconciled because the state itself cannot be reconciled, split between its constitutional identity and its actual embeddedness in caste society. This is what Teltumbde means when he says the state is not above caste but constituted by it. It cannot simply decide to be neutral. It speaks out of both sides of its mouth because it has two mouths.

The Ambedkar Parallel

Outlook India drew a parallel that’s worth sitting with. When B.R. Ambedkar proposed the Hindu Code Bill in parliament, he faced “aggressive resistance” that reflected, in the magazine’s words, “an attempt to preserve a conservative social order rather than uphold constitutional values.” When Jawaharlal Nehru eventually withdrew the bill, the mouthpiece of the Arya Mahila Hitkarini Mahaparishad celebrated it as the “victory of divine forces over demonic forces.”

Then as now, reforms aimed at addressing structural inequality were framed as attacks on tradition. Then as now, they were called divisive, threatening to social harmony. Then as now, the state retreated in the face of upper-caste mobilization.

The parallel is instructive because it shows how little has changed. The specific issues are different—the Hindu Code Bill addressed women’s rights within family law, the UGC regulations address caste discrimination in higher education. But the underlying dynamic is the same. The constitutional promise of equality collides with the social reality of hierarchy. And when that collision happens, the state, constituted as it is by that hierarchy finds ways to manage the collision without resolving it.

Nehru withdrew the bill. The Supreme Court stayed the regulations. Different times, different institutions, same outcome. The state speaks its two voices, and the obscene continues its work, mostly unseen.

VI. Dalit Counter-Mobilisation: Forcing the Obscene into Visibility

Against all of this, the Court’s blindness, the state’s split voice, the violence on campus, the ban on protest, Dalit students, activists and their allies keep organising. They keep forcing the obscene into visibility. This is not just activism. It is, in Guru’s terms, theorizing from below. In Teltumbde’s, it is counter-hegemonic assertion.

Guru: Knowledge from the Obscene

In The Cracked Mirror, Guru makes a claim that cuts deep. Dalit experience is not raw material waiting to be processed by upper-caste theorists into proper knowledge. It is itself a site of knowledge production. The people who have been pushed into the obscene see things that the people on the scene cannot. Not because they’re smarter, but because of where they stand.

“The experience of humiliation is not just an object of analysis but a source of critical insight,” Guru writes. “Those who have been pushed into the obscene have a perspective on the scene that those who occupy it cannot access. Theorizing from the obscene is not a supplement to mainstream theory but a challenge to its very foundations.”

Think about what this means. The mothers’ petition. The Dalit student protests. The work of scholars like Anil Chamadia. These are not just people demanding things. They are producing knowledge. They are refusing to let Dalit experience be dismissed as anecdotal, as merely personal, as insufficiently theoretical. They are insisting that the scene confront what it has worked so hard to exclude.

The Mothers who wouldn’t disappear

The UGC regulations exist because of this struggle. They exist because Radhika Vemula and Abeda Tadvi, mothers of Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi, filed a joint petition in the Supreme Court. They didn’t have to do that. They could have grieved privately, quietly, the way the scene prefers. Instead, they dragged the reality of campus discrimination into the national eyes cape.

Their lawyers submitted a number: 115 students took their own lives between 2004 and 2024. Many of them Dalit. The UGC itself filed an affidavit in October 2023 admitting that caste discrimination against Dalit students was not some “unfounded presumption” but an actual, documented reality.

The mothers’ petition made visible what the obscene had rendered invisible. The suicides. The daily humiliations. The institutional failures that everyone knew about but no one named. The regulations were the state’s response, inadequate, contested, and now stayed, but a response nonetheless. Forced visibility produces results, even if those results are then rolled back.

Refusing to Disappear Again

The Supreme Court stayed the regulations. DU banned protests. The scene did what it always does: tried to push the obscene back into invisibility. But organizations like AISA keep mobilizing. Students keep protesting. They refuse to let the obscene return to comfortable darkness.

Feminism in India put it plainly: “The decision to halt the regulations is just another attempt at denying basic dignity to Dalits and keeping the caste system in place.” The counter-protests are an answer to this. They say: we saw what you tried to hide. We’re not going to un-see it just because you’re uncomfortable.

Teltumbde: Why Mobilisation Matters

Teltumbde, writing about the protests after the Khairlanji massacre, captures what’s at stake in this kind of mobilization. He says the protests weren’t really about getting justice for one family, though that mattered too. They were about something bigger: forcing the state and society to confront the reality of caste violence that the official scene works so hard to deny. They were an attempt to shatter the hegemony of denial, to make the obscene visible.

The same is true here. The mobilizations around the UGC regulations are not just about supporting a particular policy. They’re about the fundamental question of whether caste will be permitted to continue its hidden work, or whether it will be forced into visibility and thereby into contestation.

What the Numbers Mean

Anil Chamadia pointed to something striking: reported discrimination cases went up by 118.4%. The scene might look at this and see a problem, too many complaints, too much disruption. But Chamadia sees it differently. The increase, he says, is “directly linked to growing awareness among marginalised students.”

When Dalit students enter universities in larger numbers. When they refuse to accept humiliation silently. When they organise and protest and demand accountability. The obscene gets forced into visibility. The numbers go up. And then the backlash comes, the violence, the protests bans, and the Supreme Court stays. This is the dynamic Teltumbde describes. Dalit assertion provokes upper-caste violence, which provokes further Dalit mobilization. The boundary between scene and obscene becomes a site of continuous struggle.

The Intellectual Work

None of this happens in a vacuum. The “growing awareness” Chamadia talks about is produced, in part, by the intellectual work of scholars like Guru and Teltumbde themselves. They have given language to experiences that were previously suffered in silence. They have provided theoretical frameworks, like the scene/obscene dialectic that help people understand their situation and act upon it.

This is what Guru means by theorising from the obscene. Not just describing oppression. Producing the conceptual tools for overcoming it. Dalit students now have a vocabulary for naming what they experience. They have legal categories, “caste discrimination,” “hostile environment,” “institutional failure” that were forged through decades of struggle. They have frameworks that help them see that their individual humiliation is not just personal bad luck but structural violence.

The UGC controversy is, in part, a testament to the success of this intellectual project. The backlash is real, the violence is real, the stay is real. But so is the visibility. So is the mobilisation. So is the refusal to disappear.

The obscene keeps erupting. The scene keeps trying to push it back. That struggle—unequal, ongoing, with no guaranteed outcome—is where we are.

VII. Theoretical Synthesis: The Controversy as Exemplar of Caste’s Schizophrenic Modernity

The UGC controversy illustrates every dimension of our theoretical framework, now enriched by the insights of Teltumbde and Guru:

The controversy reveals that caste’s modernity is not defined by its disappearance but by its strategic disaggregation. Power flows by maintaining the split between a disavowing public scene and a vibrant private obscene. The UGC regulations attempted to extend the scene’s reach into the obscene, to make the state’s power felt in the intimate spaces where caste actually lives. The backlash was the obscene defending itself, refusing to be illuminated.

The Supreme Court’s intervention, staying the regulations, questioning their definitional logic suspended the outcome. But the dialectic continues. Every protest, every counter-protest, every legal argument, every editorial, is a skirmish on the boundary between scene and obscene. And as our framework teaches us, that boundary is where power does its most important work.

Conclusion: The Dialectic’s Latest Act

The UGC controversy is not an isolated policy dispute. It never was. It is the latest act in the long drama of caste’s schizophrenic modernity—the permanent, unresolved tension between a constitutional scene that promises equality and a social obscene that quietly, persistently reproduces hierarchy.

The regulations did not emerge from nowhere. They came from a specific genealogy of struggle. The mothers of Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi, who could have grieved in private and instead filed a joint petition in the Supreme Court. The 115 student suicides between 2004 and 2024, many of them Dalit, each one a story the scene preferred not to see. The 118 percent increase in reported discrimination, which the scene reads as disruption but which really measures growing awareness, growing refusal to suffer in silence. The regulations were an attempt to create mechanisms that would penetrate the obscene, that would make visible what the scene had rendered invisible. They were an attempt—flawed, contested, but genuine—to fulfil the constitutional promise of substantive equality.

The backlash revealed the power of the obscene. It was not organized in any formal sense, not announced in advance, not easy to document. That is precisely its strength. Upper-caste students mobilized through informal networks, through what Teltumbde calls “social capital”, the connections that operate off-stage, invisible to the official record. They framed themselves as victims, as the truly vulnerable ones. And they succeeded. They convinced the Supreme Court that regulations designed to protect Dalit students actually threatened “social harmony.” The narrative of false complaints, of reverse discrimination, of the general category as the real victim—this is the hegemony of denial operating at full capacity. This is what Teltumbde means by “camouflaged” caste, what Guru analyses as the scene’s epistemic violence. It does not need to defend hierarchy openly. It only needs to make hierarchy invisible, to make the structures that produce vulnerability disappear, to make the vulnerable look like the powerful.

The state, caught between its constitutional obligations and its political base, did what it always does in such moments. It spoke with two voices. One voice assured the constitutional audience that protections would remain, that no one would be harassed. The other voice, quieter but more decisive, welcomed the judicial stay that rescued the government from its dilemma. Two voices, same state. The schizophrenia is not a bug; it is the feature.

The campus revealed itself as a double stage. On the visible scene, the university administration performed neutrality, issuing statements, filing cross-FIRs, appealing for harmony, banning protests in the name of traffic. Beneath this scene, the obscene did its work: the confrontation at Arts Faculty, the whispered rape threats, the casteist remarks, the informal mobilization along caste lines. And when the obscene erupted into visibility on February 13, the scene moved quickly to push it back. The protest ban was not about traffic. It was about management. It was about re-establishing the boundary.

And throughout, Dalit students, activists, and intellectuals continued the work of forcing the obscene into visibility. They organized, protested, theorised and refused to let the moment pass. This is what Guru calls “theorizing from the obscene”, not supplementing mainstream theory but challenging its foundations. This is what Teltumbde analyses as counter-hegemonic assertion and not just demanding inclusion but shattering the terms of exclusion. It is the work of breaking the double stage.

The Supreme Court will hear the matter again in March 2026. Whatever it decides, the controversy has already revealed something fundamental about the architecture of caste power in contemporary India. It has shown that the boundary between “scene” and “obscene” is not natural. It is political. It is constantly contested, constantly renegotiated. It has shown that the struggle for caste equality is, at its heart, a struggle over visibility. Over what can be seen, what can be spoken, what can be named. Over who gets to define reality.

As long as the schism persists, as long as the official scene disavows what the social obscene reproduces, caste will endure in its schizophrenic modern form. It will adapt, mutate, camouflage itself. It will learn new languages, wear new clothes, inhabit new institutions. But its very adaptability is also its vulnerability. Each time it is forced into visibility, each time the obscene is dragged into the scene, the possibility of transformation opens. Each eruption is also an opportunity.

The project of annihilation, as Ambedkar envisioned it, requires nothing less than the demolition of the double stage. Not just reforming the scene. Not just documenting the obscene. But destroying the architecture that keeps them separate. The UGC controversy is one battle in that long war. Not the first, not the last. But a battle nonetheless.

Teltumbde writes that “caste’s genius lies in its plasticity.” He is right. But plasticity cuts both ways. What can adapt can also be broken. What can mutate can also be killed. Each moment of forced visibility is a wound. The question is whether enough wounds can be inflicted, enough times, in enough places, to bring the whole structure down?

Guru teaches us that this struggle must be waged not only on the streets and in the courts but in the realm of theory itself. Theorising from the obscene, centering Dalit experience, refusing the scene’s abstractions, insisting on the specificity of caste violence is not a supplement to political work. It is political work. It is the work of producing the conceptual tools that make visible what the scene works so hard to hide. This article has attempted to contribute to that project, using the tools of Foucault and Gramsci while remaining grounded in the intellectual traditions of Dalit Studies. The scene/obscene dialectic, enriched by Teltumbde’s analysis of camouflage and Guru’s insistence on theorizing from below, offers a framework for understanding not only this controversy but the broader condition of caste in contemporary India.

The double stage still stands. Its foundations hold, for now. But they are cracking. Every protest, every petition, every act of theorising from below is another crack. The question is not whether the structure will fall—all structures fall, eventually. The question is whether we will be the ones to bring it down, and what we will build in its place.

(The author teaches history at Shivaji College, University of Delhi. He can be reached at skandpriya@shivaji.du.ac.in)

References

Chamadia, Anil. Interview with University World News, 2026.

Feminism in India. “What The 2026 UGC Regulations Revealed About Caste, Merit and Savarna Victimhood.” February 9, 2026.

Guru, Gopal, and Sundar Sarukkai. The Cracked Mirror: An Indian Debate on Experience and Theory. Oxford University Press, 2012.

The Hindu. “As SC stays UGC equity rules, protection to marginalised castes came from a Constitutional promise to end ‘historical oppression’.” January 30, 2026.

Hindustan Times. “Protests, counter-FIRs, now a ban at DU: Campus on the boil over UGC rules against caste discrimination | Explained.” February 16, 2026.

India Today. “Travesty of UGC Campus Rules 2026: They turn a protective shield into a deadly sword.” January 29, 2026.

The Indian Express. “As UGC row simmers, why BJP dilemma over ‘forward vs backward’ has deepened.” February 18, 2026.

Outlook India. “The Socio-Cultural Debate Over the UGC’s Equity Regulations.” February 16, 2026.

Supreme Court Observer. “Supreme Court stays 2026 UGC equity regulations.” January 29, 2026.

Teltumbde, Anand. The Persistence of Caste: The Khairlanji Murders and India’s Hidden Apartheid. Zed Books, 2010.

Teltumbde, Anand. Dalits: Past, Present and Future. Routledge, 2016.

Teltumbde, Anand. Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva. Navayana, 2018.

Thorat Committee Report on AIIMS Discrimination, 2007.

University World News. “New rules aim to tackle campus-based caste discrimination.” January 20, 2026.

University Grants Commission (Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions) Regulations, 2026. The Gazette of India.

Zee News. “Delhi University enforces 30-day curbs on protests after UGC unrest.” February 17, 2026.

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The post The Double Stage on Campus: Caste, crisis & UGC equity regulations (2026) controversy appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Dhananjay, one of the complainants is a former president of the JNU Students’ Union (JNUSU) and the first Dalit student to be elected to the post in nearly two decades in 2024 has filed a detailed complaint with the National Commission for Scheduled Castes (NCSC) on the issue. The second complaint was filed by Suraj Kumar Baudh, founder of Mission Ambedkar, a forum working on spreading B R Ambedkar’s teachings.

This casteist statement by the Vice Chancellor of JNU—even otherwise a controversial person—has led to widespread protests by all students of this iconic university but especially Dalit Bahujan students. Slogans like “Ambedkarwaali Azaadi” have echoed all over the campus.

JNU की VC ने दलितों और Blacks के “victimhood” जैसे नीचे स्तर की बात की, साथ ही साथ UGC रेगुलेशन के ख़िलाफ़ माहौल बनाया।

“अंबेडकर वाली आज़ादी” के नारों के साथ अब पूरा कैंपस VC के इस्तीफ़े की माँग कर रहा है।

ऐसे VC के रहते कैसे कोई बहुजन छात्र विश्विद्यालय में सुरक्षित महसूस… pic.twitter.com/m1iCEwrRjw

— Priyanka Bharti (@priyanka2bharti) February 23, 2026

Thousands marching in JNU chanting Ambedkar’s name against a VC who dismisses lived caste oppression as “Drug addiction”
This is not leadership — this is Manu-smriti in VC robes.
Remove her!
#Sack_Castiest_JNU_VC
pic.twitter.com/TTR7tcHoG4

— Ravi Ratan (@scribe_it) February 23, 2026

The current union of students, JNUSU has also protested the remarks.

In the detailed complaint, while seeking Pandit’s removal as the V-C in his complaint submitted to the NCSC chairperson on Tuesday, Dhananjay – a PhD scholar at JNU – accused the V-C of making statements that “prima facie promote feelings of hatred and ill-will against the people belonging to the Dalit and other marginalised communities,” and sought action under Section 3(1)(u) of the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989.

Dhananjay has argued that the comments – coming from the head of a Central university – had created a “serious detrimental impact” on Dalit students and had “clearly given rise to feelings of hatred and ill-will against students belonging from Dalit and other marginalised communities”.

“The conduct of Santishree D Pandit, being a person holding a responsible academic office, is criminal and reprehensible,” the complaint said, adding that educational institutions “ought to be sanctuaries of inclusivity, enlightenment, and constitutional morality”. Instead, it alleged, her statements had “sown division and inflicted emotional distress upon students and members of the Dalit and marginalised community”.

The detailed complaint may be read here. Dhananjay, in his complaint has also pointed out to the deleterious impact of such statements by the V-C PAndit. The complaint states that, “there have been incidents of harassment on students belonging from the Dalit and marginalised communities. Furthermore, the general atmosphere against the students and people belonging from the Dalit and marginalised communities has become hostile.”

Dhananjay the former President of JNUSU in 2023-24 and a PHD scholar in Arts & Aesthetics has also argued in his complaint that, “the Courts of our country have repeatedly emphasised, that Public Authorities should exercise caution in their speeches and public statement. Needless to mention, Ms. Santishree D. Pandit, has failed to adhere to such directives of the Hon’ble Court. Moreover, as the Vice Chancellor of an university, it was the duty of Ms. Santishree D.Pandit, to ensure a safe and peaceful environment for the students of her university. However, by making the said statement, she has clearly failed to discharge the said duties. It bears mention, that as a result of her statement, students are apprehending threat to their safety and security and are living under an atmosphere of mental agony.”

Besides, the complaint states that the said statement also amounts to hate speech, as they humiliate, incite prejudice and social hostility against a historically marginalised community. The statement promotes feeling of enmity, hatred and ill-will on the basis of caste. Such speech insults the historical struggles faced by the said marginalised community, undermines social harmony and perpetuates systemic discrimination, which the Constitution of India and special legislations such as the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act seek to eradicate.

Reliance was placed in Dhananjay’s complaint upon the judgement of the Supreme Court in the matter titled as Vishal Tiwari vs. Union of India & Ors. [W.P. (Crl.) No.466 of 2025]. Relevant portion of the said order is being given here under:-

“While we are not entertaining the present writ petition, we make it clear that any attempt to spread communal hatred or indulge in hate speech must be dealt with an iron hand. Hate speech cannot be tolerated as it leads to loss of dignity and self-worth of the targeted group members, contributes to disharmony amongst groups, 5 and erodes tolerance and open-mindedness, which is a must for a multi-cultural society committed to the idea of equality. Any attempt to cause alienation or humiliation of the targeted group is a criminal offence and must be dealt with accordingly.”

In conclusion the young student leader states that “the conduct of Ms.Santishree D. Pandit, being a person holding a responsible academic office, is criminal and reprehensible. Educational institutions ought to be sanctuaries of inclusivity, enlightenment, and constitutional morality. Instead, her statements have sown division and inflicted emotional distress upon students and members of the Dalit and marginalised communities. It also bears mention, that till date Vice Chancelor has not issued any statement of apology. This simply bolsters the fact, that the statement given by the Vice Chancellor was a well thought statement, which has been given to create discrimination and to promote feeling of hatred and ill will against the people belonging from Dalit and other marginalised community.”

The complaint invokes sections 196 and 197 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, that are sections related to words and actions that promote feeling of enmity, hatred and ill-will on the basis of caste.”

It is under Article 338 of the Constitution that prescribes that it shall be the duty of the National Commission for Scheduled Castes to investigate and monitor all matters relating to the safeguards provided for the Scheduled Castes under this Constitution, or under any other law for the time being in force, or under any order of the Government, and to evaluate the working of such safeguards that the complaint has been filed.

Investigation and further action against the Vice Chancellor in accordance with the law and Constitution has been sought. The complaint also urges that “appropriate authorities to register a case under the relevant provisions of the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989, including Section 3(1)(u) and recommend stern disciplinary and legal action, including the immediate removal of the said Vice Chancellor from her position, so as to uphold justice and deter such conduct in future.

The second complaint filed by Baudh also raised similar concerns, accusing Pandit of making “demeaning and dismissive” remarks. That complaint said Pandit’s statements suggested that efforts to address caste inequities were merely claims of “victimhood” rather than “legitimate claims for equality, dignity, and constitutional safeguards”.

Baudh has requested NCSC to “take cognizance of the matter and examine whether the remarks promote prejudice, incite hostility or constitute contempt or disrespect towards scheduled caste communities” and “issue a notice seeking detailed explanation from the V-C”.

Earlier, responding to the controversy earlier, Pandit had told PTI that her remarks had been taken out of context. “I am a Bahujan myself, I come from an OBC background,” she had said, adding that she was referring to what she described as “woke” interpretations of history and the creation of “imaginary worlds” around permanent victimhood.

On UGC’s equity regulations, which were stayed by the Supreme Court last month, Pandit had said during the podcast interview that they had been introduced without adequate consultation. “It was done secretly. Many of us who are part of the system didn’t even know what was in it,” she said, calling the regulations unnecessary and constitutionally flawed.

She had also defended the JNU administration’s decision to rusticate five student leaders for allegedly vandalising surveillance equipment at the Ambedkar Library. “They destroyed this property, literally broke it down, sat on top of it, took pictures and they themselves put it on social media as though they have done something great,” she said, adding that the students had been charged under what she described as a “very strong Act,” apparently referring to the Prevention of Damage to Public Property Act, 1984.

The administration, she had said, had shown restraint by debarring the students for two semesters and imposing a fine of Rs 20,000. “It is taxpayers’ money. I am answerable as a Vice-Chancellor to the government, to Parliament, and to the people of India,” she had added.

On Monday, JNUSU leaders were booked on charges, including rioting and criminal conspiracy, after the university filed a complaint with the police in connection to the student protests on Sunday night against Pandit.

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The post JNU: Former JNUSU President complains against Vice Chancellor’s casteist & racist remarks appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The paper has been published by the by the non-profit National Bureau of Economic Research based in Massachusetts. The authors of the paper – Sam Asher, Kritarth Jha, Anjali Adukia, Paul Novosad and Brandon Tan – have observed that while the data analysed in the study dates back to 2011-13, the “neighbourhood patterns described in the paper are likely to be persistent and have emerged over decades of migration and policy.”

According to the observations and findings in this paper, 26% of India’s Muslims live in neighbourhoods that are more than 80% Muslim, while 17% of SCs live in neighbourhoods that are more than 80% SC. Scheduled Caste segregation in cities is just as high as it is in rural areas, and it is even higher for Muslims, the data shows.

The paper also found that government services – like secondary schools, clinics and hospitals, electricity, water, and sewerage – were all “systematically worse” in marginalised neighbourhoods as compared to other localities in the same cities. The paper said that such differences in service access were “statistically significant and substantial”.

Besides, the study has found that children from such segregated neighbourhoods are likely to fare worse than those from non-marginalised localities. “A child growing up in a 100% Muslim neighbourhood can expect to obtain two fewer years of education than a child growing up in a 0% Muslim neighbourhood. Kids living in SC neighbourhoods face a penalty only slightly smaller. The neighbourhood effect explains about half of the urban educational disadvantage of SC and Muslim children,” the paper said.

Related:

Gujarat’s Disturbed Areas Act: Largest Muslim Ghetto Glaring Contrast to Hindu Settlement

The ‘Harijans’ of Bangladesh: Victims of constitutional neglect and social isolation

Gujarat Polls: Juhapura, The Largest Muslim Ghetto In Gujarat, Is A Picture Of Deliberate Neglect

The post SCs, Muslims both live in highly segregated neighbourhoods with poorer public services: International Study appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Methodological Prologue: Theory as Lens, not Template

To be able to think caste within the same analytical field of reference as Michel Foucault and Antonio Gramsci— two intellectual giants who have left an indelible impression upon his generation—whose long shadows loom large over the landscape of modern Europe, demands a first-order methodological clarification. It is an undeniable premise that caste is uniquely South Asian, a totalising social system with a distinct ontology around indigenous cosmologies of purity, pollution and hierarchal interdependency. Its thinking, its historical trajectory and the experience it embodies can be only partially understood through terms drawn from European history such as class or feudalism or racism, as people like Gopal Guru, Sundar Sarukkai and Dalit Studies thinkers have never tired of insisting. To apply these categories would amount to an act of epistemic violence, the imposition of an artificial reality onto a queasy and never quite-fitting architecture that illuminates nothing but dims what appears from Indian soil, reiterating the colonial knowledge systems that sought once to solidify and regulate caste under alien rubrics. Such as it is, the critique of Eurocentrism isn’t merely an afterthought but a disciplinary sensibility tout court.

So, I provide an inversion in this engagement with Foucault and Gramsci. I am not trying to “apply” their theories to the Indian “case” (as if it were a case of universal concern) in order to fit caste into the Procrustean bed of their local historical referents (the clinic, the prison, the European factory or the making of the Italian nation-state). Rather, I seize their essential methodological insights as adaptable analytical heuristics for shedding light on an essentially novel object. Foucault’s dialectic of the scene and the obscene is indispensable if not as an explanation of European épistémès, at least for its sophisticate analytic tool for understanding how power arranges seeing and saying, produces zones of authorized words and tactical silence, articulates a frontier between what is audible and inaudible. And, once again, Gramsci’s idea of hegemony is not used as a theory of European class making but as a dynamic way to grasp the securing of domination through the construction of “common sense” and the combined action between coercion and consent. Within such a machine, theory is no longer a master narrative so much as an array of precision tools. I do this by deploying these instruments to dismantle the historically specific materiality of caste from its sacred roots to its colonial codification and postcolonial mutations making it possible for the specificity of the phenomenon itself to interrogate and remould the theoretical tools. This essay is then a thought experiment of a critical, situated translation. It deploys Foucauldian and Gramscian optics in order to illumine caste’s internal architecture, its historical transmogrification, while insisting that the image at which one arrives is thoroughly, irreducibly Indian and needs also to conjure up its own vocabulary even as it speaks a global language of power. 

Introduction: The Architectonics of Invisibility

One of the most enduring and complex systems of social stratification in the world—India’s caste system (varna-jati)—is found in the Indian subcontinent. Its analysis requires tools that can penetrate not only its economic or political aspects, but its deep entrenchment in the spheres of knowledge production, body and space. Michel Foucault’s conceptually rich dyad of the “scene”, (what is made visible, sayable and governable) and the “obscene” (that structurally figured beyond but which in its beyond-ness constitutes the scene) provides a powerful prism. When coupled with Antonio Gramsci’s concept of hegemony, the means by which ruling groups achieve consent via an ideological “common sense”, this set-up reveals how power functions not just through suppression but through careful organization of social reality itself.

This paper opines that the history of caste has to be considered as a history involving managing (or mismanagement) of this scene/obscene border. The shift from premodern India to modern makes for a seismic change in such tactics of management: from an integral sacral-political scene to a fragmented modern settlement, where the official defacement of caste on real constitutional law and its attendant discourse on the public scene is the very condition for its raucous (albeit often underhand) existence in that social obscene. In it, the dominant scientific and technological discourses on which the ‘normalisation’ of modern society is based cohabits uneasily with remnants of an archaic and pre-modern social universe intricately woven into a powerful hegemonic discourse that systematically normalizes denial akin to what we have called here the hermeneutics of caste. The analysis draws from, among others, works by Nicholas Dirks (2001), Anand Teltumbde (2014) and Gopal Guru (2016) to map this transition showing that contemporary caste should be best understood as a sort of social schizophrenia driven by imaginative acts whereby power perpetuates itself through a convoluted hermetic legitimising act in India.

I. The Integrated Premodern Scene: Inscription, Spectacle and Sacral Hegemony

The caste hierarchy was a relatively coherent and explicit “scene” in the precolonial and early colonial environment. Its effectiveness was based on its thoroughgoing visibility and its cosmological basis. This can be felt clearly through the texts and inscriptions of medieval India.

Case of the Chola Temple Inscriptions and the Smritichandrika: The walls of the temples in Chola period (approx. 9th-13th centuries) are not just structural, but are public records of the social scenario. That act of reciprocation is documented in countless inscriptions which record the details of gifts but also control in great detail the spatial and ritual order: which castes could offer which kinds of gift, how close they might reside to the temple, and what the penal fines would be if they broke faith. At the same time, codified legal digests such as Devanna Bhatta’s 13th-century Smritichandrika continued to systematise dharma for a wide range of varnas and jatis, dictating clothing and ornaments suitable for narrow groups and stipulating edible diets or respectable partners in marriage.

They are performances of sovereign power. The law was not concealed in statute books but carved onto the holiest public edifices. That made the caste system, already a great monument to human pettiness and pride, permanently, monstrously visible. The elaborately clothed body of the Brahmin (instituted with the sacred thread, instringent in particular fabrics) contrasted with the regulated “nakedness” or coarse apparel of those belonging to “lower castes” was a wearable map of social arrangement- status could be read at once on bodies. “Conjugable” was not private, but public, scripture-regulated machinery for the perpetuation of biology and society.

This was an order that was not only maintained through coercion. It was the centre of agrarian economic and ritual life. Writing caste duties on the walls, the ruling powers (the Chola king, Brahmin sabha) attached social status to divine will and royal command. What it did was not to punish, but explain, rationalise and naturalise. It was polished over by embedding caste inside a sanctified “common sense” in which following one’s svadharma was identified with piety, social tranquillity and karmic reward. Consent was produced by the reaffirmation of ritual incorporation and cosmological tale.

An opulent calligraphy of gleaming inscriptions is what this glittering scene silences. The manual, waste-dirty work of temple purification, cleaning, and waste management, labour assigned to the lower (in caste hierarchy) communities, was the necessary but repelled root. There they were a required obscenity, consigned to literal geographical peripheries (the cheri outside the village) in order to keep unsullied, the jatra’s pure centre. The violence required to maintain this order, whenever necessary, was a public spectacle in its own right, a Foucauldian “scene” of sovereign punishment that reaffirmed the parameters of the permissible.

The coherence of this “scene” can be better appreciated, and the premodern character of it more clearly identified, by consideration to a ritual control of everyday practices that makes hierarchy in large measure visible and ever self-evident. The very access to water for instance worked as a micro-theatre of caste power. Shudras and untouchables were forbidden to draw water from a common source that the Savarna castes drank. The prohibition was not just economical or hygienic, it was dramaturgical. The distance at which awaiting castes waited to receive water from above the threshold through a high-caste intermediary enacted hierarchy as embodied choreography. Here, power did its work not by abstract law alone, but through disciplined gestures and spatial distance and the policing of touch. The practice of pollution was practised time and again on the body, making domination a matter of course.

Temple Restrictions of Entry Again, temple entry restrictions circumscribe how the holy solidified the sightedness of the field. As a condensation of the cosmic arena for legitimacy, these were the gatekeepers to those who could and could not come near divinity itself but whose mere presence would cause ritual chaos. Therefore, being kept out of temple space was not just  marginalisation but rather the ontological disqualification from the moral order which organized village life. The untouchable body was constitutively “ob-scene”, that which was vulgar so as to be excluded from the sacred frame, and thus a figure of purity in the visible scene. But this exclusion, counter-intuitively, verified centrality: the system needed what it banished. Carcass removal, tanning and sanitation-labour were materially integral to the agricultural way of life, and that the obscene was not external to power but its hidden basis.

This paradox has the kind of echo that Foucault will say later, that power creates what it seemingly excludes. The untouchable was, then, not simply oppressed but discursively produced as pollutant, essential to the symbolic unity of Brahmanical purity. Visibility and invisibility therefore comprised one and the same machine. Although his labour was required to be concealed in the sacred space of ritual, it was common for punitive violence against him to become hyper-visible. Public flogging, forced parade or head-shaving was used as exemplary scenes; measures which were not so much punishments for the individual violator but white lines re-drawn in the scene for all its observers. Acts of sovereign violence, in this respect, reconfigured ritual order by sporadic eruption into theatrical display.

But coercion alone cannot account for the endurance of this structure. Hegemony in Gramsci’s sense explains how domination hardened into “common sense.” The karmic reading of suffering converted structural inequality into a moral story: One’s birth deserved, one’s duty redemptive. Most importantly, this imagination was not the prerogative solely of the dominant castes. The participation of the subalterns in ritual hierarchies, through service function in festivals, acceding to hereditary occupation or practicing endogamy indicates to what extent voluntary and coercive approaches were complementary. This was not passive belief, but lived practice that was realised through kinship, worship and toil.

At the same time, however, that premodern scene was never perfectly sealed. Bhakti movements in various regions periodically disrupted the ritual hierarchy by emphasising devotional equality and vernacular expression. Literary figures like Ravidas or Nandanar made religious claims that transcended caste lines, briefly disturbing the visibility of the status quo. Even these challenges, however, were frequently absorbed (or re-absorbed), their radical potential domesticated within particularities of tradition. This ability to absorb demonstrates the strength of hegemonic formations: protest could be recognised symbolically without altering the material basis of hierarchy.

Here, the premodern caste order is not merely a system of hardened stratification but a staged totality through which space, body, work, force and belief converged aesthetically. The Foucauldian pairing of scene and obscene demonstrates the need for purity to be premised upon exclusion, as well as how visibility became a mode of discipline, while the Gramscian lens helps us understand that the long half-life was driven by moral internalization and quotidian consent. Together they reveal a system whose stability was founded on portraying hierarchy as both sacred and natural, a portrayal that subsequent historical developments would gradually start to undo, but not without enormous effort.

II. The Colonial Interregnum: Re-Scenography, Biopower and Taxonomic Hegemony

With the beginning of colonial governance, a significant change occurred. The British colonial state, a modern bureaucratic state at work, wanted to know, categorise and govern its subjects, effectively transforming the performance of caste.

Case of the 1901 Census and Risley’s Anthropometry: The Census, especially under Superintendent Herbert Risley, turned into one of the effective colonising projects. Risley tried to confer a “scientific” legitimacy on caste hierarchy through the use of anthropometry (the measuring of nasal indexes, skull shapes and other bodily features) to construct a racial taxonomy of Indian castes. This information was then used to generate all-India rankings for caste status. This was biopolitics in the pure, administrative state. Power worked in the colonial state by treating the Indian as an object to know, measure, and categorize. The caste became a fixed category rather than the fluid groups of jati relations that it had been, as well as an enumerated and pan-Indian taxonomy, a trope of colonial “governmentality” (Dirks 2001). The muddled local logic of purity/pollution was transformed into a clean, bureaucratic chart. This gave rise to a new all-India “scene” for caste: the statistical report, the ethnographic survey, the gazetteer. The ritual body became a racialised or datafied body.

This scene of bureaucracy had far-reaching hegemonic implications. In cataloguing (and ranking) castes so consistently, the Census rendered new identities that groups came to accept even as they fought them. It laid the groundwork for caste-based political organisation, as represented in the Non-Brahmin Manifesto of Madras (1916) or in the demands for separate electorates. The strategy of the colonial state was one of “divide and rule,” but it did so by offering the vocabulary, among the enumerated caste identity, through which political claims could be made. It fragmented older, more local solidarities and forced a re-configuration of the political terrain along these freshly rigidified lines.

In fact, this act of scientific observation ushered in an obscene that was entirely new. The native logic of purity/pollution, the “scene” which could be publicly declared is now called by the colonial “civilising” eye primitive, irrational and obscene to modernity. The colonial state could thus present itself as a modernising referee, underling proving to the world that it was not some backward social order the British had themselves rendered calcified. The “native obscenity” of caste practices became the rationale for the colonial mission, just as the colonial economy frequently solidified caste-based divisions of labour.

Colonial rule did not just “disperse” (de Kiewiet’s word) the prehistoric caste “scene”; it re-staged its appearance through its interventions in western technology of knowledge, and techniques of administration and surveillance. If the previous order was premised on ritual spectacle and cosmological legitimacy, colonial modernity made caste legible as an object of bureaucratic reason. Authority was transformed from the dramatic practice of impurity to its less conspicuous, but more far-reaching, work of sorting and classifying. In Foucauldian terms, there was a substitution of sovereignty for governmentality: the village stage of hierarchy was slowly but never entirely replaced by that of archive, census table and legal code.

And enumeration was central to this transformation. Colonial census, from the end of the 19th century onwards, attempted to freeze caste identities into universal pan-Indian categories. What had been a locally contingent and regionally flexible hierarchy became interpretable to the state through lists, schedules and ethnographic description. This act of naming was not neutral. In forcing the community to map onto certain fixed classificatory grids, the colonial state both reinforced and naturalised caste. The scene was not just spatial and ritual; it had turned statistical. From the village square, visibility moved onto the bureaucratic paper. The hidden ‘obscene’ here was not just secret labour, but the insecurity and indeterminacy of everyday caste relations, just what enumeration aspired to hide.

The law additionally re-fashioned the grammar of hierarchy. Colonial law did not assimilate such norms of Dhar­mashastras to create “Hindu Law” but the principles selectively codified in colonial jurisprudence and statutes, transformed Brahmanical textual traditions into enforceable legal standards. But this juridification introduced an unintended ambivalence. On the one hand, it consolidated some structures of endogamy or patrimonial inheritance and, on the other hand, made possible certain space for contestation. Instead, pursuing cases in court and challenging bureaucratic rulings or attempting legal reform created new sites for subordinated groups to express grievance. Power was less visibly violent, but more extensively inscribed in institutional procedure. Foucauldian discipline supplanted sovereign terror, at the same time as older types of social coercion remained a reality.

Meanwhile, colonial political economy transformed the economic basis of caste. Monetisation, commercialisation of agriculture and a new exposure to labour mobility disrupted hereditary occupations to an extent. Emigration to plantations, railways or cities created scenarios in which ritual oversight was diluted and anonymity expanded. These spaces didn’t eliminate caste, but they broke the hermetic unity of the premodern set. Hierarchy had to be re-made in unfamiliar landscapes, creating new solidarities along with new exclusions. The obscene, once exiled from the village borders, began to seep back in through developing public forms, often in submerged or indirect ways.

Gramscian hegemony likewise underwent mutation. The karmic “common sense” which previously helped to naturalize hierarchy faced rival ideological formations: missionary critiques, liberal ideas of equality, print-mediated reform movements and pre-modern anti-caste intellectual traditions. Cosmology alone could no longer determine consent, it had to be negotiated in the languages of rights, representation and progress. But hegemony did not disappear; it was transformed. Domination groups re-articulated caste privilege through discourses of tradition, community autonomy or social order that translated ritual authority into cultural capital in the colonial public- sphere. What emerged was not rupture but re-arrangement: An older hierarchy learned to speak new idioms.

More importantly, the colonial moment created conditions for a systematic anti-caste politics. Access to education, print circulation and associational life facilitated figures like Jotirao Phule and later B.R. Ambedkar to unveil the hidden underpinning of social order. Their criticisms made visible that which had been structurally hidden for so long, the historical making of caste inequality. In Foucauldian terms, new counter-discourses challenged the regime of truth supporting hierarchy; in Gramscian terms, subaltern groups revolted for moral-intellectual hegemony. The very scene itself became a battleground not one that was divinely settled.

Colonial modernity then should be neither mistaken for sheer continuity nor for simple break. It eclipsed spectacle with surveillance, ritual fixity with bureaucratic classification and karmic inevitability with ideological contest. But that dialectic of inside-outside, the mobile frontier between scene and obscene endured in the new guise. Caste lived by infiltrating modern institutions, even as the very same institutions nurtured the forces that would eventually question its legitimacy. The oneness of the pre-modern theatre was broken, and what followed was a much more complex and unstable stage for caste drama to develop.

III. The Postcolonial Modern: Schizophrenia, Eruptions and the Hegemony of Denial

The founding of the Indian republic was a script most thrillingly re-written of the scene/obscene dialectic. Inspired by liberal democracy and led by a modernising elite, this new nation-state wanted to make a complete break with the past. And India’s public, legal “scene” was dramatically re-scripted. The framework of the Constitution, authored under B.R. Ambedkar, a Dalit jurist deeply critical of caste, effectively banished it as obscene to the political-juridical order. Articles 15, 17 (which destroyed untouchability) and the guarantee of equality before the law erected a new platform that transformed individuals into citizen, rather than caste subject. The reservation policies (Articles 15(4), 16(4)) became a temporary, exceptional instrument in this stage, as corrective historical justice until achieving the final goal of “Join Casteless India”. The rhetoric of secular nationalism and, later, that of neoliberal meritocracy helped create a public sphere in which caste was meant to be sloughed off in the interests of national or consumer identity.

Caste, however, did not vanish. It had strategically migrated from the public-sacral scene to the privatised, affective, and social “obscene.” This obscene is no negative empty but a powerfully busy shadow stage. Endogamy would still be the strongest fortress. As sociologist G. Shah (2002) and others have shown, the “c­onjugable/u­nc­onjugable” binary flourishes in the private domain of family alliances, matrimonial ads, and community networks concealed from the law’s scrutiny. Purity/pollution practices can draw back into the private and daily life, who in principle may enter the kitchen, share a water glass, sit as an equal at a meal. These are not officially recorded, but they are vital to social reproduction. In contemporary institutions, the corporate office, the university, elite social clubs, caste operates as though it’s based on race and class, if by its own ecosystem of social capital and unspoken biases. The Dalit expert may be officially welcome on the corporate stage, but exclusion thrives in the obscene of informal circuits and cultural codes (such as hearing a last name). Anand Teltumbde (2010) calls this the “persistence of caste” in new, “camouflaged” versions in hitherto seemingly-casteless modern sites. Lynchings, social humiliations and caste-based rapes are not vestiges of a pre-modern past. They are modern obscene eruptions, as scholars such as Kalpana Kannabiran contend. They are frequently sparked, as others have also noted, by a perception of Dalits “overstepping” their bounds, owning land, riding horseback, sporting a moustache or falling in love across castes. Recorded on cell phones and disseminated through the social media, this violence is at once secret in its execution and hyper-visible in its sharing, revealing the brutal truth that the official scene seeks to deny.

The dominant casts in modern India have had a project: to naturalise the split. The new “common sense” is an aggressive discourse of the successful erasure of caste: “Caste doesn’t matter anymore,” “We are all casteless now,” “Only the backward castes talk about caste.” To talk about pervasive caste discrimination is characterised as “playing the caste card”, an obscene game of etching a primitive poison into the modern body politic. This is the hegemony that allows dominant caste persons to populate public spaces as generalised liberal individuals, free from caste bias while their social and intimate worlds are structured through caste power. It vulgarises the systemic character of caste to analysis, when it is reduced into ‘incidents’ alone or individual prejudices.

Case 1: The Khairlanji Massacre (2006): At Khairlanji town of Maharashtra wherein a Dalit family- the Bhotmanges—was lynched and women were sexually violated before they were murdered. The flash point was their testimony in a police case and the perceived social disobedience of owning property and being educated. Khairlanji is not a remnant of the archaic: it is a contemporary obscene explosion. The violence was not a spectacle of sovereign power but a secret, community-approved atrocity, later brought to light through the media and activism. It was a bid to violently re-assert a weakening local hegemony. By using the tools of modernity (courts, education, land titles), the Bhotmanges broke the “common sense” of Dalit acceptance by demanding subordination. The massacre was a demonstration to force a restoration of that “common sense.” The State’s initial reticence in using the PoA Act[1] was very much present. An alternate dialectic reveals: the progressive law (integral to constitutional scene) was subverted by the police, who were seeing it as a local arm of an obscene social order. The massive Dalit protests that followed were a counter-hegemonic gesture, dragging the obscene out of the closet and into the national eye-scape, compelling the official scene to abandon its hollow bromides and reckon with the violence it had rendered invisible.

Case 2: Corporate India and Duality of the Sabhya-Gavva: In the glass-and-steel offices of Bangalore or Gurgaon, it’s a different story. The office is a place of casteless modernity, it is run by HR (human resource) manuals and meritocratic ideology and professional dress codes. Here, caste is officially obscene; to mention it is a breach of professional etiquette. But it flourishes in the obscene of social capital (Teltumbde, 2010): weekend resorts gupshup, references and mentor chains; and crucially, ‘off-siting’ matrimonial alliances. Attempts to bring the Dalit professional into the elite corporate fold abound but they are not part of these obscene networks driving genuine career mobility and cultural identity. The hegemonic “common sense” is strong: “We don’t see caste here.” Such is the hegemony of caste, the many-layered monopoly by which privilege functions when you are a dominant caste, that it can reproduce itself updated to the gilled hilt with practised ease like no other marauding bandit – and all Dalit assertion of identity or complaint about bias can be counterpoised not as an obscenity but even better – since there’s always a reason why an obscenity cannot be effective enough in its monstrosity: casted as something that comes from ob-scoot-ated couches. This is the crowning achievement of modern caste schizophrenia: an absolute disconnection between the formal scene of liberal equality and the informal obscene of caste-reinforcing sociability.

Independence and the acceptance of a new constitution did not so much lead to the death of caste as to a transformation in the means adopted by it. If colonial modernity banished ritual spectacle in favour of bureaucratic classification, the postcolonial state ushered in a new grammar of visibility mediated by democracy, rights and representation. Caste was no longer publicly exalted in the form of sacred hierarchy; it now existed in the juridical idiom of egalitarianism and administrative calculus of reservations. The stage went from the village square and census archive to the courtroom, legislature, and electoral arena. But this transformation did not erase the old boundary of scene and obscene, it transformed it.

The explicit abjuration of untouchability and fundamental rights in the Constitution was a symbolic break with Brahmanical social ontology. In other Foucauldian terms, a new regime of truth was articulated: caste discrimination became something that it is illegal to speak about, but something that persists. That created a paradox of democratic visibility. Dalit presence in educational institutions, government bureaucracy, Parliament indicated an entry into the national scene, but leaves a lot of mediation through categories of injury, backwardness and compensatory justice. The reservation system, which is and was both re-distributive and emancipatory of caste identity, necessitated –for its operation– ongoing administrative naming of caste identity. By this, the very mechanism proposed to erode hierarchy itself re-inscribed caste within state knowledge. Visibility (to use the title of a good read) became two-edged: recognition and regulation.

This ambivalence is indicative of the larger movement from sovereign or disciplinary power toward what Foucault named bio-political administration. The post-colonial state manages its populations through welfare, quotas, development programmes and statistical surveillance. Caste in these instances is neither simply ritual nor only juridical, but becomes a demographic for techniques of governance. The obscene is no longer the occult labour that sustains ritual purity, but the residue of structural degradation that survives beneath the language of formal equality. Day-to-day violence—social boycott, atrocities, denial of access to housing or marriage networks—is frequented in a domain beyond the spectacular optics of national democracy, where it appears as exception rather than rule. What cannot be incorporated into this story of progress is relegated to the fringe of visibility.

Hegemony, as in Gramsci, thereby assumes a new form. The national promise of unity, development and democratic citizenship generates a strong ‘common sense’ that situates caste as a left-over social problem being slowly dissolved by the process of modernisation. This story line allows for some reform but overcomes more radical change. Dominant castes adjust by converting historical privilege into educational capital, bureaucratic power and management of local political establishments. Hegemony now moves away from ritual superiority to meritocratic language; inequality is no longer described using karma, but as the result of competition, culture, or efficiency. You win consent not so much by theology as by the aspirational rhetoric of the nation-state.

But the post-colonial picture is also one of an un-anticipated countervailing assertion. Dalit protests, Ambedkarite politics, literary publics and mass mobilizations turn humiliation into a collective critique. Public conversion ceremonies, acts of remembrance and symbolic appropriations of public space such as university campuses or spaces of atrocity re-perform the terrain from which Dalits were once confined. In Foucaldian parlance, subjugated knowledge systems explode into discourse questioning the neutrality of law and development. In Gramscian terms, these struggles are driven not only to inclusion but to moral-intellectual leadership capable of redefining the very order. Democracy doubles as instrument of regulation and terrain of insurgency.

This visibility is also complicated by both media and modern popular culture. Caste now whirls through television debates, digital activism, electoral rhetoric and bureaucratic documentation. The scene widens to a national and ever more virtual canvas. But growth is not the same as change. This is the realm of spectacular, and sometimes scripted, moments of outrage which can be simultaneous with banal indifference, giving rise to what could be termed a politics of intermittent visibility- caste appears dramatically in crisis and disappears back into normalcy. The obscene endures right in this several back and forth.

The postcolonial condition, then, is to be understood as a dynamic antagonism [rather than resolution]. Inherited hierarchy is contested by constitutional morality, but is also constantly re-articulated through social practice. Caste becomes subject to critique under democratic inclusion, even as administrative governance secures its categories. Power works less by oppressive and direct prohibition than by selective recognition; hegemony less by naturalised order than by promised development. It is not the distinction between scene and obscene that disappears, but rather becomes mobile, contested and historically contingent.

On this slippery ground, caste endures not as immobile tradition but as malleable entity materialised in modern institutions. Its strength is its adaptability; its weakness, the very visibility that democracy requires. The postcolonial stage then sets the stage for the contemporary moment, where neoliberal recalibration, digital moderation and new identity politics will once again realign what is visible, sayable and contestable in caste’s name.

IV. The Contemporary Neoliberal-Digital Scene: Circulation, Concealment, and Algorithmic Power

The late modern and early postmodern era represents another re-organization of caste’s scene of action, one related to neoliberal financialization, ever-faster urban transformation and digital communication. If the postcolonial constitutional order made caste visible in the languages of rights and welfare, neoliberal modernity deflects attention to markets, mobility, and privatised aspiration. Power increasingly functions by means of circulation rather than repression: capitalist, informational or affective flows transform social existence. In this terrain, caste does not vanish; it mutates, finding solace in infrastructures that seemingly are formal and neutral. The scene becomes diffuse, meshed and not entirely transparent.

Urban anonymity at first appeared to hold the promise of eroding inherited hierarchy. This was a society of skill, and with the migration to metropolitan labour markets, service economies now expanding, and meritocratic competition as the order of the business day it was implied a world governed by skill rather than by birth. But a closer look shows that caste does indeed change in response to these conditions through more subtle forms of recognition and exclusion. The segregation of housing in both the formal and informal real-estate markets, matrimonial advertisements coded by surnames and community markers, professional networks organized around kinship: All are reminders of how caste survives beneath the surface equality of contract. Free choice is, quite often, the cover for inherited social capital. In the Foucauldian sense, discipline becomes internalized as self-improvement: people structure their education, language and behaviour to mimic upper-caste cultural models. Power functions through aspiration.

This paradox of visibility and obscurity is only magnified by digital media. Social media, internet archives and digital journalism created, and continues to create, new Dalit self-presentation, memory-making and political mobilization. Stories of discrimination spread quickly and turn localised instances of pain into national or global conversations. Hashtag activism, digital memorialisation and virtual community building generate new counter-publics that challenge hegemonic narratives of caste vanishing. Subaltern knowledges gain a technological magnification, attempting to recall Foucaultian perceptions of the growth of discourse as a place for resistance.

Yet it is precisely these digital infrastructures that produce new forms of obscuration. Algorithmic sorting, datagov and platform economies all function through categories that look caste-blind even though they frequently reproduce historical inequality. Bandwidth access, linguistic capital, digital literacy, and social networks are variously unevenly distributed such that who can speak and what differences ultimately get heard is formed accordingly. Online anonymity can obscure caste identity, but it also opens the doors to a revival of abuse, harassment and symbolic violence stripped from responsibility. And so once more the obscene moves: not invisible work outside the ritual space, nor systematic humiliation under constitutional equality, but coded replication of hierarchy within seemingly neutral technological systems.

Neoliberal political economy also recasts Gramscian hegemony. Developmental nationalism is displaced by entrepreneurial individualism, with success recast in terms of personal realization rather than collective redistribution. This is an ideological shift that pulls the rug from under solidarity-based politics, while eclipsing structural constraint. Dominant caste privilege is reformulated as excellence, professionalism or global-competitiveness. Today, it is not through moral doctrine (as ideology) that hegemony functions but through desire: the desire for upward mobility within market society. Consent is obtained by promising the irrelevance of caste when in fact, material divisions remain.

Simultaneously, counter-hegemonic energies take on new shapes. Dalit entrepreneurship, trans-national mobilization, inter-sectional alliances, and cultural production in literature, film, and digital art re-invent dignity beyond the abjection of victimhood or what Geisser calls state-replaced recognition. Memory turns into political technology: archives of atrocity, commemoration of historical resistance, re-imagining Ambedkarite thought travel across geographies to confront neoliberal amnesia. These operations are not content with coming in from the outside: they want to redraw the lines of its deck, show us the hidden continuities between ritualized past and digital present.

The result is that the present period is one not of stability but rather of heightened contradiction. Caste is there and it is not; submerged in words while floating above them, crushed and dispersed in the personal but ominous in its structural totality, sundered across experience but knit tightly through data. The Foucauldian analysis shows that there is a move towards power as dispersed and infrastructural – algorithmic, not spectacular – while the Gramscian emphasises a hegemonic order built on aspiration, consumption and selective memory. The line between scene and obscene is constantly reconfigured by media circulation and political contestation.

In this neoliberal-digital formation, caste continues because it is able to occupy invisibility and exploit visibility: become visible when mobilised, disappear when asked. Its fate will rest on whether emerging counter-publics are able to change technological exposure into structure-changing possibilities, converting sporadic oppositional outcry’s to new moral-intellectual leadership. The drama of caste, far from being over, therefore moves on to a stage where power itself is more and more ethereal, and the fight to make inequality observable becomes the primary political act.

Anand Teltumbde’s analysis of caste’s “camouflaged” persistence provides a powerful lens for understanding the modern obscene. As he argues, “caste today is not what it appears to be. It has shed its religious garb and put on the secular attire of modernity” (Teltumbde 2010, 23). This insight resonates deeply with the Foucauldian scene/obscene dialectic: caste thrives precisely because it has migrated from the visible ritual scene to the hidden networks of social capital, professional networking, and matrimonial alliance. The corporate office that publicly celebrates meritocracy while privately excluding Dalits from informal mentorship networks exemplifies this schizophrenic condition. Yet Teltumbde’s Marxist commitments also remind us that this is not merely a matter of discourse or visibility: caste’s persistence is ultimately rooted in material control over land, capital, and labour. The scene/obscene dialectic, therefore, must be understood not as an alternative to materialist analysis but as a framework that reveals how power organises the visibility and invisibility of material exploitation itself.

V. Dalit Politics: Shattering the Proscenium Arch

It is possible to see the history of anti-caste resistance, from Jyotirao Phule’s radical philosophy through Ambedkarian revolutionary constitutionalism to today’s post-bahujan (radical) politics, as a prolonged struggle against this forced dialectic.

It may be noted that Dr. Ambedkar’s public burning of Manusmriti in 1927 was an archetypal act of shattering the sacred instrumentality constitutive of the old stage in scene making. In drafting the Constitution, he was seeking to reconstruct a new, fair scene from below. Dalit political and cultural assertion is, at bottom, a way of calling the obscene into the eye of the scene. The Bahujan political parties (such as the BSP party) emerging to prominence have put caste identity, previously considered a shame marker, on the national stage of the electoral politics for a source of pride and community mobilization. The taking of public space, a public scene which performs the exhibitionism of “dalitness” could be interpreted by authorities as a sign that dalits are trying to create some kind of counter-­public space. The “cattle meet festival” is striking in this regard, by publicly eating the meat deemed most polluting within Brahminical norms, activists force the unspeakable into public space, undermining the grammar of purity/pollution itself.

Dalit Studies, as it is being launched by veteran scholars such as Gopal Guru and others, does this important labour of theorising from the site of the obscene. It confronts the hegemonic “common sense” with a systematic recording and analysis of the lived experience of caste, not leaving it as anecdotal or passé.

VI. Synthesis and Conclusion: The Dialectic’s Enduring Grip and Its Cracks

The Foucauldian Gramscian analysis discovers that caste-modernity is not to be located in its end, but rather its strategic disintegration. Power circulates by keeping intact the gap between disavowing public scene and luminous private torque. The state’s role turns Janus-faced: progressive legislation that has made lives more livable and breathable in some ways, but that has also all too frequently, through institutional bias and political compromise, proved itself powerless to prevent obscene eruptions of violence.

This arrangement suits liberal democracy down to the ground, for it provides protection for the “private” sphere as an area beyond state interference and lets caste flourish there behind a screen of personal choice and cultural preference. It is also conducive to global capitalism, which can use caste-based social networks to control labour even as it floats a veneer of meritocratic neutrality.

But the dialectic is also an inherently unstable one. Every Khairlanji that turns into an issue of national interest, every corporate diversity report that whispers exclusion, every inter-caste marriage that invites ridicule is also a moment of rupture. In its varied avatars, it is Dalit politics that remains the sustained force challenging this division. The last struggle, as Ambedkar hoped, is not one for entry into the existing scene so much as to destroy the double stage itself, to establish a social order where the caste-based history and present are not some dirty secrets but an openly avowed basis for a common sense that is genuinely universalist and egalitarian. So long as that dialectic exists, caste in its morphed and schizophrenic form continues to survive.

(Note-An earlier version of this paper has appeared on SSRN E-Library, Elsevier.)

(The author teaches history at Shivaji College, University of Delhi. He can be reached at skandpriya@shivaji.du.ac.in)

References

Cohn, Bernard S. Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge. Princeton University Press, 1996.

Dirks, Nicholas B. Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India. Princeton University Press, 2001.

Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Vintage, 1977.

Gramsci, Antonio. Selections from the Prison Notebooks. International Publishers, 1971.

Guru, Gopal. Humiliation: Claims and Context. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Guru, Gopal, and Sundar Sarukkai. The Cracked Mirror: An Indian Debate on Experience and Theory. Oxford University Press, 2012.

Pandian, M.S.S. Brahmin & Non-Brahmin: Genealogies of the Tamil Political Present. Permanent Black, 2007.

Rao, Anupama. The Caste Question: Dalits and the Politics of Modern India. University of California Press, 2009.

Rege, Sharmila. Writing Caste/Writing Gender: Narrating Dalit Women’s Testimonios. Zubaan, 2006.

Risley, H.H. (Sir). Census of India, 1901. Vol. I, India. Part I, Report. Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, India, 1903.

Teltumbde, Anand. The Persistence of Caste: The Khairlanji Murders and India’s Hidden Apartheid. Zed Books, 2010.

The Smritichandrika of Devanna Bhatta (Trans. J.R. Gharpure). 1948.

South Indian Inscriptions (Vol. III, Chola Inscriptions). Archaeological Survey of India.

[1] Prevention of Atrocities Act (1989)

Related:

The Anatomy of Humiliation: Defining caste violence in the Constitutional era

It is religion-based politics that refuses to root out caste: Baba Adhav in conversation with Teesta Setalvad

Caste and community creations of human beings, God is always neutral: Madras HC

The post The Double Stage: Caste’s Schizophrenic Modernity between Spectacle and Shadow appeared first on SabrangIndia.

At the centre of the controversy are two distinct but intertwined developments:

1. AISA women leaders alleging verbal sexual abuse and threats inside and outside a police station. There are videos of this abuse circulating online
2. YouTuber Ruchi Tiwari claiming she was attacked by a mob of nearly 500 people while covering the protest.

As FIRs have been registered and political leaders have entered the fray, the struggle has increasingly shifted from what happened on campus to who controls the narrative of victimhood.

The Protest: UGC equity regulations and campus tensions

The protest on February 13 was organised by the All India Students’ Association (AISA) and allied groups demanding implementation of the University Grants Commission’s (Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions) Regulations, 2026.

The regulations — intended to strengthen safeguards against caste discrimination affecting SC, ST and OBC students — were recently stayed by the Supreme Court of India, which observed prima facie concerns of vagueness, particularly in the definitional scope of caste-based discrimination, and directed that the 2012 framework would remain in force pending further hearings.

Details may be read here.

Students supporting the regulations have emphatically argued they are essential to address structural caste bias within higher education. Opponents –many who have led aggressive and violent protests against their implementation –claim certain provisions are “vulnerable to misuse.”

This mobilisation was framed as part of a broader “Adhikar” campaign asserting dignity and institutional accountability.

The Flashpoint: Ruchi Tiwari’s presence and the confrontation

According to reports in The Print, tensions escalated when Ruchi Tiwari, who runs the YouTube channel Breaking Opinion, arrived at the site to cover the protest.

Tiwari describes herself as an “independent ground reporter”. Her channel, which has over 59,000 subscribers and more than 460 uploaded videos, frequently features a privileged caste lens depicting confrontational campus coverage, particularly around reservation, caste debates and identity politics. One of her recent YouTube Shorts is titled: “They want reservation but say don’t indulge in casteism.”

She has alleged that before she could begin reporting, individuals began calling out her name, asking her full identity and caste, after which a crowd surrounded and assaulted her. In statements to ANI (an agency that has increasingly been called out for its right-wing bias) , she claimed nearly 500 people attacked her, that she was held by the neck and arms, subjected to rape threats, and that there was an attempt to push her into a vehicle with its door open — which she described as an attempted abduction and “mob lynching.”

Videos online show pushing and scuffling. However, the full sequence remains disputed.

AISA’s Counter-Version: Provocation, altercation and selective framing

AISA has rejected Tiwari’s allegations as “false and motivated.”

According to statements cited by The Print, AISA leaders allege that the confrontation began when Tiwari engaged in provocative questioning and allegedly made casteist remarks referencing the Mahad Satyagraha led by Dr. B.R. Ambedkar. AISA further claims she harassed a Dalit journalist named Naveen and attempted to snatch his camera.

Some circulating videos, according to AISA, show Tiwari striking Naveen and later pushing or punching AISA activist Anjali during the confrontation. Another clip shows activists holding Tiwari while attempting to escort her toward police presence.

AISA has argued that several clips being widely shared omit audio or preceding events and therefore reshape public perception.

It is at this point, AISA claims, that the narrative began to shift — from a protest demanding caste equity to a viral storyline of a “woman journalist attacked by Left mobs.”

Another video from the February 13 incident at Delhi University exposes the conspiracy of Sanghi-Casteist-Feudal goons against students demanding equity and social justice. These goons threatened AISA activists and DU students with vulgar abuses inside the Maurice Nagar Police… pic.twitter.com/ObROzq3H4r

— CPIML Liberation (@cpimlliberation) February 14, 2026

Condemn the right-wing assault and hooliganism against Comrade Anjali in DU! Today, AISA DU Secretary Anjali was physically assaulted by a right wing group. Despite the heavy presence of Delhi Police and CRPF, the attackers were given a free hand.

This violence is the clearest… pic.twitter.com/0AS2xYOyIZ

— CPIML Liberation (@cpimlliberation) February 13, 2026

Statement of Communist Party of India -Marxist Leninist- Liberation:

The Police Station Incident: Allegations of sexualised abuse

The most serious allegations, however, concern what happened later at Maurice Nagar Police Station.

AISA leaders Anjali and Neha allege that when they went to file complaints, a right-wing mob gathered outside the police station premises. According to AISA, the crowd swelled from dozens to hundreds, shouting slogans and issuing rape and death threats.

AAP MP Sanjay Singh publicly condemned the episode on X, sharing a video and alleging that in the presence of police personnel, AISA women leaders were abused with explicit insults directed at their mother and were told to “remove their clothes.”

देश की राजधानी दिल्ली में थाने के अंदर, पुलिस वालों के सामने AISA की महिला नेता अंजली और नेहा को मां की गाली देते हुए कहा गया, “कपड़े निकाल।” एक बिहार की बेटी, दूसरी उत्तराखंड की — दोनों सवर्ण हैं, लेकिन वंचितों के हक की आवाज उठाना उनका गुनाह हो गया। अगर यह घटना पंजाब या बंगाल… pic.twitter.com/JgRZ9cgf99

— Sanjay Singh AAP (@SanjayAzadSln) February 15, 2026

Singh questioned how such an incident could occur in the national capital and linked it to broader concerns about women’s safety. He alleged that the targeting of the two women leaders was connected to their vocal advocacy for marginalised communities.

AISA has termed the episode “state-sponsored hooliganism,” alleging that activists were effectively confined inside a room for hours while threats were issued outside. Anjali was reportedly taken for a medico-legal examination.

Delhi Police, according to ANI, has registered two FIRs — one based on Tiwari’s complaint and another based on a complaint by a female AISA student — under sections relating to assault, voluntarily causing hurt, wrongful restraint and common intention under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita.

UGC का समर्थन कर रही दिल्ली यूनिवर्सिटी कि छात्राओं को दिल्ली पुलिस के सामने थाने में भद्दी-भद्दी गालियां दी जा रही हैं। UGC के नए प्रावधानो का महत्व इसी बात से लगाया जा सकता है कि दलित और पिछड़ों के हुकूक का उलंघन ना हो… pic.twitter.com/Qs8e7eew71

— Ashraf Hussain (@AshrafFem) February 15, 2026

ABVP, DUSU and administrative responses

The Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) has maintained that Tiwari was present in her professional capacity and was attacked for asking questions. Its Delhi state secretary described the episode as an attack on media freedom and characterised Left-affiliated campus politics as violent.

Aryan Maan, President of the Delhi University Students’ Union, condemned the alleged assault on Tiwari and called for a fair and impartial investigation. DUSU leaders have stated that violence has no place in campus politics.

Meanwhile, Vice-Chancellor Yogesh Singh described the incident as a matter of concern and urged the university community to maintain social harmony. He confirmed having spoken with student and teacher groups as well as police authorities.

मैं दिल्ली विश्वविद्यालय के सभी शिक्षकों और विद्यार्थियों से अनुरोध करता हूं कि वह आपस में सौहार्द बनाए रखें। कोई भी ऐसा काम न करें जिससे आपसी मनमुटाव बढ़े और राष्ट्र व विश्वविद्यालय की छवि को नुकसान हो।

दिल्ली विश्वविद्यालय में कल जो घटना हुई वह चिंता का विषय है।…

— University of Delhi (@UnivofDelhi) February 14, 2026

The Larger Question: When violence becomes a narrative weapon

What unfolded at Delhi University is no longer simply a dispute about who pushed whom in a scuffle.

It is a case study in how protests over caste equity are rapidly reframed into spectacles of disorder; how women activists alleging sexualised abuse must compete for credibility against viral video clips; and how digital ecosystems determine which injury becomes the “real” one.

At stake is not merely the credibility of AISA or the veracity of Ruchi Tiwari’s claims. It is the deeper question of whose victimhood travels faster, and why.

When allegations of rape threats and sexualised slurs inside or outside a police station struggle to command sustained outrage — while a competing claim of assault dominates headlines within hours — it reveals something structural about public discourse. Gendered abuse against politically inconvenient women often dissolves into “partisan noise.” Caste-based mobilisation is quickly recast as mob aggression. And campus politics becomes content.

This is not to prejudge the outcome of the FIRs. Due process must determine individual liability. But focusing exclusively on the procedural neutrality of “both sides have filed complaints” risks obscuring the larger asymmetry: narrative power in the digital age is unevenly distributed.

A protest demanding the restoration of equity regulations meant to protect SC, ST and OBC students has been displaced by a battle over viral footage. The structural issue — caste discrimination in higher education — has receded behind the spectacle of confrontation.

This shift is not accidental.

Related:

Campuses in Revolt: How the UGC Equity Stay and Criminalised Dissent Have Ignited Student Protests Across India

The stay of UGC Equity Regulations, 2026: The interim order, the proceedings, and the constitutional questions raised

Higher Education: How Centre is Undermining State Autonomy & Politicising UGC

‘Diluted Existing Rules’: Rohith Vemula, Payal Tadvi’s Mothers Slam UGC’s Draft Equity Regulations

Academic Freedoms at Risk: Federalism and autonomy challenged by UGC’s VC appointment guidelines

The post UGC Guidelines 2026: AISA Protest at Delhi University followed by sexual abuse allegations amid police presence appeared first on SabrangIndia.

— Rohith Vemula

It has been ten years since Rohith Vemula’s institutional murder.^[1] That emptiness is not his alone. It is the lingering feeling many from marginalised communities carry with them when they enter India’s so-called “elite” institutions –- IITs, IIMs, NITs, and Central Universities.

A 2022 survey in the Quint conducted at IIT Bombay following the Institutional Murder of Darshan Solanki found that one in every three SC/ST students had been asked about their caste identity.

Faculty spaces in these institutions reflect a similar imbalance. Despite constitutionally mandated reservations for SC, ST, and OBC communities, faculty positions continue to be dominated by those from the general category, as reported by The Hindu.

Under representation in these institutions

Under-representation is not incidental; it is structural. In at least two IITs and three IIMs, nearly 90% of faculty positions are held by individuals from the general category. In six IITs and four IIMs, the figure ranges between 80–90%, according to a report by The Wire, based on an RTI filed by Gowd Kiran Kumar, National President of the All India OBC Students Organisation.

The culture of exclusion within India’s elite institutions is not declining. It has been firmly entrenched.

Source: MHRD Data and a report in Quint, November 28, 2019

Faculty recruitment across IIMs has witnessed a significant decline between 2019 and 2026.

OBC, SC, ST – FACULTY IN IIM’s

This was first put out on social media. Verifying this we found that, according to a report in The Print on “The Parliamentary Standing Committee on Education, Women, Children, Youth and Sports titled “2025–26 Demands for Grants of the Department of Higher Education” as of January 31, 2025, 28.56 percent of the total sanctioned teaching faculty positions (18,940) remained vacant across IITs, National Institutes of Technology (NITs), Indian Institutes of Management (IIMs), Indian Institutes of Science Education and Research (IISERs), Central Universities, and other higher education institutions.

The data further reveals that 17.97 percent of the 11,298 Assistant Professor positions (entry-level posts) are vacant, 38.28 percent of the 5,102 Associate Professor positions (mid-level posts) remain unfilled, and an alarming 56.18 percent of the 2,540 Professor positions are currently unoccupied.

The question then is stark: Why are SC, ST, and OBC positions left unfilled even when institutions have vacancies and eligible candidates are available?

When questioned about their recruitment processes, many institutions claim to follow a “flexi” system. When asked why reservation policies are not implemented, some have anonymously stated that hiring is done purely on “merit”. This raises a troubling question, does “merit” imply that candidates from marginalised communities are deemed intellectually unfit to teach in elite institutions? It is also frequently argued that an “adequate talent pool” is unavailable.

The experience of Subrahmanyam Sadrela illustrates the deeper structural problem. After completing his M.Tech and PhD from IIT Kanpur, Sadrela joined the institute as an Associate Professor in the Aerospace Engineering Department in January 2018. Soon after his appointment, colleagues reportedly remarked that his selection was “wrong”, that he did not deserve to be a faculty member, that his English was inadequate, and that he was mentally unfit. In April 2019 nearly a year after he raised allegations of caste-based discrimination on campus, he was accused of plagiarism in his thesis and threatened with the revocation of his PhD degree, as per a report in ­the Times of India. A detailed investigation by the Directorate of Civil Rights Enforcement (DCRE) and reported by the Mooknayak said that the corroborated allegations of caste based discrimination inside IIM – B made by an associate professor Dr Gopal Das were vaild.

A significant portion of the 2025 data is not available online. Most publicly accessible information is from 2023–24, with limited material from early to mid-2025. This absence itself is telling, particularly as the pace of erosion of transparency –by institutions under the union government–appeared to accelerate in 2025, as per a report in the Wire.

RTI data from 2024 revealed that no SC, ST, or OBC faculty members were recruited in 2023 at IIT Bombay. Further, 16 departments at IIT-B did not admit a single student belonging to the ST community in the 2023–24 academic year. Shockingly, in five departments at IIT-B, no ST student had been admitted in the last nine years. This data was shared by the Ambedkar Periyar Phule Study Circle (APPSC), a student group at IIT Bombay, based on an RTI response received on February 6, 2025. In a post shared on X (formerly Twitter) on 9 April, the group alleged that IIT Bombay “Is violating reservation norms despite the MMR (Mission Mode Recruitment) announcement.”

Notably, no information was put out by the Circle regarding 2025 data on PhD enrolments or faculty recruitment. The Circle, which had consistently been active in raising questions of injustice, appeared to fall silent on these figures. Speculations can be made that the voice of the student group was curbed by the institute. Established in 2017, the Circle had positioned its X account as a strong voice responding to issues affecting students within and beyond IIT-B. 

The death of Darshan Solanki, a Dalit student at IIT-B, further intensified concerns. His father claimed that caste-based harassment led to his son’s suicide. However, the committee constituted by the institute concluded that the suicide was linked to poor academic performance, stating that none of Darshan’s close associates had reported instances of caste-based harassment. It must be noted that the committee did not include a single external member; it comprised only IIT staff. The inquiry was entirely internal. To many, it appeared a complete white wash.

Similar patterns of hostility have surfaced in other premier institutions. Students at the Indian Institute of Mass Communication (IIMC), Delhi, reported that casteist messages such as “SC/ST leave the campus” and “Jai Parshuram” were circulated by fellow students on unofficial WhatsApp groups. Memes targeting Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar were also shared.

When anonymous complaints were submitted, the institute’s director and faculty reportedly responded that since the complaint had been made anonymously, it could not be entertained. This was conveyed by a senior official on the condition of anonymity.

If students are made to feel this unwelcomed within these institutions, why would they not drop out? Why would faculty members not resign? 

The dropout rates of SC, ST, and OBC students in these elite institutions are often attributed to financial difficulties or “excessive academic pressure.” Yet, the lived experiences of students suggest a far more troubling reality.  Following Darshan Solanki’s death, a survey was conducted at IIT Bombay. Students were asked a series of questions about campus climate and discrimination. One such question, along with several responses, is reproduced here. These responses reveal the brutal reality of a systemic failure—one that institutions attempt to downplay or conceal, even when exposed by the deaths of students like Darshan.

1.  What Has The Survey Revealed?

• On being asked if anyone has hurled “caste/tribal slurs or abuses or discriminated against you on campus,” 83.5 percent students said ‘No’.
• While 16.5 percent students said that they had, in fact, witnessed such instances, 70.4 percent students said that they had not witnessed anyone else being discriminated against on campus
• Nearly 25 percent, or one in every four students, said that the fear of disclosing their identity has stopped them from joining an SC/ST forum or collective.
• As many as 15.5 percent of students said that they have faced mental health issues arising from caste-based discrimination.
• Nearly 37 percent of students said that they were asked their Joint Entrance Exam (JEE)/ Graduate Aptitude Test in Engineering (GATE)/ Joint Admission Test for Masters(JAM) /Undergraduate Common Entrance Examination for Design (U)CEED rank by fellow students on campus in a bid to find out their (caste) identity.
• 26 percent of students were asked their surnames with the intention of knowing their caste.
• 6 percent, or one in every five students, said that they feared backlash from the faculty if they talked back against caste discrimination.
• 2 percent, or one in every three students, said that they feel SC/ST Cell needs to do more to address casteism on campus.
• Nearly 25 percent of the 388 students, that is one in every four students, did not attend an English-medium school in class 10.
• Nearly 22 percent of students are first-generation graduates from their family.
• Nearly 36 percent of students foretell that open category students perceive their academic ability as ‘average’. This is in contrast to 51 percent SC/ST students perceiving the academic ability of open category students as ‘very good’. (Source: the Quint)

There is a powerful story from the Solomon Islands that when people wish to uproot a tree, they gather around it and hurl abuses at it until the tree withers and dies. Whether or not this myth holds true for plants, its metaphor is painfully relevant in the context of India’s elite institutions.

An unwelcoming, hostile environment does not merely push students to drop out; it drives faculty members to resign as well.

Vipin V. Veetil resigned from IIT Madras in July, 2021. He had joined in 2019 as an Assistant Professor in the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences (HSS) in August the previous year. In his resignation email to the institute’s authorities, Veetil stated that his sole reason for quitting was caste-based discrimination allegedly faced from senior Brahmin faculty members within the department. However, the committee constituted by IIT Madras concluded that there was “no evidence of decisions being biased due to caste discrimination,” reasoning that most faculty members had “hardly interacted” with Dr. Veetil.

This was not the first instance. In January 2022, Veetil had also resigned after rejoining the institute in August 2020.

In another case, K. Ilanchezhian, a senior assistant director at the institute, filed a complaint alleging that his office space had been shifted to a students’ hostel, while his original office was allotted to an ‘upper’ caste research assistant.

Similarly, the Director of the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), Chennai, was booked at the Taramani police station under the SC/ST Act following allegations of caste discrimination against a colleague.

In 2024, an FIR was registered under various provisions of the SC/ST Act and the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita by the Bengaluru Police in a case alleging caste-based atrocities and systemic discrimination at IIM Bangalore. Eight individuals were named, including the institute’s Director and seven professors. The Directorate of Civil Rights Enforcement (DCRE), in its investigation findings dated December 20, 2024, confirmed systemic caste-based harassment faced by Associate Professor Gopal Das, a globally acclaimed Dalit scholar at IIM Bangalore, as per a report in the Mooknayak.

These cases represent only the tip of the iceberg.

Data on PhD enrolments in these institutions reveals that only a small number of students from SC, ST, and OBC communities have been able to secure admission into these prestigious doctoral programmes

Source: Table showing the 2022 PhD admission data of 13 IIMs obtained by RTI filed by APPSC IIT Bombay, The Wire

Scholarships for SC, ST, and OBC students are delayed and the students often get the amount after the end of their semesters. It has become an annual tradition for students to receive their scholarships after the end of their academic semester as reported in The Hindu. Minister Subhas Sarkar in this winter session of the Lok Sabha presented statistics that reveal the harrowing figures about dropouts by marginalised students studying in central universities, Indian Institutes of Technology, and Indian Institutes of Management.

In response to a question raised by BSP Member of Parliament (MP), Ritesh Pandey in 2023, the government disclosed that over the preceding five years, a staggering 13,626 SC, ST, and OBC students had discontinued their education.

The data further revealed that in Central Universities alone, 4,596 OBC students, 2,424 SC students, and 2,622 ST students had dropped out during this period. In the IITs, 2,066 OBC students, 1,068 SC students, and 408 ST students discontinued their studies. Similarly, in the IIMs, 163 OBC, 188 SC, and 91 ST students dropped out, reported SabrangIndia.

As stated before, no data for 2025 is accessible as of now, online.

Background

The Department of Personnel and Training (DoPT), the nodal central government agency on matters relating to reservation, issued an order in 1975 exempting certain scientific and technical posts from the reservation policy.

Siddharth Joshi, an IIM Bangalore doctoral alumnus and researcher who co-authored a paper with IIMB Professor Deepak Malghan on caste bias in IIMs, noted: “In 1975, an exemption was granted to IIM Ahmedabad by the Department of Personnel and Training with respect to reservation in faculty positions. While IIM Ahmedabad had expressly sought this exemption, other IIMs simply assumed that they were also exempt and began not implementing reservations in faculty recruitment.”

Institutions have frequently justified the marginal representation of SC and ST faculty by arguing that there is a lack of a sufficiently qualified applicant pool, as reported by the Quint.

However, marginalised communities remain underrepresented in these institutions both as students and as faculty. They are subjected to grave mental harassment on the basis of caste identity, by peers, by authorities, and by colleagues. At the same time, institutions routinely deny the existence of discrimination and attempt to curb voices that raise these concerns.

The deeper truth is this: people from marginalised communities are seldom truly accommodated within these spaces. They are rarely made to feel that they belong. They are otherised – their culture, language, and food practices subtly or overtly looked down upon. In these elite institutions, they continue to remain “they,” never fully accepted as “us.”

UGC Guidelines: Context, Counter-revolt and protest 

It is in this overall context of entrenched exclusion and othering that recent developments around the much-needed UGC guidelines 2026 need to be understood. Brought in following a rigorous human rights battle in the courts –spearheaded by the mother of Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi—they evinced visceral reactions from sections of the privileged caste elite. The union government, without putting up a spirited defence of its own enacted guidelines capitulated in its arguments of caste elite organisations in the Supreme Court. The Court too was prompt to stay implementation of these measures that would go a long way in addressing entrenched exclusion. Dozens of campuses across the country have seen spirited protests against this capitulation. Chandrashekhar Azad of the Bhim Army party even held a demonstration at Jantar Mantar on February 11 demanding that the 2026 Guidelines be implemented without change. Read references to this issue here, here and here.

Conclusion

“One out of three SC/ST students reported being asked about their caste,” revealed an IIT Bombay survey conducted in 2022.

Many students from the general category have reportedly hurled casteist abuses at SC/ST students. These elite institutions increasingly resemble exclusive spaces of savarna dominance. Yet, reports such as Caste-Based Enrolment in Indian Higher Education: Insights from the All-India Survey on Higher Education (AISHE) are published, claiming that nearly 60% of seats in higher education institutions are occupied by students from marginalised communities (p. 11 of 26).

While the AISHE data indicates a rise in enrolment from marginalised communities in recent years, it fails to answer a fundamental question: which institutions are being counted? Are these Tier 2 and Tier 3 colleges in urban peripheries, or institutions located in remote rural areas? Or are we speaking of IITs, IIMs, NITs, AIIMS, and Central Universities, the institutions that command prestige, resources, networks, and opportunity?

The distinction matters. A BSc degree from IIT Bombay can open doors to high-paying corporations and global opportunities. A BTech degree from an under-resourced college in a remote district often cannot. Access to elite institutions translates into access to power.

Meanwhile, over 13,000 SC, ST, and OBC students have dropped out of higher education in recent years. In Central Universities alone, approximately 4,500 OBC students, over 2,400 SC students, and nearly 2,600 ST students discontinued their studies. In the IITs and IIM’s, India’s premier institutes of learning — renowned not only for academic excellence but increasingly for caste discrimination and student suicides – around 2,000 OBC students, 1,000 SC students, and 408 ST students dropped out. At the IIMs, 163 OBC, 188 SC, and 91 ST students discontinued their education reported SabrangIndia.

The disbursal of fellowships and scholarships is frequently delayed, often reaching students only after the semester has ended. Students are made to feel undeserving and unwelcome—by faculty and by peers alike. They are shunned for their caste identities. They are made to feel like outsiders, as though these institutions belong only to certain classes and castes. Even their food practices are policed and mocked, as has been reported in several IITs. Sabrangindia has frequently reported on this alienation and discrimination.

Faculty positions in these institutions are overwhelmingly occupied, often 80 to 90 percent—by those from the general category. Those who dominate these spaces frequently go on to hire within the same social circles, reproducing exclusion in the name of “merit.” It becomes a vicious cycle. Even when scholars like Gopal Das or Subrahmanyam Sadrela manage to reach the other end of this black hole, the system finds ways to pull them back.

Nearly 79 years after Independence, sections of our people continue to be treated as second-class citizens within spaces that claim to represent the pinnacle of knowledge and progress. India prides itself on constitutional morality, yet its elite institutions often operate within what increasingly resembles an internal apartheid.

How long will this continue? How long will students like Rohith Vemula, Payal Tadvi, Darshan Solanki, and countless others be pushed into a system so steeped in humiliation and mental harassment that death appears to them more bearable than a life stripped of dignity?

That is the question we must confront.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Natasha Darade)

[1] A suicide born of distress, mental and other torture and alienation at the Hyderabad Central University (HCU) on January 17, 2026 inspired the Dalit students movement to coin the term “institutional murder” as this was the last of many and the beginning of several such deaths with institutions of higher learning in India

Related:

Campuses in Revolt: How the UGC Equity Stay and Criminalised Dissent Have Ignited Student Protests Across India | SabrangIndia

A Long Battle, A Swift Stay: The Fight for Equitable Campuses | SabrangIndia

My birth is my fatal accident, remembering Rohith Vemula’s last letter

Rohith’s death: We are all to blame

To Live & Die as a Dalit: Rohith Vemula

The post Cementing exclusion: What the numbers say about SC, ST, OBC presence in India’s elite institutions appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The 2025 Intervention Tracker:

• NCSC: 2 Complaints
• NCM: 6 Complaints
• NHRC: 2 urgent memorandums
• Police/Administration: 6 Complaints
• Preventive Actions: 2 pre-emptive Complaints

1.  National Commission for Scheduled Castes (NCSC): Battling caste-based atrocities

In early January 2025 (January 8), CJP approached the NCSC to highlight a troubling spike in atrocities against Dalit communities across Andhra Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, and Uttar Pradesh. These complaints, detailing incidents from late 2024, emphasised that such violence is rooted in a deeply ingrained discriminatory mind-set. CJP’s intervention sought to move the Commission beyond mere observation toward active enforcement of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989.

CJP is dedicated to finding and bringing to light instances of Hate Speech, so that the bigots propagating these venomous ideas can be unmasked and brought to justice. To learn more about our campaign against hate speech, please become a member. To support our initiatives, please donate now!

“Dignity for All”: a national mapping of 30 critical atrocities across 9 states

On June 24, CJP further filed a major formal complaint documenting 30 distinct incidents of violence across nine states, ranging from horrific sexual assaults on minors to the murder of a 10-year-old boy in Etah (Uttar Pradesh). Invoking Article 338 (5) of the Constitution, CJP sought an urgent probe into these crimes, which included social boycotts and the denial of cremation rights.

Widespread crimes against SCs violating the PoA Act and Civil Rights

CJP Stated in its complaint that, these incidents directly contravene the spirit and letter of the Protection of Civil Rights Act, 1955, and more critically, the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 (SC/ST PoA Act), which specifically aims to prevent atrocities against Scheduled Castes and to provide for special courts for the trial of such offenses and for relief and rehabilitation of the victims. The recurring nature of these incidents, especially the multiple instances of sexual violence and physical attacks, reveals a severe lapse in the implementation and enforcement of these crucial legislations.

Targeted crimes against SCs, a pattern of abuse

Through this complaint, CJP highlights that systemic, widespread incidents of caste-driven oppression that are prevalent countrywide, across states governed by different political dispensations pointing to a deep-rooted societal malaise that has not only acquired a frightening level of ‘normalised violence and oppression’ but also is ‘allowed because of structured levels of immunity’.

CJP also stated in its complaint that as per the NCRB report, there are a total of 70,818 cases of atrocities against SCs and 12,159 against STs that remained pending for investigation at the end of the year 2021. A total of 2,63,512 cases of SCs and 42,512 cases of STs were placed for trial in the courts. At the end of the year, more than 96 percent of the total cases were still pending for trial. Though the charge-sheeting percentage was more than 80%, but the conviction rate remained below 40%.

Why did CJP intervene?

CJP stepped in because these atrocities were no longer isolated crimes but had become the “new normal” of daily humiliation and violence revealing spiralling trends. When local police failed to register FIRs or provided “structured immunity” to dominant-caste perpetrators, it became clear that only a high-level constitutional push could break the deadlock. CJP’s intervention was necessary to force the NCSC to address the systemic collapse of the PoA Act and protect the basic human dignity of the marginalised communities.

1.  National Human Rights Commission (NHRC): CJP’s Memorandum 

On May 31, 2025, CJP submitted a memorandum to the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) regarding a major human rights crisis in Assam. In memorandum CJP reported that between May 23 and May 31, the Assam Border Police conducted secretive night raids across 33 districts, detaining at least 300 individuals, primarily Bengali-speaking Muslims, without warrants or legal paperwork. While some were eventually released, approximately 145 people remained untraceable, leading to fears of illegal “pushbacks” across the Indo-Bangladesh border.

The memorandum highlighted that many detainees were already involved in ongoing legal cases or had lived in India for generations. CJP argued that these actions bypassed the rule of law and violated constitutional rights under Articles 21 and 22. CJP has asked the NHRC to demand a full report from the government, set up a fact-finding committee, and ensure the immediate safety and return of those unlawfully detained or expelled.

On June 4, 2025, CJP submitted a supplementary memorandum to the NHRC providing harrowing first-person testimonies of illegal night detentions and forced expulsions in Assam. This submission followed the initial May 31 memo and documented a systematic campaign where the Assam Border Police allegedly bypassed all judicial sanctions to deport Bengali-speaking Muslims, including the elderly, the chronically ill, and individuals protected by court stay orders.

The memorandum included testimonies from survivors like Hajera Khatun and Sona Bhanu, who described being blindfolded, fingerprinted without consent, and abandoned in “no-man’s land” swamps under the cover of darkness. Families reported finding their missing loved ones only through viral social media videos filmed in Bangladesh. Notably, CJP revealed that individuals previously released from detention centres through legal efforts—such as Doyjan Bibi and Abdul Sheikh—were re-detained and forcibly removed despite complying with all bail conditions. CJP has urged the NHRC to launch an independent inquiry, summon top officials, and ensure the safe return of all those subjected to these extra-legal deportations.

Rationale of CJP’s Intervention

This crisis demanded CJP’s intervention because the state was operating entirely outside the law, conducting what looked more like abductions than legal detentions. By disappearing people in the dead of night and “pushing” them across borders, the administration bypassed the entire judicial system, including the Supreme Court’s own stay orders. CJP acted to stop this “stealth purge” and ensure that no person is rendered stateless through secretive, extra-legal executive actions.

III. National Commission for Minorities (NCM: Stemming Organised Hate

Throughout 2025, CJP acted as a constitutional vanguard, filing six major complaints with the National Commission for Minorities (NCM).

• “Dharma Sansads” and 2. “Trishul Deekshas”

The beginning of the year 2025 was marred by high-decibel events like “Dharma Sansads” and “Trishul Deekshas” in regions like Delhi, Rajasthan, and Himachal Pradesh. These gatherings were marked by explicit calls for economic boycotts and physical violence against Muslims and Christians. CJP’s complaints to the NCM detailed how speakers propagated baseless conspiracies such as “love jihad” and “land jihad” and these events created an atmosphere of deep fear and uncertainty. Consequently, we urged the Commission to hold those responsible accountable by ensuring FIRs are filed under the new Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) 2023

• Complaint over hate speech at Trishul Deeksha events

On January 29, CJP had filed a formal complaint with the NCM, raising alarm over a series of Trishul Deeksha events held in December 2024 across Punjab, Delhi, Himachal Pradesh, and Rajasthan. Organised by far-right groups such as the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP), Bajrang Dal, and Antarrashtriya Hindu Parishad (AHP), these gatherings featured openly inflammatory rhetoric, hate speech, and mobilisation against minority communities, particularly Muslims and Christians.

• Complaint against hate speeches at ‘Dharma Sansad’ events

On January 22, CJP filed a complaint with the NCM regarding a series of hate speeches delivered at ‘Dharma Sansad’ events on December 20, 2024, led by Yati Narsinghanand and other right-wing figures. Despite being denied permission to hold the event in Haridwar, the gathering proceeded at another location, where inflammatory and violent rhetoric was once again espoused, targeting Muslims and calling for a Hindu-only nation. The speeches at the event included derogatory language and explicit calls for physical violence against Muslims, promoting a vision of a society devoid of religious diversity.

• The Hindu Sanatan Ekta Padyatra: a ten-day mapping of fear

On December 2, 2025, Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP) submitted an exhaustive complaint to the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) regarding the Hindu Sanatan Ekta Padyatra, a massive 10-day mobilisation led by Dhirendra Krishna Shastri. Traversing 422 village panchayats across Delhi, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh, the march was documented by CJP as a systematic campaign of “othering” that weaponised religious identity. CJP’s detailed mapping of speeches Categorised the rhetoric into direct hate speech and high-intensity fearmongering, notably demographic conspiracy theories claiming Hindus were on the “brink of becoming minorities.”

The yatra featured exclusionary slogans such as “Jo Ram ka nahi wo kisi kaam ka nahi” and explicit calls for the economic boycott of Muslims and Christians. CJP highlighted how speakers used their spiritual authority to normalise “bulldozer justice” and incite historical resentment, such as invoking the Babri Masjid demolition to demand the reclamation of other religious sites. Warning that such organised campaigns, involving an estimated 3,00,000 participants, could trigger real-world violence, CJP urged the NCM to launch a fact-finding mission. Crucially, the organisation prayed for the appointment of nodal officers as per the Tehseen Poonawalla guidelines to protect vulnerable communities from the volatile atmosphere generated by the padyatra’s rhetoric.

1. Targeting Bengali-origin Muslims

In late September (September 30, 2025), submitted a comprehensive complaint to the National Commission for Minorities (NCM), highlighting what it described as an “alarming and coordinated escalation of hate speech” across India. The complaint documents how Bengali-origin Muslims, many of whom are lawful Indian citizens, are being systematically vilified as “Bangladeshis” and “ghuspaithiye” (infiltrators) in election rallies, public protests, and online campaigns. CJP’s submission to the NCM Chairperson requested a full inquiry and preventive directions to curb vigilante activity, emphasising that such rhetoric directly contravenes Supreme Court directions on hate crimes.

• CJP’s key demands to the NCM

The complaint called upon the Commission to:

• Take legal cognisance under the NCM Act and initiate an inquiry.

• Direct registration of FIRs against individuals and organisations spreading hate.

• Curb vigilante activity by outfits like Bir Lachit Sen and All Tai Ahom Students’ Union.

• Ensure police compliance with Supreme Court orders on suo motu action.

• Enforce preventive measures, such as videographing rallies and banning repeat hate offenders.

• Urge social media platforms to remove hateful content.

• Launch a fact-finding mission on the profiling, harassment, and eviction of Bengali-origin Muslims nationwide.

• CJP’s key intervention in systemic targeted harassment and hate-motivated violence against Christians in Rajasthan (September, 2025)

On October 8, 2025, CJP filed a formal complaint with the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) regarding a surge in targeted harassment and hate-motivated attacks against the Christian community in Rajasthan throughout September 2025. The complaint highlights a series of disturbing incidents following the introduction of the Rajasthan Prohibition of Unlawful Conversion of Religion Bill, 2025. Key flashpoints included a police raid on a children’s hostel in Alwar on September 3, the coercive interrogation of believers in Kotputli-Behror on September 9, and the forceful closure of St. Paul’s Hostel School in Dungarpur on September 11. Most notably, on September 21 in Jaipur, a mob of 40–50 activists assaulted a private prayer meeting, injuring eight people.

CJP urged the Commission to take immediate cognizance of these events, which they describe as a “coordinated campaign” involving vigilante violence and administrative bias. CJP requested a time-bound investigation into police misconduct and the registration of FIRs under BNS Sections 196 and 299. They further called for the implementation of Supreme Court guidelines from the Tehseen Poonawalla case to ensure accountability and the protection of constitutional rights under Articles 14, 21, and 25.

Action Taken by NCM: Following the formal complaint lodged by CJP, the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) initiated official proceedings on October 14, 2025, by issuing a directive to the Chief Secretary of the Government of Rajasthan. In its formal communication, the Commission stated that “The complainant should be apprised of the action taken in the matter and the Commission should also be informed.”

• The rise of extra-legal vigilantism and “Identity Policing”

On December 18, 2025, CJP formally approached the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) to report a surge in vigilante violence and state-led targeted evictions. The comprehensive complaint documents a disturbing pattern of incidents occurring between September and November 2025, primarily targeting Muslim and Christian communities across multiple states. CJP highlighted five critical areas of concern as physical vigilantism involving cow protection and moral policing; economic intimidation through informal boycotts of minority-owned businesses; disruption of Christian prayer meetings under the guise of preventing conversions; coercive identity policing; and large-scale demolitions that disproportionately affect vulnerable populations without adequate rehabilitation.

The central theme of the CJP’s complaint is the emergence of “self-appointed enforcers” who act with a perceived sense of impunity. CJP argued before the NCM that these are not isolated events but a recurring pattern that erodes constitutional guarantees of equality and religious freedom. The organisation expressed grave concern over selective law enforcement, noting that police often act upon vigilante complaints while ignoring the initial unlawful acts of the perpetrators. CJP has urged the NCM to demand action-taken reports from state governments, ensure the impartial application of criminal law, and safeguard the livelihoods and dignity of minority groups against normalisation of such violence.

Action Taken by NCM: On January 23, 2026, the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) has officially taken cognizance of the representation submitted by CJP on December 18, and has registered the case. Acting on complaint, the Commission formally forwarded a copy of the complete representation to the Home Secretary, Ministry of Home Affairs, North Block, New Delhi, for urgent consideration and appropriate intervention.

III. Police Authorities: Demanding Neutrality & Accountability

In 2025, CJP filed 5 major collective complaints with police and administration, across several states, to demand accountability, immediate preventive action, and a strict adherence to the rule of law.

“In the line of Crossfire”: when CJP demanded authorities to Act

Throughout February and March, CJP filed multiple state-wide complaints against BJP MLA and Minister Nitesh Rane for inflammatory speeches delivered in Pune, Sindhudurg, and Ratnagiri. CJP contended that as an elected representative in a position of significant influence, Rane bore a heightened legal and ethical responsibility to maintain communal harmony. Invoking the Supreme Court’s landmark Amish Devgan judgment, which distinguishes between free speech and harmful incitement, the organisation filed a series of formal complaints to demand that law enforcement act decisively against rhetoric that threatened the state’s social fabric.

1.  Nanijdham, Ratnagiri – On March 28, 2025, CJP approached the Superintendent of Police and the District Magistrate of Ratnagiri regarding a speech delivered by Rane during a public felicitation. The complaint documented how Rane propagated baseless conspiracy theories like “love jihad” and “land jihad,” utilising Islamophobic slurs and specifically targeting religious sites such as Mazars and Dargahs. CJP argued that this inflammatory language was a direct attempt to stir fear and mistrust toward the Muslim community, citing the Amish Devgan standard that such speech serves no legitimate purpose other than to sow division and provoke social discord.
2.  Wagholi, Pune – On March 18, 2025, CJP approached the Additional Director General (Law & Order) and the Pune Police regarding a contentious speech delivered at a temple in Wagholi. In this instance, Rane openly advocated for housing discrimination, urging Hindus to rent properties exclusively to fellow Hindus and warning that renting to even one “Aslam” would lead to a demographic takeover. CJP asserted that this rhetoric incited segregation and violated Articles 14 and 15 of the Constitution. Furthermore, Rane’s fabrication of a coordinated plot to turn India into an Islamic nation by 2047 was flagged as a dangerous exploitation of public anxiety designed to dehumanise an entire community.
3.  Sindhudurg District – On March 7, 2025, CJP filed a joint complaint with the SP and Collector of Sindhudurg addressing speeches delivered in Kundal and Sawantwadi. These events, organised by right-wing outfits, featured Rane warning locals about “Islamisation” and issuing explicit threats. In Sawantwadi, Rane reportedly told the audience to contact him directly to “settle” matters if anyone “kept an evil eye” on his religion, pointedly remarking that he would ensure such individuals would not return to their place of worship on Fridays. CJP highlighted this as a clear incitement to communal violence and a violation of Supreme Court mandates that require police to take suo moto action against hate speech regardless of the speaker’s political standing.
4.  Nagpur City –  On April 24, 2025, Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP) filed a formal complaint with the Additional Director General of Police (Law & Order), Maharashtra, and the Nagpur Police Commissioner regarding a divisive speech delivered by right-wing influencer Kajal Hindustani (Kajal Singhala). The speech, delivered during a public “Shivjanmotsav” event in Nagpur on February 19, 2025, targeted the Christian and Muslim communities through inflammatory narratives and baseless conspiracy theories.

CJP’s submitted that Hindustani’s rhetoric—which characterised conversions as being traded for “a sack of rice” and utilised the “Love Jihad” trope—meets the definition of hate speech as established in the Supreme Court’s Amish Devgan vs. Union of India (2021) 1 SCC 1 ruling. The complaint argues that such statements serve no purpose other than to sow mistrust, demean minority religious practices, and dehumanise marginalised sections.

Partisan conduct by Jagaon Police: CJP’s intervention

CJP intervened in October 2025 following a distressing breach of professional conduct by the police in Jalgaon. CJP filed a comprehensive complaint with the Director General of Police (DGP) of Maharashtra and the Superintendent of Police in Jalgaon, calling for immediate disciplinary action against officials from the Jamner Police Station. This demand for accountability arose after police personnel were observed publicly participating in a communal procession organised by Shiv Pratisthan Hindustan—the very organisation whose members are accused in the brutal August 2025 lynching of 20-year-old Suleman Pathan.

The complaint, which was also marked to the Maharashtra Home Department and the National Human Rights Commission, contends that such conduct is a blatant violation of the police oath of office and the Maharashtra Police Conduct Rules. CJP argued that the participation of investigating officers in a rally organised by a far right group linked to the accused is not just an ethical failure, but a total collapse of the constitutional principle of neutrality. Such actions severely compromise the integrity of criminal investigations and shatter the public’s—particularly the victim’s family’s—faith in the fairness of the legal process.

In its pursuit of justice for the Pathan family, CJP has demanded the immediate suspension of the concerned officers and the transfer of the Suleman Pathan investigation to an independent agency. Furthermore, the organisation has pressed for a state-wide directive to reaffirm the necessity of police impartiality in all communal and hate-crime cases.

Curbing market vigilantism: the Malabar Hill incident

In late November (November 25, 2025), CJP moved against a former political leader who conducted unauthorised “Aadhaar checks” of Muslim vendors at Mumbai’s Malabar Hill. CJP identified this as an unlawful assumption of policing functions and religious profiling intended to disrupt the livelihoods of minority communities. By demanding identity documents and instructing Hindu vendors to display saffron flags, these actors attempted to enforce a system of visible segregation. CJP’s complaint urged the police to protect the vendors’ right to trade and to register FIRs against the vigilante actors.

Action Taken by NCM: Pursuant to the CJP’s complaint submitted on November 25, 2025 against Raj Saraf, the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) has taken cognisance of the matter and forwarded the complaint to the concerned authorities for appropriate inquiry and action. The complaint was received from the office of the National Commission for Minorities, Malabar Hill, Thane, and was thereafter transmitted to V. P. Marg Police Station for further investigation. The police authorities have acknowledged receipt of the complaint and have initiated the process of inquiry in accordance with law.

1.  Preventive Action against Hate-filled Gatherings

CJP’s proactive stand against the proposed communal mobilisation in Pune and Goa

In January, CJP proactively filed two complaints with the Pune and Goa Police to halt “Hindu Rashtra Jagruti” events. Highlighting the track record of the organising outfits in promoting Islamophobia and economic boycotts, CJP urged authorities to invoke Sections 130 and 132 of the BNSS, 2023 to prevent cognisable offences. CJP emphasised in its complaints that allowing such gatherings would violate fundamental rights and contravene Indian criminal law, particularly by inciting communal tensions in otherwise peaceful regions.

• When CJP asks Pune Police to halt right-wing’s ‘Hindu Rashtra Jagruti Andolan’ event

On January 4, 2025, CJP filed a formal complaint with the Pune Police seeking immediate preventive action against the “Hindu Rashtra Jagruti Andolan” scheduled for the following day. Organised by the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti (HJS), the event raised alarms due to the group’s history of inflammatory rhetoric regarding “Love Jihad,” economic boycotts, and religious conversions. CJP argued that such gatherings stoke communal tensions and violate constitutional rights, citing a Mumbai precedent where a similar rally was denied permission to preserve social harmony.

• CJP seeks preventive action against HJS’s Goa event

On January 22, 2025, CJP further filed a formal complaint with the Goa Police, seeking immediate preventive action against the “Hindu Rashtra Jagruti Sabha” event scheduled for January 25 in Sanguem. Forwarded to the Inspector General and Superintendent of Police, the complaint highlighted the potential threat posed by the organiser, Hindu Janajagruti Samiti (HJS), a group with a documented history of hate speech and divisive rhetoric. CJP raised a sharp alarm, noting that the HJS frequently propagates baseless conspiracies like “Love Jihad” and calls for economic boycotts against minorities, which could ignite communal tensions in a diverse region.

Rebuilding faith in the Rule of Law

CJP’s 2025 interventions were not just about reporting crimes; they were about providing a blueprint for administrative action. Through the distribution of our handbook, “Towards a Hate-Free Nation,” CJP equipped police and district administrations with the latest jurisprudence from the Supreme Court. We maintain that combating hate is a collective responsibility, and our relentless intervention with the NCM, NCSC, NHRC & other constitutional bodies/authorities and state police/administration remains the frontier of this effort to reclaim the secular and democratic fabric of India.

Related

Fighting Hate in 2024: How CJP Held Power to Account

2024: CJP’s battle against communal rallies before and after they unfold

Holding power to account: CJP’s efforts to combat hate and polarisation

The post Turning the Constitution into Action: CJP’s year against a rising tide of hate appeared first on SabrangIndia.

मुंबई के संजय गांधी नेशनल पार्क, बोरिवली में अवैध अतिक्रमण हटाने पहुंची वन विभाग और पुलिस की टीम पर स्थानीय निवासियों ने पथराव कर दिया, जिससे माहौल तनावपूर्ण हो गया। अदालत द्वारा गैर‑आदिवासी अतिक्रमण हटाने का आदेश दिए जाने के बाद जब कार्रवाई शुरू हुई, तो वहां रह रहे परिवारों ने… pic.twitter.com/RtxetyZZFV

— NDTV India (@ndtvindia) January 26, 2026

Meanwhile Anish Gavande, activist has, in an open lettrer to Ganesh Naik, Maharashtra Minister for Forests, appealed for the immediate halt in demolitions and protection of their life and property. This letter was made public at 6 p.m. on Monday, January 26. (NCPSP/NS/AG/27012026/001 Date: 27 January, 2026)

Quoting credible reports, Gavande states that “multiple Adivasi hamlets are facing demolition from January 19 this year without completed surveys, verified resident lists, or the lawful conclusion of the Forest Rights Act (FRA) process. Proceeding with evictions is a direct violation of Sections 4(1) and 4(5) of the Forest Rights Act, 2006, which explicitly prohibit eviction until all individual and community claims are verified through the Gram Sabhas. Eviction notices have been pasted late at night, with incorrect names and without field verification, denying residents a fair opportunity to seek legal remedy.”

Gavande also states that “equally concerning is the withdrawal of essential services. Electricity has been cut, BEST bus services suspended, and community facilities shut, with children being unable to attend school…..The justification that action is limited to so-called “re-encroachers” ignores the structural failure of rehabilitation. For Adivasi families whose livelihoods depend on land, livestock, and forest ecology, relocation to small SRA flats is neither viable nor lawful rehabilitation. This reality cannot be erased through administrative labelling. Conservation cannot be pursued by bypassing the law, particularly when large infrastructure projects continue within the same forest landscape.”

He has urged for the immediate halt all demolition activity, restore essential services, and ensure that no eviction proceeds until all FRA claims are lawfully settled through the Gram Sabha process. Failing timely intervention, affected communities and those supporting them will have no option but to intensify democratic protest and pursue all available legal and constitutional remedies.”

The letter may be seen here.

Finally the pressure worked and the demolitions were halted.

At 6.30 p.m. on January 27, IANS reported that Minister Ganesh Naik says, “The thing is that National Park is sensitive. Honorable High Court has ordered them to vacate the park. But still, without informing people it is not right to remove them. We have given houses to many people, but still they are not going. So, to find out whether it is true or false, a meeting is being held. I will inform you again after the meeting…”

Mumbai, Maharashtra: On Stone pelting situation in Borivali National Park Minister Ganesh Naik says, “The thing is that National Park is sensitive. Honorable High Court has ordered them to vacate the park. But still, without informing people it is not right to remove them. We… pic.twitter.com/k9yeJ6tYJJ

— IANS (@ians_india) January 27, 2026

Related:

Mumbai: Hundreds of people displaced after demolitions in Jai Bhim Nagar

Demolitions in Mumbai’s Behrampada before Eid

BJP MLA Nitesh Rane leads Hindutva Rally in Govandi, demands demolition of “illegal Masjids and Madrasa”

Govandi slum demolition: Temporary halt after protests outside BMC office by residents, those rendered homeless to rebuild their homes at the same site

The post Demolition of Adivasi homes at Sanjay Gandhi National Park on Republic Day appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Historical practices underscore the institutional roots of this humiliation, which are alarmingly mirrored and even innovated upon in contemporary India. Accounts from the Peshwa rule describe how untouchables were prevented from using public streets due to the polluting effect of their shadow; in Poona, they were forced to wear a broom attached to their waist to sweep away their footprints. Visuals of such a humiliating practice has been immortalised by Dalit writers and poets (Dalit shahirs)—performers in the late 19^th and 20^th centuries—that created a body of literature and theatre known as Dalit jalse.[1] Such ritual enforcement of segregation persists today in modernised forms of humiliation. This includes incidents where a 12-year-old Dalit boy died by suicide after being locked in a cowshed and shamed for accidentally entering an upper-caste house in Himachal Pradesh (October 2025), or the horrific case of a 14-year-old Dalit child forced to consume his own faeces (July 2020).

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The continuance –in the 21^st century — of these ritualistic forms of violence, seven decades after India’s independence, confirms a profound failure of the constitutional promise of equality. The violence is often preceded by symbolic degradation—the imposition of dominant caste thought and perception—which acts as a necessary pre-condition for the subsequent material and physical violence. This structural denial of humanity maintains the cultural and ritual authority of the caste system, fundamentally resisting constitutional mandates.

In 1950, the Constitution of India promised a radical rupture: the abolition of untouchability (Article 17), equality before the law (Article 14), and a vision of dignity that sought to transcend birth-based hierarchy. Even then, as Indians celebrated a vision of equality and non-discrimination, there was vocal resistance (in the Constituent Assembly) to a complete and total abolition of Caste itself at the time of the Constituent Assembly debates; finally, as a compromise, Article 17 was enacted. Seven decades later, the persistence and intensification of violence against Dalits across regions and institutions suggest that even the limited promise remains incomplete.

In recent years, this crude form of violence and exclusion has acquired new visibility — and new legitimacy. Incidents of caste humiliation no longer remain confined to villages or agrarian conflicts; they permeate public spaces, reflective of the re-legitimisation of this othering by the dominance of the political ideology ruling at the Centre and over a dozen states: Schools, cities, social media, and even the judiciary’s symbolic space have been breached: it is as if a shrill messaging is being broadcast of the casteist majoritarian regime in power; that caste exclusion and hierarchy is not simply justified but will be violently imposed. When an advocate of India’s apex court “dares” flinging a shoe at the present Chief Justice of India (CJI), a Buddhist and this is followed by singular racial abuse online, it shatters the comforting belief that institutional achievement insulates against stigma. Such episodes illuminate a wider social truth: caste not only continues to function as India’s deepest grammar of power, adapting to modern structures rather than disappearing within them. Caste resurgence is the order of the day, being re-imposed, brutally by this dispensation. What India is witnessing is the classic form of counter-revolution.

This article maps this regression. Mostly drawing upon recent incidents documented in 2025 —including those in Thoothukudi, Panvel, Meerut, and Madhya Pradesh—it reconstructs what can be termed the “new architecture of caste attacks.” Major incidents before 2025 have also been included to show a pattern. Violence and exclusion today occur through overlapping arenas: the village, the city, the school, the digital sphere, and the state itself. Each arena reveals how caste’s social logic survives despite constitutional guarantees.

Notably, all the incidents referred to in this piece has been provided in detail in a separate document below:

The Ascending Hierarchy of Attack: From ritual to institutional apex

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar envisioned the Constitution as a path towards both a moral and social revolution. The formal abolition of untouchability was meant not merely to criminalise discrimination but to destroy its social roots. Yet Ambedkar warned in the Constituent Assembly that “political equality” without “social and economic equality” would leave democracy vulnerable to caste hierarchy’s return.

The decades following independence saw significant legislative advances—the Protection of Civil Rights Act (1955), the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act (1989)—but these were accompanied by obdurate police and administrative non-application and followed by a persistent social backlash. Caste privilege adapted: open exclusion gave way to subtler forms of humiliation and violence disguised as defence of “tradition,” “honour,” or “religion.”

The post-2014 political climate added a new layer. In 1999, India had already experienced a glimpse of what was in store to come, when the National Democratic Alliance (in its first form) had the RSS-inspired Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) only as a minority. Yet, following the 2002 Gujarat pogrom, the ghastly lynching of five Dalit men in the village of Dulina, Jhajjar district, Haryana, after being falsely accused of cow slaughter, on October 15, 2002, shook the nation. A spate of such crimes continued and were documented.[2] The complicity of the police and the alleged involvement of far right organisations like the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) was part of the details recorded.

The ascent of cultural majoritarianism, the mainstreaming of “Sanatani” rhetoric, and the weaponisation of social media have together normalised casteist discourse while weakening institutional checks. The result is not the re-emergence of caste, but its reconfiguration through new technologies, idioms, and legitimations.

The analysis of caste violence must recognise its escalating and diversifying trajectory. The attacks are no longer confined solely to remote rural pockets but have ascended a hierarchy of space and institution, moving from localised ritual control to sophisticated psychological control in urban institutions, and finally culminating in explicit political and ideological confrontation with the nation’s highest constitutional offices.

The sheer volume of reported cases underscores the crisis. According to National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) data, in 2023, 57,789 cases of crimes against SCs were registered, a slight 0.4% increase from 57,582 cases in 2022. Looking at a wider period reveals a substantial escalation. A study by the Dalit Human Rights Defenders Network noted a 177.6% rise in crimes against SCs between 1991 and 2021.

This violence is not exclusive to villages; urban centres exhibit alarming rates. As per the statistics, Uttar Pradesh (15,130 cases) reported the highest number of crimes against SCs, followed by Rajasthan (8,449), Madhya Pradesh (8,232), and Bihar (7,064). Despite these statistics, the true incidence is severely underreported. Research suggests that only about 5% of assaults are officially recorded, often due to police indifference, bribery demands, or outright dismissal of complaints, particularly rape reports.

The structural progression of violence can be categorised across distinct spheres, illustrating the systemic nature of exclusion in the modern Republic.

Table 1: Typology of Caste Atrocities: The continuum of humiliation

 Ground Zero: Traditional sites of visceral violence (village to street)

Despite rapid urbanisation, the village remains the most enduring theatre of caste violence. In rural Madhya Pradesh, Dalit families were beaten and their seeds confiscated for cultivating common land (July 2025); in Chhatarpur, twenty families faced social boycott for accepting prasad from a Dalit neighbour (January 2025). Similar patterns appear across Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Bihar.

1. Controlling the Essentials: Land, water, and ritual space

In rural India, the primary mechanisms of caste control revolve around denying access to essential resources and ritual spaces, thereby enforcing physical and ritual segregation. Access to water, a non-negotiable human right, remains violently conditional upon caste status. The case of the 8-year-old Dalit boy in Barmer, Rajasthan, who was severely beaten and hung upside down for touching a water pot intended for upper castes, is a visceral demonstration of this control (September 2025). Similarly, the suicide of the 12-year-old Dalit boy in Himachal Pradesh was a direct consequence of humiliation for trespassing on upper-caste property (October 2025).

Ritual spaces, intended to be public, are often violently guarded to enforce untouchability. Dalits have been barred from offering prayers at a Durga Puja Pandal in Madhya Pradesh (September 2025) and violently assaulted for attempting to enter a temple during a religious procession in Churu, Rajasthan (September 2025). The Madras High Court was recently compelled to intervene and issue instructions to the Tenkasi administration regarding the equitable distribution of water due to persistent caste bias, highlighting how essential services are used as weapons of caste control (July 2025). The requirement for police to guard a Dalit wedding in Gujarat, sometimes using drones, underscores the fragility of civil rights protection when faced with entrenched local hierarchy (May 2025).

2. Policing Dalit Assertion: Rites of passage and mobility

Caste violence is inherently triggered not just by deviation from purity codes but by the assertion of equality and self-respect. This is most vividly manifest in attacks aimed at policing Dalit mobility and rites of passage, particularly wedding processions (baraats).

The act of a Dalit groom riding a horse, traditionally reserved for dominant castes, often leads to violence. Incidents across Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan involve grooms being pulled off their horses and guests being attacked (February 2025). This violence becomes ideologically intensified when Dalit identity is asserted. In Mathura, a Dalit baraat was attacked with stones and sticks after the Thakur community objected to the playing of songs related to Dr. Ambedkar and the Jatav community (July 2025). This deliberate suppression of public visibility and self-respect confirms that the violence is preventative, aimed at suppressing any public display of Dalit parity, thereby revealing the fundamentally anti-democratic nature of caste control.

Furthermore, intimate choices that threaten the integrity of caste endogamy are met with brutal force. Honor killings and extreme violence against inter-caste relationships are widespread. A Dalit youth in Tamil Nadu was hacked to death over an inter-caste relationship, with his girlfriend implicating her own family. In another incident, a Dalit boy in Tamil Nadu was stripped, beaten, and subjected to caste slurs for meeting a Vanniyar girl. (July 2025) The alleged honour killing of a Dalit man in Pune over his marriage to a Maratha woman, characterised by his family as a caste murder, confirms that this policing of reproductive choices transcends the rural-urban divide (February 2025).

3. The geography of forced servitude and political disobedience

Economic empowerment and political participation by Dalits are routinely met with retributive violence designed to re-establish feudal control. Violence often flares up when Dalits refuse forced labour or assert their rights over agricultural resources. In Madhya Pradesh, a Dalit youth was brutally beaten and his house set ablaze for refusing to work as a labourer (August 2025). Other attacks have involved dominant caste men snatching seeds and assaulting Dalit families cultivating their land (June 2025).

The targeting extends explicitly to Dalit political empowerment. A Dalit woman Sarpanch and her husband in Rajasthan were attacked with an axe over disputes regarding MNREGA road work (June 2025). This illustrates that achieving political mobility through constitutional offices is tolerated only as long as it does not challenge the economic and social dominance of local power structures. When a Dalit woman attempts to administer public projects (MNREGA), the challenge to local caste authority is met with physical terror, fundamentally linking economic development to caste subjugation.

The Modern Crucible: Institutionalised discrimination (city to school)

Cities were once imagined as caste’s antithesis—sites of anonymity and merit. Yet attacks on Dalit wedding processions in Agra and Meerut, and stone-pelting during Ambedkar-Jayanti rallies in Rajasthan, show that urbanity merely relocates caste antagonism.

Public celebrations become battlegrounds for visibility. The sight of a Dalit groom on a horse, or the sound of Ambedkarite songs, is treated as provocation. The violence is performative: it polices who may occupy the street, who may celebrate publicly, and which forms of joy are legitimate. In several districts, local authorities have begun escorting Dalit weddings with police and drones—an image at once tragic and telling.

Urban caste violence underscores how modern citizenship collides with inherited status. It also demonstrates the selective nature of state protection: preventive deployment rather than structural reform, treating equality as an event to be managed, not a norm to be lived.

1. The Cost of Merit: Caste in elite academia

Caste discrimination has infiltrated the highest echelons of Indian society, shifting the site of exclusion from the village field to the university lecture hall, resulting in a disturbing incidence of student suicides. Elite educational institutions, far from being meritocratic safe spaces, operate under a constant atmosphere of systemic, psychological violence against marginalised students. This structural violence is enacted through ridicule, ostracism, administrative bias, and academic sabotage.

Between November and December 2025 itself, three deaths of Dalit students across India underscored the lethal intersection of caste discrimination, institutional neglect, and structural exclusion in educational spaces. On November 6, a 19-year-old Dalit student of Deshbandhu College, Delhi University, and sister of JNUSU presidential candidate Raj Ratan Rajoriya, was found dead in her Govindpuri rented flat, with BAPSA alleging grave procedural lapses by the police, absence of medical personnel and female officers, and broader “institutional apathy” by Delhi University, including its failure to provide adequate hostel accommodation for marginalised students, forcing them into unsafe and isolating housing conditions. On November 20, an 18-year-old Dalit student, S Gajini, from Government Arignar Anna Arts College in Villupuram, succumbed to injuries ten days after attempting suicide, allegedly driven by caste-based abuse and assault by men from a dominant caste following a road altercation; despite an FIR under the SC/ST Act, the accused remain unidentified. On December 12, a 17-year-old Dalit student at a DIET institute in Kurnool died by suicide after prolonged distress linked to her struggle with English-medium coursework, highlighting how language barriers, caste location, and lack of institutional academic support continue to disproportionately burden first-generation and marginalised learners.

The environment becomes hostile because of the active weaponisation of meritocracy. Dalit students are frequently taunted as “non-meritorious” or “quota products”. This psychological assault on their intellect and dignity constitutes epistemic violence, a modernised replacement for ritual pollution, turning academic spaces into sites of structural harassment.

Case studies vividly illustrate this pattern:

• Rohith Vemula, 2016 (Hyderabad University)[3]: Vemula’s administrative exclusion, which forced him and four others to sleep in a makeshift “Dalit ghetto,” was recognised by his peers as a modern form of villevarda. While his death sparked a national political movement, the later police closure report attempted to undermine the caste-based motivation by questioning his Scheduled Caste status, thereby reinforcing the pernicious stigma of “fake merit”.
• Darshan Solanki, 2023 (IIT Bombay)[4]: Solanki died by suicide after allegedly facing ostracisation and ridicule from peers for asking basic questions in technical subjects. The institutional response from IIT Bombay, which prematurely denied any caste discrimination before a full inquiry was completed, exemplified institutional denial and refusal to confront endemic caste bias.

This environment of toxic exclusion is responsible for widespread trauma, with reports indicating that 80% of suicides in seven IITs were committed by Dalit students. Furthermore, the bias extends beyond performance, affecting administrative representation. Ten Dalit professors at Bangalore University resigned from their administrative roles, citing discrimination. The perpetuation of this violence reveals a fundamental rigidity: caste acts as a boundary that professional success cannot breach.

Table 2: Manifestations of exclusion in educational institutions

2. Invisible Barriers: Urban exclusion and professional glass ceilings

For Dalits who successfully navigate the hostile academic environment and achieve high professional status, the violence persists, though it adopts subtler, institutionalised forms. This reality demonstrates that economic independence does not translate into the annihilation of caste.

The suicide of Dalit IPS officer Puran Kumar, who questioned unfair promotions and postings, tragically illustrated that rank and wealth do not grant immunity; caste prejudice penetrates the highest echelons of bureaucracy (October 2025). Similarly, a Dalit Assistant Professor at SV Veterinary University was subjected to public humiliation when his chair was allegedly removed, forcing him to perform his duties while sitting on the floor (June 2025).

Discrimination is also structural in the dynamic urban private sector. Research indicates that job applicants with a Dalit name face significant discrimination, having approximately two-thirds the odds of receiving an interview compared to dominant-caste Hindu applicants with equivalent qualifications. This demonstrates that social exclusion is not a rural remnant but is actively practiced in the most modern sectors of the economy. This systemic sabotage of upward mobility means that educational and professional achievements merely shift the form of violence from physical assault to debilitating psychological and institutional harassment.

3. The digitalisation of hate and incitement

The rise of digital media has provided a new, pervasive medium for the normalisation and amplification of caste hatred. Based on a 2019 report by the human rights organisation Equality Labs, caste-based hate speech was found to make up 13% of the hate content reviewed on Facebook India. This digital sphere has facilitated the de facto normalisation of caste-hate speech and is recognised as a medium for oppressing and humiliating Dalits.

This toxic online envionment is actively utilized by right-wing extremist organisations, which have grown in prominence, sometimes using platforms like Instagram to promote hateful content and even fundraising. Major digital platforms demonstrated a historical disregard for addressing this issue, taking years to incorporate “caste” as a protected characteristic in their hate speech policies, and often failing to list it as an option in their reporting forms.

This digital rhetoric creates a climate of ideological validation that can incite physical violence. Harassment campaigns against high-profile Dalit figures, such as the Chief Justice of India, function as a coordinated form of symbolic violence intended to normalise the rejection of constitutional equality and test the boundaries of legal impunity.

The Politicalisation of Caste Warfare: The current regime context

Beyond violence lies symbolic appropriation. Dalit culture—its festivals, songs, and icons—is increasingly commodified or sanitised within a homogenised “Sanatani” narrative. The exclusion of India’s tribal President from the Ram Mandir inauguration exemplifies this politics of selective inclusion: representation without recognition.

In West Bengal, the “vegetarianisation” of Durga Puja since 2019 reflects a subtler transformation. Non-Sanatani groups, including many Dalit and Bahujan communities, are labelled “non-sattvic,” their rituals cast as impure. This recoding of religiosity transforms caste into cultural hierarchy.

At the same time, Ambedkar’s image is everywhere—on posters, statues, and government programmes—yet his emancipatory thought is domesticated. The appropriation of Ambedkar without the politics of equality amounts to symbolic capture: a neutralised memory that conceals continuing oppression.

Cultural exclusion thus performs two contradictory gestures—erasure and incorporation—both of which depoliticise Dalit assertion while reaffirming upper-caste control over meaning.

1. The Rise of Neo-Traditionalism: Sanatana dharma and exclusion

The period following 2014 has been marked by a significant ideological shift, where the ruling party’s emphasis on Hindu nationalism has provided an explicit political and cultural sanction for traditional caste principles. The concept of Sanatana Dharma has become a central ideological tool. Critics argue that this philosophy inherently justifies and maintains the rigid caste hierarchy, contrasting sharply with the constitutional ideals of liberty and equality. Any critique of caste discrimination, such as those made by Udhayanidhi Stalin regarding the system prevalent in Sanatana Dharma, is immediately framed by the dominant political ecosystem as an attack on Hinduism, aimed at polarising the electorate.

This ideological polarisation was directly responsible for the attempted shoe attack on Chief Justice B.R. Gavai (October 2025). The attacker, Rakesh Kishore, specifically shouted, “Sanatan ka apmaan nahi sahenge” (We will not tolerate the insult of Sanatan Dharma). This action linked a perceived anti-Hindu judicial stance (related to the Khajuraho deity ruling) directly to the caste identity of the judge. The incident functioned as an ideological declaration: constitutional morality, when used by a Dalit judge to challenge majoritarian religious claims, is deemed an “insult” that must be violently resisted, placing religious tradition above constitutional law.

2. Selective appropriation of Ambedkar and Hindutva strategy

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and its political affiliates have engaged in a sustained and deliberate political strategy to appropriate the legacy of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, primarily to secure electoral gains and neutralise the profound ideological threat his philosophy poses to the foundational principles of Hindutva.

This strategy involves selectively invoking aspects of Ambedkar’s life, such as his conversion to Buddhism, while simultaneously minimising or ignoring his radical denunciation of Hinduism as being incompatible with democratic values. The attempt is to portray Ambedkar as a “Hindu social reformer” rather than a foundational critic of the caste system, thereby drawing Dalit politics into a unified, but hierarchical, “Hindu” fold. This co-option strategy is further highlighted by political attempts to link Ambedkar to RSS founders, despite historical evidence to the contrary.

The tactical use of Ambedkar’s image is often contradicted by ground realities. For instance, symbolic gestures are performed alongside reported policy failures, such as the denial of scholarships to 3,500 Dalit students in Uttar Pradesh, forcing public condemnation from Dalit leaders (June 2025). This gap between rhetoric and action confirms that the strategy is one of symbolic integration designed to neutralise dissent, rather than a genuine commitment to substantive social justice.

3. Symbolic constitutional exclusion

The pattern of exclusion extends to high constitutional functionaries from marginalised communities. The noticeable absence of President Droupadi Murmu, an Adivasi (Scheduled Tribe) and the constitutional head of state, from the inauguration of the highly politicised Ram Mandir in Ayodhya was widely criticised by opposition leaders, who connected it to her earlier exclusion from the Parliament building inauguration.

Although President Murmu belongs to the Adivasi community, the incident forms part of a larger pattern of ritual exclusion of marginalised constitutional authorities from highly faith-based state functions. The event, serving as a defining moment for the new majoritarian ideology, suggests a reordering of constitutional hierarchy. The exclusion of the head of state, particularly one from a marginalised background, implies that ritual purity and majoritarian religious identity are positioned to supersede constitutional hierarchy and the democratic principle of representation.

The Assault on the Constitutional Apex: Targeting the judiciary

1. The CJI Incident: From judicial remark to caste attack

The attempted shoe attack on Chief Justice of India B.R. Gavai stands as the most explicit act of caste-based political defiance directed at the core institutions of the Republic. The violence was ideologically motivated, following the CJI’s remarks during a hearing about a Vishnu idol in Khajuraho.

The caste dimension was immediately clear. The ideological defence of the attacker, Rakesh Kishore, who invoked Sanatan Dharma, and the support of influential right-wing figures like YouTuber Ajeet Bharti, who called Gavai a “lousy, undeserving judge” and accused him of “anti-Hindu sentiments”, establishes a crucial political point. The attack was not aimed at judicial competence but at the perceived “anti-Sanatan” judicial decision, rooted in the judge’s Dalit identity. This confrontation establishes that challenging ritual caste authority through constitutional interpretation is now publicly deemed an act of ideological treason.

2. Impunity and state response

The response of the state apparatus to the assault and subsequent incitement has set a dangerous precedent of selective justice. The attacker, Rakesh Kishore, was released shortly after questioning because the CJI declined to press charges. Kishore subsequently expressed no remorse for his actions.

Crucially, those who digitally incited further violence were also handled with remarkable leniency. YouTuber Ajeet Bharti, who made provocative remarks about the CJI and allegedly suggested actions such as spitting on the judge, was briefly taken in for questioning by Noida Police but was not arrested and was later released.

This lenient approach towards both the physical attacker and the digital instigator demonstrates a deep political hesitation to punish ideologically driven attacks rooted in majoritarian caste sentiment, even when directed at the highest judicial authority. This establishes a political environment that minimises the gravity of such threats, potentially intimidating the judiciary and compromising its ability to enforce social justice laws without fear of retribution.

Gendered Violence and Custodial Deaths: The deepest layer of impunity

Caste and gender intersect to produce some of India’s most brutal crimes. Dalit women continue to face disproportionate sexual violence, often as retribution for asserting dignity or property rights. Cases from Uttar Pradesh’s Sitapur district (2023) and Madhya Pradesh’s Sidhi forest region (2024) illustrate patterns where rape is both punishment and warning.

Custodial deaths compound the pattern. Dalit men arrested on minor charges have died in custody under suspicious circumstances, their families alleging torture. Investigations are often perfunctory, medical reports delayed, and officers reinstated. Such cases demonstrate how state power fuses with social prejudice, converting constitutional guardians into instruments of caste discipline.

The intersection of caste and gender is absent from mainstream criminal jurisprudence. The law individualises crime; caste violence is collective. Without recognising this collective dimension, justice remains procedural rather than transformative.

Regional Patterns: The southern paradox

Contrary to common perception, official data and recent reportage show high incidence of atrocities in southern states—Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, and Kerala—regions long celebrated for social reform. The Thoothukudi incident (2023) and the string of attacks in Tirunelveli district (over 1,000 cases in five years) reveal both persistence and visibility.

This “southern paradox” has sociological roots: assertive Dalit movements and higher reporting rates coexist with dominant-caste backlash. Greater literacy and media presence ensure documentation but not necessarily deterrence. The violence is thus both a measure of progress (assertion) and of resistance (repression).

The Post-2014 Inflection: Normalisation and silence

The last decade marks a qualitative shift. Three developments stand out:

1. Cultural majoritarianism: The language of “Sanatan Dharma” has become a political grammar through which caste is re-inscribed as divine order. Public discourse valorises hierarchy as heritage.
2. Digital propagation: Organised online ecosystems amplify caste-coded slurs and mobilise outrage with unprecedented speed.
3. Institutional silence: From police stations to ministries, selective inertia signals tacit endorsement. Silence becomes policy.

This triad—rhetoric, technology, and silence—has rendered caste violence socially negotiable. The constitutional ethos of equality competes with a cultural ethos of graded dignity.

The Constitutional Abyss: Implications for the Indian republic

1. The Failure of the SC/ST (PoA) Act: Legal protections as fiction

The rampant escalation of violence highlights the systemic failure of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 (PoA Act). Designed as a potent legal shield, the Act is continually undermined by institutional resistance and poor enforcement, leading to low conviction rates.[5]

Police inaction is endemic; research documents the prevalent practice of police failing to register FIRs or prematurely closing cases through “Final Reports”. Despite the Supreme Court’s, clear directive that FIR registration is mandatory for cognizable offenses, police show a “differential stance” on enforcing the PoA Act compared to other statutes, demonstrating systemic bias in justice delivery.

Moreover, the state apparatus frequently operates as an agent of caste oppression. Incidents include police custody deaths of Dalit individuals, police brutality against a Dalit woman in Haryana, and officers being booked for assaulting a retired Dalit official. This pattern demonstrates that the constitutional mandate to protect Dalits is often betrayed by the very instruments of state power, rendering legal protections fictional.

The SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act 1989 and its 2015 Amendment remain India’s most potent instruments against caste violence, yet enforcement deficits persist. The act mandates immediate FIR registration, establishment of special courts, and protection of victims. Ground reports show chronic under-registration, downgrading of charges, and police bias.

Judicial interpretation oscillates between protection and dilution. The Supreme Court’s 2018 Subhash Kashinath Mahajan judgment introduced safeguards against “false cases,” effectively softening arrest provisions until partially reversed by Parliament. This episode revealed how institutional anxiety about misuse can overshadow concern for victims’ safety.

At stake is not merely criminal justice but constitutional morality—Ambedkar’s phrase for the ethical framework that must animate state action. When police or courts treat caste violence as routine, they erode that morality. The Republic then survives in form but not in substance.

2. The conceptual meaning of exclusion and humiliation

The pervasive violence is structurally maintained through exclusion, which is the combined outcome of deliberate deprivation and systemic discrimination, preventing Dalits from exercising full economic, social, and political rights.

Humiliation serves as a continuous psychological weapon, seeking to deny the basic humanity of the Dalit individual and enforce ritual hierarchy. Whether through being stripped and beaten, forced into humiliating acts, or subjected to taunts questioning their merit, the goal remains the denial of constitutional dignity. Dr. Ambedkar’s formulation established that democracy requires the foundational principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity. The evidence suggests that when Dalits attempt to live a democratic life—by asserting social equality (riding a horse), achieving academic merit (joining an elite institution), or claiming high constitutional office (CJI)—they are met with structural violence and, frequently, death. This structural opposition confirms that the traditional social order fundamentally rejects the core ethical commitments of the Indian Constitutional Republic.

Conclusion: Safeguarding constitutional morality

Philosophers from Avishai Margalit to Axel Honneth define humiliation as the denial of recognition essential to personhood. Caste violence operates precisely through such denial. Its power lies not only in inflicting pain but in publicly authorising inequality. When a Dalit child is beaten for entering a temple, or when a Chief Justice is abused online, the message is continuous: certain bodies remain conditional citizens. Humiliation thus functions as pedagogy—teaching both victim and perpetrator the limits of equality. To counter it requires more than punishment; it requires re-socialisation—a transformation of cultural consciousness that law alone cannot produce.

The investigation into the hierarchy of attacks against Dalits, tracing the violence from ritual control in the village to ideological confrontation at the highest constitutional levels, confirms a severe crisis of constitutional morality in India. The nature of caste warfare has transitioned from covert rural brutality to overt, high-profile ideological confrontations in the urban and judicial spheres. This escalation is profoundly enabled by a political climate that prioritises majoritarian traditionalism over the egalitarian principles of the Constitution. The targeting of a Dalit Chief Justice, sanctioned by ideological rhetoric and met with institutional leniency, signifies that the foundational democratic tenet of equality is now under explicit, active threat.

To address this existential challenge, a set of structural and policy reforms is necessary to transform nominal guarantees into substantive equality:

1. Mandatory and independent police accountability: Legislation must be introduced to mandate the immediate and unconditional registration of FIRs under the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act for all cognizable offenses, coupled with the establishment of independent police accountability commissions with the authority to prosecute officers who violate or fail to enforce the Act.
2. Criminalising institutional caste bias: Stringent anti-discrimination laws, backed by criminal penalties, must be implemented across all educational, corporate, and governmental institutions to address structural and psychological harassment, ending the systemic institutional denial of caste discrimination.
3. Digital accountability for incitement: Robust legal and regulatory measures are necessary to hold social media platforms accountable for the unchecked proliferation of caste-based hate speech and the incitement of violence, recognising it as a direct threat to public order and democratic principles.

The escalation of caste violence against Dalits—from the exclusion of a child from water access to the political assault on the Chief Justice—is a gauge of the Republic’s health. If the judiciary cannot be protected from attacks based on the caste identity of its leader, the entire legal and democratic framework built to secure social justice stands compromised.

More than seventy-five years after independence, the Indian Republic stands at a moral crossroads. Formally, it is a constitutional democracy; substantively, it remains stratified by caste. The incidents chronicled in 2025 itsef—stretching from rural Madhya Pradesh to the Supreme Court’s digital corridors—suggest not an aberration but a continuum.

The question is therefore not whether caste survives, but how the state and society have adapted to its survival. The new architecture of attacks—spanning villages, cities, institutions, and cyberspace—reveals that violence and exclusion now coexist comfortably with democratic form.

Ambedkar warned that “Democracy in India is only a top-dressing on an Indian soil which is essentially undemocratic.” The task ahead is to deepen the soil—to cultivate a culture where dignity is not negotiable, where equality is not episodic, and where the law’s promise finally becomes social reality. Until then, every assault on a Dalit body, image, or word remains an assault on the Constitution itself.

References

Indian colleges are hotbeds of casteism. How can they do better? – The News Minute https://www.thenewsminute.com/news/indian-colleges-are-hotbeds-casteism-how-can-they-do-better-176683

Caste and the Dalits: An Introduction – Global Ministries https://www.globalministries.org/resource/caste-and-the-dalits-an-introduction/

A clash of ideologies: Why Ambedkar and Hindutva are poles apart – The Polity https://thepolity.co.in/article/173

Hate Speech against Dalits on Social Media – Brandeis Library Open Access Journals https://journals.library.brandeis.edu/index.php/caste/article/download/260/61/1048

View of Hate Speech against Dalits on Social Media: Would a Penny Sparrow be Prosecuted in India for Online Hate Speech? https://journals.library.brandeis.edu/index.php/caste/article/view/260/61

Caste-hate speech – International Dalit Solidarity Network
https://idsn.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Caste-hate-speech-report-IDSN-2021.pdf

Atrocities on Dalits in Contemporary India Even After 75 Years of Indian Independence https://ijfans.org/uploads/paper/5af7bf7ae1851636fe726333533b1c8b.pdf

Dalit scholar’s protest exposes casteism in India’s higher education – FairPlanet https://www.fairplanet.org/story/dalit-scholars-protest-exposes-casteism-in-indias-higher-education/

IIT-Bombay Dalit student death | Senior says Darshan Solanki felt alienated by roommate, https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/iit-bombay-dalit-student-death-senior-says-darshan-solanki-felt-alienated-by-roommate/article66611752.ece

Attack on CJI: Union MoS Athawale seeks SC/ST Act charges as BJP does a tightrope walk https://indianexpress.com/article/political-pulse/shoe-attack-cji-mos-athawale-sc-st-act-bjp-10298249/

Ram Mandir Invitation: NCP Leader Raises Concerns about Draupadi Murmu’s Exclusion,

https://www.epw.in/engage/article/rohith-vemula-foregrounding-caste-oppression#:~:text=Between%202016%20and%202021%20itself,death%20sparked%20a%20political%20movement.

Rohith Vemula: Foregrounding Caste Oppression in Indian Higher Education Institutions, https://www.epw.in/engage/article/rohith-vemula-foregrounding-caste-oppression

IIT Student Suicides: Curse Of Caste On Campus? | Left, Right & Centre – YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhDhIhQiRWQ

How many lives will it take before India acknowledges dominant caste hegemony in educational institutes? – Citizens for Justice and Peace
https://cjp.org.in/how-many-lives-will-it-take-before-india-acknowledges-dominant-caste-hegemony-in-educational-institutes/

India’s caste system: ‘They are trying to erase dalit history. This is a martyrdom, a sacrifice’ https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/jan/24/student-suicide-untouchables-stuggle-for-justice-india

Suicide by Dalit students in 4 years – The Hindu https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Madurai/suicide-by-dalit-students-in-4-years/article2425965.ece

Unveiling The Tragic Link: Caste Discrimination And Suicides In Higher Education https://theprobe.in/stories/unveiling-the-tragic-link-caste-discrimination-and-suicides-in-higher-education/

Urban Labour Market Discrimination – GSDRC
https://gsdrc.org/document-library/urban-labour-market-discrimination/

Indian women, Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims face discrimination in earnings and jobs: Oxfam report https://www.newindianexpress.com/nation/2022/Sep/15/indian-women-dalits-adivasis-muslims-face-discrimination-in-earnings-and-jobs-oxfam-report-2498476.html

An Introduction to Right-Wing Extremism in India – ScholarWorks at UMass Boston, https://scholarworks.umb.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1809&context=nejpp

For far-right groups in India, Instagram has become a place to promote violence, report shows – PBS
https://www.pbs.org/newshour/world/for-far-right-groups-in-india-instagram-has-become-a-place-to-promote-violence-report-shows

Online caste-hate speech: Pervasive discrimination and humiliation on social media, https://teaching.globalfreedomofexpression.columbia.edu/resources/online-caste-hate-speech-pervasive-discrimination-and-humiliation-social-media

Udayanidhi Stalin’s Critique of Sanatana Dharma – Two Articles – Janata Weekly
https://janataweekly.org/udayanidhi-stalins-critique-of-sanatana-dharma-two-articles/

The Eternal Discrimination Of Sanatana Dharma – Madras Courier, https://madrascourier.com/opinion/the-eternal-discrimination-of-sanatana-dharma/

Dr.Ambedkar, Sanatan Dharma and Dalit Politics – Countercurrents, https://countercurrents.org/2023/09/dr-ambedkar-sanatan-dharma-and-dalit-politics/

(PDF) The attack on the CJI and the shadow of caste – ResearchGate https://www.researchgate.net/publication/396310357_The_attack_on_the_CJI_and_the_shadow_of_caste

Right-wing influencer Ajeet Bharti faces scrutiny online after ‘shoe attack’ on CJI Gavai, https://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/after-shoe-attack-on-cji-right-wing-youtuber-ajeet-bharti-faces-scrutiny-online-101759830247046.html

RSS and Ambedkar: A Camaraderie That Never Existed – Janata Weekly, https://janataweekly.org/rss-and-ambedkar-a-camaraderie-that-never-existed/

From criticism to praise: How RSS changed stance on Ambedkar – Deccan Herald, https://www.deccanherald.com/india/from-criticism-to-praise-how-rss-changed-stance-on-ambedkar-3492843

Appropriating Ambedkar: Effort to merge Left and Ambedkarite politics – The Hindu, https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/lead/appropriating-ambedkar-effort-to-merge-left-and-ambedkarite-politics/article8500076.ece

RSS At 100 And The Philosophy Of A Nation’s Unmaking – OpEd – Eurasia Review, https://www.eurasiareview.com/08102025-rss-at-100-and-the-philosophy-of-a-nations-unmaking-oped/

Who Is Ajeet Bharti? YouTuber Questioned After Controversial Comments On CJI Shoe Attack https://zeenews.india.com/india/who-is-ajeet-bharti-youtuber-questioned-after-controversial-comments-on-cji-shoe-attack-2969348.html

Why did Noida Police question Ajeet Bharti? What he commented on CJI BR Gavai after ‘shoe attack’ | Latest News India – Hindustan Times
https://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/why-did-noida-police-question-ajeet-bharti-what-he-commented-on-cji-br-gavai-after-shoe-attack-101759894807122.html

Prof Abhay Dubey on Ajit Bharti Arrested for Inciting Violence Against CJI Gavai after Shoes Hurled – YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqpJ8s7HZhk

YouTuber Ajeet Bharti Taken in for Questioning After Remarks on CJI Shoe Incident, Released Later – LawBeat
https://lawbeat.in/news-updates/youtuber-ajeet-bharti-taken-in-for-questioning-after-remarks-on-cji-shoe-incident-released-later-1533340

‘Final Reports’ under Sec-498A and the SC/ST Atrocities Act | Economic and Political Weekly, https://www.epw.in/journal/2014/41/commentary/final-reports-under-sec-498a-and-scst-atrocities-act.html

Dalits and Social Exclusion: An Overview – International Journal of Science and Research (IJSR)
https://www.ijsr.net/archive/v8i7/ART20199584.pdf

India Exclusion Report 2013-2014 – Selected caste extracts
https://idsn.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/India-Exclusion-Report-2013-Selected-caste-extracts.pdf

The Death of a Dalit in a Democracy – Caste – The India Forum, https://www.theindiaforum.in/caste/death-dalit-democracy

[1] This body of work is also a major source for stories and protest songs (Qawwali) that focus on anti-caste movements and give voice to Dalit struggles wherein the broom and pot would be consistent imagery for this protest tradition.

[2] https://www.hrw.org/reports/2007/india0207/6.htm; https://frontline.thehindu.com/social-issues/article30193600.ece#:~:text=IN%20one%20of%20the%20most,presence%20of%20scores%20of%20onlookers.

[3] https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/we-all-failed-rohith/

[4] https://cjp.org.in/iit-mumbai-report-on-darshan-solanki-death-crucial-evidence-overlooked/

[5] https://sabrang.com/cc/archive/2005/mar05/cover.html

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