Dalit Bahujan Adivasi | SabrangIndia https://sabrangindia.in/category/hate-harmony/dalit-bahujan-adivasi/ News Related to Human Rights Wed, 07 Oct 2026 08:54:13 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.2.2 https://sabrangindia.in/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Favicon_0.png Dalit Bahujan Adivasi | SabrangIndia https://sabrangindia.in/category/hate-harmony/dalit-bahujan-adivasi/ 32 32 Police detain Adivasi students for second day, force them out of Mumbai https://sabrangindia.in/police-detain-adivasi-students-for-second-day-force-them-out-of-mumbai/ Wed, 07 Oct 2026 08:54:13 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49568 Students who marched from Nashik are denied Azad Maidan protest, prevented from leaving Tilak Bhavan and forcefully transported out of the city

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]]> Adivasi students who marched from Nashik to Mumbai demanding accountability over deaths, unsafe conditions and inadequate facilities in tribal schools and hostels were detained for a second consecutive day on Tuesday, October 6, and forcibly taken out of the city, after police prevented them from leaving the Maharashtra Congress headquarters at Tilak Bhavan. The students had been staying at the Congress office after being denied permission to hold their protest at Azad Maidan.

 

According to Hindustan Times, police personnel deployed outside Tilak Bhavan stopped the students from leaving on Tuesday morning before private buses were brought in and the protesters were made to board them. The students continued raising slogans against the Maharashtra government as they were transported out of Mumbai. NSUI state president Sagar Salunke said the students were taken to different locations, including Jalgaon, Nandurbar and Nashik. The Indian Express also reported videos of the operation showing police personnel pushing protesters towards buses, including a woman carrying an infant.

The students had begun their September 28 march from Nashik to Mumbai, after weeks of agitation over conditions in tribal schools and hostels. Their demands include an independent inquiry into deaths at state-run ashram schools, compensation of ₹1 crore each to the families of three girls who died after alleged snakebite at an ashram school in Japtalai, Gadchiroli, ₹50 lakh compensation for those injured, an inquiry into alleged irregularities in the distribution of grants, action against responsible officials and the resignation of Tribal Development Minister Ashok Uike. They have also raised concerns over scholarships, food, sanitation, hostel facilities and basic amenities.

The students had sought permission to protest at Azad Maidan. After that request was rejected, they sought to meet Maharashtra Governor Jishnu Dev Varma and submit a memorandum. Instead, they found themselves confined to the Congress office and subjected to police action for the second day in a row. On Monday, police had already forcefully moved students out of Tilak Bhavan and taken them towards Kopri in Thane after shifting them between vehicles and stopping at multiple locations. On Tuesday, the operation took place at the Congress headquarters itself.

Maharashtra Congress president Harshvardhan Sapkal condemned the action, saying the government had denied Adivasi students even the basic democratic right to protest and meet the Governor. Congress leaders also alleged that police behaved abusively towards women students and used force to break up the protest. Congress general secretary Jairam Ramesh had earlier described the Maharashtra government as “Adivasi-virodhi” over the police action.

The police, meanwhile, have denied that students were arrested from Tilak Bhavan. As reported by The Indian Express, police said those attempting to proceed towards Lok Bhavan were detained from different locations and that legal action was being taken. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has also claimed that the students’ demands have been accepted, alleging that the continuing agitation was being driven by some NSUI office-bearers rather than the students themselves.

But the students themselves have rejected any suggestion that the issue is over. Before being driven out of Mumbai, they announced that they would return on October 25 and resume their protest at Azad Maidan.

The episode exposes the stark gap between the government’s claim that the students’ demands have been resolved and the reality of students having to march hundreds of kilometres to Mumbai, seek a hearing from the state’s highest authorities, and then face police action instead of an open response to their grievances. Their demands concern not abstract policy questions, but the safety, dignity and lives of Adivasi students in institutions run by the state.

The government may claim the demands have been accepted. The students’ continued resistance, and their determination to return, suggest otherwise.

 

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]]> From Nashik to Mumbai: Adivasi students’ protest meets police detentions https://sabrangindia.in/from-nashik-to-mumbai-adivasi-students-protest-meets-police-detentions/ Tue, 06 Oct 2026 09:19:20 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49545 Weeks of agitation over tribal hostels and schools culminate in alleged detention of protesters ahead of planned Azad Maidan march

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]]> Adivasi students who marched from Nashik to Mumbai demanding accountability over the state of tribal schools and hostels were allegedly detained by police in the early hours of Monday, October 5, before they could hold a planned protest at Azad Maidan. The students have been protesting for weeks over scholarships, inadequate food and basic amenities in government-run ashram schools and hostels, student safety, and an independent inquiry into deaths in tribal institutions. They are also demanding the resignation of Tribal Development Minister Ashok Uike and the department’s commissioner. The Indian Express reported that the students had first staged a month-long agitation in Nashik and that at least 30 protesters were allegedly detained during their march towards Mumbai.

The students travelled to Mumbai by bus and on foot after seeking permission to protest at Azad Maidan. According to the Times of India, the students said they had received no response to their request for permission and, having nowhere to stay in Mumbai, were accommodated overnight at the Maharashtra Congress headquarters, Tilak Bhavan, in Dadar.

The Congress alleged that police action began around midnight, with personnel entering or attempting to enter Tilak Bhavan and threatening students with detention and police cases. Maharashtra Congress president Harshvardhan Sapkal claimed that students, including women, were taken into custody and that police also detained NSUI functionaries. The report by Hindustan Times provided that the party further alleged that students were stopped around 3 a.m., photographed and that a bus carrying protesters was taken into custody.

The reported police action has drawn strong criticism from Congress leaders. Congress general secretary Jairam Ramesh called the Maharashtra government “Adivasi-virodhi”, while Sapkal warned that Congress leaders would gherao Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis’ official residence, Varsha, if the detained students and party workers were not released. Leader of Opposition and Congress leader Rahul Gandhi also criticised the government over the treatment of the protesting students.

 

The allegations have been disputed by the Mumbai Police. As reported by Times of India, DCP Manish Kalwaniya said that no one was arrested from Tilak Bhavan and that protesters who were planning to march towards Lok Bhavan, the Governor’s official residence, were detained from different locations. Police said legal action was being taken against those participating in the proposed march.

The confrontation comes against the backdrop of a larger dispute over the safety, dignity and living conditions of students in Maharashtra’s tribal residential education system. The students’ demands extend beyond scholarships to basic facilities, food, sanitation, medical care and accountability for deaths and injuries in hostels and ashram schools. After weeks of protest in Nashik, their decision to march to Mumbai was an attempt to press the state government directly on these unresolved grievances.

There were also accusations of women protestors being detained and denied access to food or washrooms, and being driven around the city with no breaks.

The contrast with the treatment of the Cockroach Janta Party’s protest just days earlier is striking. On October 2, the CJP went ahead with a large gathering at Mumbai’s Shivaji Park despite Mumbai Police having denied permission. Hundreds, and according to reports thousands, gathered at the venue, even as police deployed around 500 personnel. The protest proceeded, with participants publicly demanding the resignation of Chief Election Commissioner Gyanesh Kumar. The police subsequently registered an FIR against the organisers and 400–500 unidentified persons, but there were no reports of a comparable midnight operation to prevent protesters from assembling in the first place.

The Adivasi students, by contrast, were stopped before they could reach their proposed protest site. Having marched from Nashik to Mumbai to raise demands concerning scholarships, hostel conditions, food, safety and accountability for deaths in tribal institutions, they were detained from different locations, while Congress alleged that police entered party offices where students had taken shelter. Mumbai Police has disputed the allegation of arrests from the Congress office and said those planning to march towards Lok Bhavan were detained.

The difference raises an uncomfortable question about how the right to protest is being enforced in Maharashtra: why was a large, unauthorised political protest allowed to proceed and dealt with through a subsequent FIR, while Adivasi students who had travelled hundreds of kilometres to press demands over basic educational and living conditions faced preventive detention before their protest could even begin? The contrast is particularly stark when the students’ demands concern their fundamental access to dignity, education and safe living conditions.

 

Related:

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‘Solidarity Is Not a Crime’: Mumbai activists protest alleged police harassment over Palestine event

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]]> From caste to race: Reading ‘Black & Buddhist’ through an Indian lens https://sabrangindia.in/from-caste-to-race-reading-black-buddhist-through-an-indian-lens/ Thu, 24 Sep 2026 11:37:21 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49457 A few days ago, while visiting a local library in a relatively small town on the eastern coast of the United States, the person who took me there asked if I wished to borrow a book. I looked around. While I couldn’t find much that immediately connected with me, one book seemed of particular interest: Black […]

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]]> A few days ago, while visiting a local library in a relatively small town on the eastern coast of the United States, the person who took me there asked if I wished to borrow a book. I looked around. While I couldn’t find much that immediately connected with me, one book seemed of particular interest: Black & Buddhist.

An African American interpretation of Buddhism, it is a collection of articles by scholars and Buddhist activists who, writing from their personal experiences of racial exclusion, explore “trauma, belonging, healing, and transformation,” even as they “wrestle with their suffering.”

Subtitled Buddhism Can Teach Us about Race, Resilience, Transformation & Freedom, the book prompted a thought even as I carried it in my hand: if Dalits in India have been embracing Buddhism in large numbers, why wouldn’t Black Americans do the same, given that they, too, have experienced a qualitatively similar form of discrimination?

Even before I began reading the book, which was published in 2020, I sought to find out what percentage of Americans are Buddhists and, of these, how many are Black. This is what I found: Buddhists represent approximately 1.0% to 1.3% of the U.S. population, or about 3.5 to 4.4 million people. A majority are of Asian descent—roughly 60% to 67%—while about a quarter to one-third are White.

As for Black Americans, they make up roughly 3% of all Buddhists in the United States. And within the broader Black American population, less than 0.5% identify as Buddhist. Yet, from my personal interactions in the United States, I have found that Buddhist cultural presence, visibility, and affinity appear to be growing rapidly.

Someone I know intimately is by no stretch of the imagination a Buddhist. Yet he is among the millions living in America who identify as Christian, Jewish, Hindu, or “spiritual but not religious,” while regularly practising Buddhist meditation or adopting aspects of Buddhist philosophy. Not without reason, according to one source, the absolute number of Buddhist practitioners in the United States grew by more than 20% between 2010 and 2020.

Yet, as far as Black Americans are concerned, they haven’t gone the Dalit way.

Buddhists in India may make up a minuscule 0.7% to 0.8% of the country’s population, or about 8.4 million people, but a vast majority of them are Dalits—around 85% to 90%.

In all likelihood, many of them followed their icon, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, who publicly converted to Buddhism at the fag end of his life—in October 1956, just two months before his death in December 1956—after concluding that the caste hierarchy and the practice of “untouchability” were inextricably embedded in orthodox Hindu scriptures.

Returning to Black & Buddhist, I couldn’t find any direct reference to Ambedkar or Dalits in its chapters. This could be because the anthology’s primary focus is specifically on the African American and Black diaspora experience in the United States, examining intergenerational trauma, white supremacy, capitalism, and the distinctive resilience of Black Buddhist practitioners in America.

However, in the book’s introduction, the two editors, Pamela Ayo Yetunde and Cheryl A. Giles, explicitly name “caste designations” alongside racism, sexism, white supremacy, imperialism, and colonialism as inherent, exploitative features of the capitalist system that Buddhism must actively confront.

There is, of course, a critique of Mahatma Gandhi by one of the contributors, Sebene Selassie, similar to what some Indian Dalit intellectuals, as well as the well-known litterateur Arundhati Roy, have been saying.

Selassie writes: “When (Gandhi) was living in South Africa as a young lawyer, his stance on anti-Black racism was well-defined and expressed: he believed Indians and whites to be part of an Aryan brotherhood and inherently superior to Black people, which was not an uncommon stance of Indians living there at the time.”

I didn’t expect Selassie to go on to examine whether Gandhi changed his views thereafter.

But let me turn to the book now.

Each of the eight contributors—Cheryl A. Giles, Lama Rod Owens, Sebene Selassie, Lama Dawa Tarchin Phillips, Pamela Ayo Yetunde, Gyozan Royce Andrew Johnson, Kamilah Majied, and Ruth King—gives graphic details of the suffering and trauma they have experienced, which led them to adopt the Buddhist way of life as a way out.

They go on to conceptualize Buddhism by identifying the paths they believe have helped them overcome their suffering: Right View, Right Mindfulness, Right Intention, Right Livelihood, Right Concentration, Right Action, Right Speech, and Right Effort.

Given this framework, what appeared particularly interesting to me was the way the book looks at capitalism.

While pointing out that in the capitalist society in which they live there is “creativity and freedom,” the book also underscores—and let me quote here—that the system leads to “exploitation, poverty, classism, caste designations, racism, sexism (and other ‘isms’ related to sex and gender), ageism, white supremacy, human supremacy, imperialism, and colonialism.”

Further, capitalism “allows for shortened lifespans for poor people due to chronic stress, hunger, thirst, and treatable but untreated diseases.”

This is quite close to the Marxian analysis—something the powers-that-be in the United States would perhaps detest from the bottom of their hearts.

A closer look, however, suggested that it is nowhere near the typical Communist way of thinking—the proletariat versus the capitalists.

One of the solutions offered is “Right Action.”

The book wonders: “A question Black Buddhists ponder is ‘What is Right Action when confronted by a violent racist?’ Our actions are not just about our own self-preservation but”—and here I paused—“also about the well-being of those around us, including violent perpetrators.”

It says that Black actions, from a Buddhist perspective, should lead to “domino effects and we vow not to become oppressors even while being oppressed.” Insisting that “hatred does not transform hatred” and “only love does that,” it underscores the importance of responding without reproducing the very violence one is confronting.

Quite Gandhian, I thought.

Further: “Right Action, at its core, is love. Love in Right Action applies to everything we do, including our hobbies, vocations, work, and activism. Right Action is necessary in the economic system we live in.”

And how does one observe “Right Livelihood” in a capitalist setup?

Not by rebelling against the system, but by ensuring that one does not make “money in a way that harms others.” In fact, one must live as “spiritually integrated, nonexploitative, generous, and constructive human beings” by beginning with “examining if and how greed operates in our lives.”

The book warns: “Capitalism can breed greed if we have the wrong view that possessing a multitude of things, or having much more money than we need, brings real security and real joy.”

Here, it cites “studies in the US” to argue that “being rich does not make one happy and does not promote mental, emotional, or psychological security.”

Regretting that Black people have “been the objects of capitalism and exploited as property,” the book says that, through the generations, they “have created a collective psychological defense against the vulnerability of being seen as financially insecure.”

The result is that “some of us have come to value things that don’t bring lasting joy.”

Often, “a large home, a luxury car, precious gems and metals, and expensive designer clothing, and paying for these things through doing work that exploits, maims, causes addictions, or kills others” are considered “symbols of success,” feeding the delusion “that being wealthy or appearing to be wealthy protects Black people from exploitation.”

The book believes: “Right Livelihood promotes safety, truth, nonharming, and constructive enterprises. Right Livelihood is not the pursuit of greed and has no interest in impressing others with material excess.”

It adds: “It is not a way to demonstrate economic viability or invulnerability. It can be used as a springboard to create economic alternatives within the system in which we find ourselves. Right Livelihood is certainly a fitting description for Right and Noble anti-racism activism…”

And how does one achieve Right Action and Right Livelihood?

The answer the authors offer is through Right Concentration.

“Supported” by experienced meditation teachers and students, one can undertake “meditation retreats” for this purpose. But here, they warn, one must be selective. One should check whether the retreat centre would be in a position to support participants during what could be an emotionally and mentally vulnerable period.

The book underlines: “Long meditation retreats evoke mental and emotional vulnerability because returning to one’s object of meditation over and over again can trigger trauma.”

But this “should not be taken to mean that meditation is not right… The real questions are these: What type of meditation retreat is appropriate? How long? How often? To what end?”

Why would an African American anti-racism activist want to experience Right Concentration?

By committing to “cultivating peace of mind and peace of body as we struggle for liberation”; by helping each other so that “our collective souls and collective selves may be nourished for generations of communities to come.”

Right Concentration, the book believes, would help one know one’s “traumatized history, without the constructs of race, ethnicity, gender, and religion and without preferences and desires, fears and terrors, anger and rage—imagine how much freedom there may be.”

“We would come out of that experience knowing ourselves as part of the Universal Renaissance in Black Self-Knowledge…”

All this would have to be done, says the book, at a time when, in the United States, one often hears African Americans being told: “Go back to Africa where you belong!”

It says: “Black belonging has always been contested in the United States and we are now being asked to support the exclusion of Brown people at our borders, Black people from African countries, and the Muslim world which is largely populated by people of color.”

This, the book argues, ought to be overcome through “benefactor practice,” which “weaves together the threads of ancestral myth, memory, and connection with others, all of which may be modes of healing intergenerational trauma that lives in our bodies.”

It says: “Integrating these threads is a lifelong process that can be supported by bringing our benefactors into our meditation practice. We know trauma lives in the body. We carry it every day. Trauma cannot be buried, ignored, pushed aside, or denied. As long as we breathe, trauma reminds us it is with us and rises to the surface. Transforming trauma means being willing to address it in our lives.”

“In other words,” the book argues, “being Black-identified does not mean that I am also anger-identified. To be Black has come with significant woundedness and trauma from having to survive a white supremacist culture as well as having to hold the transhistorical trauma of (the) ancestors who also survived the same trauma and passed it on unknowingly” to the next generation.

Yet, through meditation practice, one can experience “Blackness” as something “based upon resiliency, community, deep joy in the face of violence, and a profound gratitude” for Black culture, “which continues to transform marginalization into celebration.”

Courtesy: CounterView

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]]> Three years after Darshan Solanki, Sahil Wakode’s death shows IIT Bombay still has no answer on caste, power and student deaths https://sabrangindia.in/three-years-after-darshan-solanki-sahil-wakodes-death-shows-iit-bombay-still-has-no-answer-on-caste-power-and-student-deaths/ Tue, 22 Sep 2026 11:39:20 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49416 The second-year student died hours after a mid-semester examination; his family alleges caste-based harassment, while the professor named in the FIR continues as faculty despite being removed as Dean

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]]> Sahil Ravindra Wakode, a second-year BTech student of Energy Science and Engineering at IIT Bombay, died by suicide on September 18, hours after appearing for a mid-semester examination. According to The Indian Express, Wakode’s parents subsequently alleged that their son had been subjected to caste-based discrimination and harassment and named Professor Suryanarayana Doolla and others in their complaint. The Mumbai Police registered an FIR invoking Section 108 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, concerning abetment of suicide, along with provisions of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act. The investigation was subsequently transferred to the Mumbai Crime Branch.

The circumstances immediately preceding his death have become a central part of the investigation. Doolla was reportedly the invigilator during Wakode’s examination and, according to the institute’s initial account (later regretfully denied by IIT Mumbai), Wakode had been found using a mobile phone and had uploaded the examination question paper to ChatGPT to obtain answers. IIT Bombay initially stated that no disciplinary action had been initiated against him and that he had been counselled by the concerned faculty members.

But that account quickly became contested. Students and Wakode’s family alleged that the incident involved threats of disciplinary action and suspension and that Wakode had been humiliated. The Indian Express has since reported that Crime Branch investigators are examining CCTV footage from the examination hall showing Doolla approaching Wakode and asking him to leave the hall. The footage is now part of an investigation that is attempting to reconstruct what happened between the examination and Wakode’s death.

IIT Bombay suicide: Sahil Wakode and the caste question - Frontline
Image: PTI

What remains equally important is what happened before September 18. Wakode’s family has alleged that the examination incident was not an isolated interaction but occurred against the backdrop of months of caste-based and mental harassment. Those allegations have not been established, and the Crime Branch investigation must determine whether they are supported by witness statements, communications, institutional records and other evidence. But the absence of a prior formal complaint cannot, by itself, be treated as proof that discrimination did not occur.

 

The apology came only after the institution had already framed the story

The most troubling aspect of IIT Bombay’s handling of the matter may be the speed with which the institution initially presented a particular account of Wakode’s final hours. Its first public communication foregrounded the alleged use of a phone during the examination and the uploading of the question paper on ChatGPT. That communication effectively placed an allegation of academic misconduct at the centre of the public narrative before the circumstances surrounding the death had been independently established.

On September 21, however, IIT Bombay apologised and acknowledged that it had been inappropriate to set out or characterise details relating to the events preceding Wakode’s death before they had been established through the appropriate investigative process. The Times of India reported that the institute apologised for its earlier communication concerning the examination incident, while The Indian Express reported that students had specifically demanded an apology over what they described as the “defamation” of Wakode.

That reversal matters as the question was not whether academic misconduct should be taken seriously. It should. The question is whether, when a student dies hours after an interaction with institutional authority, the first responsibility of the institution should be to establish facts carefully rather than to publicly foreground an allegation that potentially shifts attention towards the student’s conduct.

The institute itself has now acknowledged that the circumstances had not yet been duly established. That acknowledgment should also invite scrutiny of how institutions speak about students after their deaths, particularly when those students belong to communities that have historically experienced discrimination within educational institutions.

Doolla has been removed as Dean. But only as Dean

IIT Bombay has temporarily relieved Professor Suryanarayana Doolla of his duties as Dean of Administrative Affairs pending an investigation. But, as The New Indian Express reported, Doolla continues to remain a professor in the Energy Science and Engineering department. The Times of India similarly reported that the action was limited to his administrative responsibilities and that he would continue as a professor.

This distinction is important because students had demanded that Doolla be removed from his academic duties as well. Their concern was not necessarily a demand that the professor be treated as guilty before investigation, but that a person named in an FIR concerning the death of a student should not continue exercising academic authority over students while the circumstances are being investigated.

The institute has justified his removal from the administrative post as a step intended to ensure an independent and unbiased investigation. That is understandable as an institutional measure. But it also leaves an obvious question: if independence from administrative authority is necessary for the inquiry, what safeguards are in place to ensure that students who may have information relevant to the investigation do not feel vulnerable when the professor continues to teach and exercise academic authority?

The FIR is not the investigation. But neither is institutional denial

The FIR records allegations made by Wakode’s family. The Crime Branch investigation must determine what happened, whether there was sustained harassment, whether caste-based discrimination occurred, whether any conduct contributed to Wakode’s distress, and whether any institutional response failed him. At the same time, IIT Bombay’s statement that no complaint had previously been made to its SC/ST cell or administration cannot settle the question either. The Indian Express reported that the institute relied on the absence of any such formal complaint when responding to the family’s allegations.

Caste discrimination does not necessarily announce itself through a formal written complaint. Students may hesitate to complain against professors who control grades, academic progression, recommendations or other aspects of university life. The possibility of retaliation, stigma or simply the belief that an institution will not act can itself become a barrier to reporting. That is precisely why an investigation into allegations of discrimination cannot be reduced to a search for whether a complaint was filed in the correct institutional forum.

What exactly is IIT Bombay defending?

The response from sections of the IIT Bombay faculty has introduced another dimension to the controversy. The Faculty Forum of IIT Bombay publicly expressed solidarity with Doolla, saying that he had been discharging his duties according to institute-approved academic procedures and that the faculty was distressed by what it described as the tarnishing of his reputation. The Indian Express reported that faculty members gathered in support of Doolla after he was removed as Dean, while faculty bodies at other IITs also expressed support for him.

There is nothing inherently improper about insisting upon due process or resisting a presumption of guilt. But due process cannot mean that institutional solidarity with a faculty member becomes a substitute for investigating allegations made by a student’s family. The two principles can coexist. Doolla is entitled to a fair investigation and should not be declared guilty merely because he has been named in an FIR. At the same time, Wakode’s family is entitled to have allegations of caste-based harassment and institutional failure investigated seriously, independently and without the investigation being overshadowed by a defence of the professor’s professional reputation.

The concern becomes particularly acute when the institution itself had initially issued a public account that it later apologised for.

This is not the first IIT Bombay student death to raise questions about caste

The most difficult part of the present controversy is that IIT Bombay cannot claim to be encountering these questions for the first time. In February 2023, Dalit student Darshan Solanki died by suicide at IIT Bombay. His death generated allegations of caste discrimination and intense campus debate over whether students from marginalised communities were adequately protected within the institution.

Three years later, Solanki’s father, Ramesh Solanki, has returned to the IIT Bombay campus in connection with protests following Wakode’s death. The Indian Express reported that parents of previous IIT Bombay suicide victims joined the protests and raised concerns about transparency, accountability, discrimination and the treatment of students from reserved communities. Ramesh Solanki reportedly continues to question aspects of the investigation into his son’s death.

The significance of Darshan Solanki therefore cannot simply be historical. His death forms part of the institutional memory against which the present case is unfolding. The question now is not only what happened to Sahil Wakode. It is also what IIT Bombay learnt from Darshan Solanki’s death, what institutional mechanisms were changed afterwards, and whether those mechanisms could identify and address the forms of exclusion that students may experience without ever making a formal complaint.

Demonstrators at IIT-Bombay pay tribute to the deceased student on September 21, 2026.
Demonstrators at IIT-Bombay pay tribute to the deceased student on September 21, 2026. | Image Credit: PTI

And then there are the other deaths

Wakode’s death has also occurred amid wider concerns over student suicides at IIT Bombay. Reports have referred to other student deaths this year, adding to the sense among students and parents that the problem cannot be treated as a single tragic incident. Moneycontrol, reporting on the aftermath of Wakode’s death, noted that the episode had once again brought student suicides at premier engineering institutions into focus. The protests at IIT Bombay have consequently expanded beyond the circumstances of one student’s death to include demands relating to mental-health support, institutional accountability and student welfare.

This is important because individualising every death can prevent institutions from examining common structural conditions. If students repeatedly experience academic pressure, fear of disciplinary action, inadequate grievance mechanisms, social isolation or discrimination, then treating each death as an entirely separate personal tragedy leaves the institutional environment itself largely unexamined.

The 18 demands show how much larger the crisis has become

The student protests have made clear that the controversy is no longer limited to the question of what happened inside one examination hall. According to The Indian Express, students placed an 18-point charter before the IIT Bombay administration. Their demands included an independent inquiry, changes to student welfare mechanisms, student representation on committees, a formal mechanism for complaints against professors, greater accountability of institutional authorities and stronger mental-health support, including access to psychiatric care.

These demands matter because they reveal what students themselves see as the larger problem. They are not asking only for an answer about September 18. They are questioning how decisions affecting students are made, who exercises authority over them, what happens when a student has a complaint against a professor, and whether students have any meaningful role in institutions that make decisions about their academic and personal lives.

An institution can have rules on paper and still leave students without meaningful protection if those rules are difficult to invoke against powerful members of the faculty.

The protests have also brought the role of IIT Bombay Director Professor Shireesh Kedare under scrutiny. Students demanded his resignation as part of their broader charter. Reports also emerged suggesting that he had agreed to resign, although IIT Bombay subsequently denied that he had stepped down.

A campus divided between solidarity and accountability

The response to the protests has also raised questions about how dissent is being handled around the campus. The Indian Express reported that police detained activists from different organisations who were protesting outside the IIT Bombay campus. Ramesh Solanki, whose son Darshan died in 2023, was among those participating in the protest and seeking accountability over the earlier case.

The present situation has produced an uncomfortable divide. Faculty groups have rallied around Doolla and emphasised academic integrity and due process. Students have demanded accountability and institutional reform. Wakode’s family has alleged caste-based harassment. The police are investigating. IIT Bombay has apologised for its initial public account while simultaneously maintaining that the circumstances remain under investigation.

The question IIT Bombay must now answer

The academic misconduct allegation has also become central to the public discussion. But academic integrity and caste discrimination are not mutually exclusive questions. Even if the investigation establishes that Wakode violated examination rules, that would not automatically disprove allegations that he may have experienced caste-based discrimination or harassment. Conversely, allegations of caste discrimination cannot be used to establish that an examination rule was not violated.

The two questions require separate examination. The tragedy is that IIT Bombay’s initial public statement blurred those questions by placing the examination incident at the centre of its account of Wakode’s death. Its subsequent apology acknowledged that the circumstances preceding his death should not have been characterised before they were established through investigation.

The most important question is not whether IIT Bombay can defend its procedures. It is whether those procedures are capable of protecting students when the person they may need protection from is someone who exercises institutional authority over them.

Detailed reports on Darshan Solanki suicide case may be read here, here, here, here and here.

 

Related:

Mumbai Dharna for Darshan Solanki makes calls for law against caste discrimination

The Normalisation of Suicide at IITs: Institutional blindness and failure

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

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

Another student lost to suicide at IIT-Delhi

IIT Kanpur: Third incident of suicide in five weeks, a 29-year-old PhD scholar found dead in her dorm room

Another student, belonging to the Scheduled Caste community, dies by suicide in IIT

Crucial evidence overlooked by IIT Committee, internal survey by SC/ST Cell contradicts report findings

 

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]]> Stop construction of Vadhavan Port, have open discussions with local communities: Climate change activists https://sabrangindia.in/stop-construction-of-vadhavan-port-have-open-discussions-with-local-communities-climate-change-activists/ Tue, 22 Sep 2026 07:35:51 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49401 Arguing that the Vadhavan Port Project in Maharashtra has not emerged from the needs of the local communities, and instead threatens the livelihoods of fisher folk, Adivasi lands, agriculture and orchards, the sea, and coastal biodiversity, the NAPM has demanded that the project “should be scrapped immediately”

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]]> Pointing to the serious impact of climate change becoming serious in the coastal areas, building such massive port projects will have far-reaching consequences for both food security and health said the National Alliance of People’s Movements (NAPM) that has, after a series of interactions with local communities, demanded that the Vadhavan Port project be scrapped immediately. On the contrary, says the collective, the project threatens the livelihoods of fisherfolk, Adivasi lands, agriculture and orchards, the sea, and coastal biodiversity.

On September 19t and 20 2026, representatives of NAPM from Maharashtra and several other states across the country met and interacted with fisherfolk, Adivasis, farmers, die-makers, landless people, workers, and other affected communities in the Vadhavan area.

The Vadhavan Port project proposes to reclaim approximately 1,448 hectares of the sea to create land. In addition, large areas of land will be required for roads, railways, and other associated infrastructure. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has publicly stated that Vadhavan Port will transform Maharashtra’s economy, turn Palghar into a “Fourth Mumbai,” and create lakhs of jobs. But the fisherfolk, Adivasis, farmers, die-makers, and other local communities protesting along the Vadhavan coast do not want a form of development that destroys their lives and livelihoods.

The proposal for a port in the Vadhavan area had been questioned earlier as well on environmental grounds. Today, various agencies of the Union and State governments are taking the project forward. Yet the environmental and social concerns raised earlier remain unresolved, even as the scale of the project has expanded many times over. The experience of JNPT and other ports must be studied – including the traffic, urbanisation, pollution, impacts on fishing, and expansion of infrastructure that they have brought to coastal areas – and an independent assessment of the overall impacts of Vadhavan must be carried out. The damage already witnessed elsewhere should serve as a grave warning.

“We do not want a Fourth Mumbai. Our sea, our farms, our forests and our villages must remain as they are!”

With this demand, communities across the area have united under the leadership of the Vadhavan Bandar Virodhi Sangharsh Samiti to oppose the port. Beyond the port itself, the project entails approximately 1,448 hectares of marine reclamation, over 10 kilometres of breakwater, large-scale dredging, road and rail connectivity, storage and logistics infrastructure, and industrial and commercial development. In other words, this is a project that will transform the entire coastline. In NAPM’s view, this is not a chain of development, but a chain of destruction. The government speaks of an investment of Rs. 76,220 crore and the creation of lakhs of jobs. But alongside government agencies, major international port, terminal, logistics, and dredging operators are participating in this project. Who, then, will count the cost to the generations-old livelihoods of local fisherfolk, Adivasis, farmers, and small producers?

According to government studies, the 16 fishing villages in the project area are home to 20,809 fisherfolk belonging to 5,333 households. Fishing is the principal livelihood of these communities. Skill training or compensation of a few lakh rupees cannot replace the sea for a fisher. Traditional fishing, local fish resources – including lobster – and the entire economy built around them must be protected. Vadhavan lies within the ecologically sensitive Dahanu region. The cumulative impacts of massive marine reclamation, dredging, and the breakwater on sea currents, sediment movement, fishing grounds, and tidal ecosystems must be examined seriously.

A fundamental question remains: Have the traditional knowledge of local communities, their lived experience of the sea, and data on local biodiversity been adequately reflected in these studies?

If mangrove areas are affected, marine ecosystems could be destroyed. Such ecosystems are nearly impossible to recreate elsewhere, making their protection and conservation critically important. The impacts of sourcing material for Vadhavan’s reclamation and associated infrastructure – including quarrying in hilly areas, impacts on Adivasi areas, and deforestation – must also be taken into account. Cutting down a forest in one place and planting trees in another district cannot compensate for the loss of that ecosystem.

Official information indicates that private land, Adivasi land, forest land, and government land will be required for the roads and railways connecting the port. The impact of the project will therefore not remain confined to the port area. For Adivasi communities, land cultivated over generations is the very basis of survival. We cannot accept taking away these lands in the name of development – blasting hills, cutting forests, and dumping reclamation material, and calling this “development.”

It is misleading to present Vadhavan as simply a “container port.” According to official documents, it is a deep-draft major port with the capacity to handle bulk chemical and crude cargo in addition to containers. Under the Central Pollution Control Board’s classification, ports, harbours, jetties, and dredging operations fall under the Red Category, while ports handling only containers fall under the Orange Category.

Government documents claim a sea depth of 20 metres. However, the local Sangharsh Samiti says that measurements taken at low tide found the depth to be lower. Activists say that although this issue was raised during the public hearing, no satisfactory response was provided.

The NAPM has demanded:

—Put a halt to the Vadhavan Port project immediately.

—Immediately halt tree-felling and all related infrastructure works.

—-Conduct an independent and transparent cumulative impact assessment, with the participation of local fisherfolk, Adivasis, farmers, and women.

 

—-Independently re-measure the depth of the sea, including verification of the claim of a 20-metre depth. The exercise must be public and conducted in the presence of local communities.

—-Protect the generations-old livelihoods of fisherfolk. Traditional fishing must not be destroyed in the name of compensation or alternative employment.

—Protect Adivasi land and forests, and safeguard all their legal rights, including rights under PESA.

—-Protect the local ecosystem instead of afforestation in distant districts as compensation for the destruction of local forests.

—-Instead of imposing uncontrolled urbanization in the name of a “Fourth Mumbai,” establish schools, colleges, hospitals, healthcare services, and employment opportunities based on the needs of the local people.

Finally, the statement issued by NAPM states that the people’s movement at Vadhavan is not a struggle against one port alone. It is a struggle to defend the coastline, fisherfolk and Adivasi communities, agriculture, forests, and biodiversity.

“The people of Vadhavan do want development – they want schools, a college, hospitals and doctors; they want markets for their agriculture and horticulture; fisherfolk need facilities and fair prices; and young people need dignified employment in their own region.

“NAPM stands firmly with the Vadhavan Bandar Virodhi Sangharsh Samiti and with the fisherfolk, Adivasis, and local communities fighting this project. We reject a model of development built by destroying the sea, forests, land, and livelihoods.NAPM appeals to people’s movements across the country to express their solidarity with the sit-in protest that has now continued for the past 48 days.”

NAPM has been part of this struggle, which has continued for several decades, from the very beginning. Medha Patkar, the late Thomas Kocherry, Rambhau Patil, N. D. Koli and many other activists have stood with this struggle over the years.

The statement has been issued by Sanjay Mangala Gopal, Suniti S. R – National Convenors (from Maharashtra), Sujay More, Sirat Satpute, Maharashtra State Convenors. The Solidarity Team Members include Prasad Chacko, Ahmedabad; Pranjali Tripathi, Jaipur; Adv. Mini Mathew, Bandra; Siddharth Chakravarti, Bengaluru; Sakshi Samant, Thane; Nandkumar Pawar, Mumbai; Ramesh Koli, Uran; Mangesh Koli, Uran; Mayur Koli, Uran; Dhananjay Shinde; Rajshree Shinde, Mumbai


Related:

Dahanu locals reject JNPT survey that pushes for a new port at Vadhavan

Maharashtra’s fishing community fights to protect its ‘golden belt’ coast

50,000 strong Adivasi, farmers march from Charoti to Palghar, hold indefinite dharna for land rights

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]]> Outside the World, Outside the Page: Why We Are More Receptive to Dalit Suffering than Dalit Anger https://sabrangindia.in/outside-the-world-outside-the-page-why-we-are-more-receptive-to-dalit-suffering-than-dalit-anger/ Fri, 18 Sep 2026 09:22:17 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49349 The author, a student in Bengaluru, asks why Dalit suffering is more readily received than Dalit anger in literature, cinema and public life. Is it because sorrow allows readers and viewers to remain sympathetic observers, while anger and refusal can challenge that comfortable distance?

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]]> Why is it so much easier to feel sorry for a Dalit character than to sit with one who is simply, unapologetically angry?

It’s worth asking because the answer may say less about literature than it does about the way we have learned to read caste. We have, as readers and viewers, built a fairly narrow set of terms under which we are willing to engage with caste at all, and sorrow fits neatly inside those terms. Anger doesn’t.

Sadness is an easier thing to host. A Dalit character suffers, we feel for them, we close the book or leave the theatre a little shaken -quietly proud of ourselves, even, for having felt something at all. It’s a tidy transaction. The pain stays over there, on the page or the screen. We stay over here, safely watching.

But anger doesn’t play by those rules. “Look what was done to me” is a sentence we can pity from a comfortable distance. “You were part of the world that let this happen” is different. It doesn’t ask for our sympathy. It asks what we will do with our discomfort.

Beyond this literary pattern, it played out in real life in July 2016, in a small town called Una in Gujarat. Four Dalit men were skinning a dead cow, their traditional, caste-assigned occupation, when a group of self-declared cow vigilantes accused them of killing it. The men were stripped, tied to a car, and beaten in public with sticks and iron rods while onlookers filmed it. The video spread within hours.

It wasn’t the usual cycle of outrage, sympathy, silence. Thousands of Dalits marched across Gujarat. Tens of thousands eventually joined what came to be called the Dalit Asmita Yatra, the Dalit Pride March. And at the end of it, they didn’t ask to be pitied. They pledged: they would stop removing dead cattle from upper-caste villages altogether. Let the carcasses lie where they fell if no one else would touch them.

That was a refusal. And refusal is harder to watch because it changes the position of the person watching. An entire social order had quietly depended on their silence and that silence had run out.

The instinct to prefer sorrow over refusal has a longer history.

In the 1870s, Jyotirao Phule’s Gulamgiri was asking why a system of oppression had been built in the first place. Later, Dalit writers and theorists would continue to challenge the expectation that Dalit lives should appear on the page primarily through suffering.

The same discomfort appears in the Marathi film Fandry. Jabya, the protagonist, spends the story being humiliated, and the audience is given every reason to feel for him. Then, in the final shot, he picks up a stone and throws it straight at the camera- straight at the viewer. He is no longer simply someone to pity; he is someone looking back. It is harder to sit with than anything that came before it.

That moment matters because the viewer can no longer remain comfortably outside the scene. The stone crosses the invisible distance between the character and the audience.

None of this makes Dalit anger the “right” emotion, any more than suffering ever was. The ask is simple: let people be whatever they actually are, on the page and off it. Let them suffer if that’s true. Let them refuse, the way Una refused, if that’s true too. Nobody should have to stay pitiable to be taken seriously.

Maybe that’s the real thing being asked of all of us: not compassion, which is easy to hand out and feel good about, but the willingness to face Dalit anger without demanding that it make us comfortable. Some voices were never meant to comfort us. They were meant to make us listen.

(The author is a postgraduate student of English Literature with interests in Dalit studies, South Asian Literature, media, cultural identity and representation based in Bengaluru.)

Related:

Thirty years on, justice remains elusive for Dalits in Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana

Dalit Justice Demanded: CJP exposes 30 brutal anti-Dalits atrocities, urges NCSC to confront nationwide caste violence under Article 338

No to Dalits who are Christian, Muslim, how the AP HC limits its understanding of caste and faith

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]]> Swaminarayan, untouchability and the ‘we are not Hindu’ argument https://sabrangindia.in/swaminarayan-untouchability-and-the-we-are-not-hindu-argument/ Tue, 15 Sep 2026 12:30:10 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49309 Following my blog on why the Eiffel Tower authorities should take all the blame for giving in to the Swaminarayan sadhus’ bizarre demand to “invisibilise” women, including its female staff, during their visit to the internationally renowned Paris tourist centre on September 5, an interesting comment by one of the top academics drew my attention to something I vaguely knew […]

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]]> Following my blog on why the Eiffel Tower authorities should take all the blame for giving in to the Swaminarayan sadhus’ bizarre demand to “invisibilise” women, including its female staff, during their visit to the internationally renowned Paris tourist centre on September 5, an interesting comment by one of the top academics drew my attention to something I vaguely knew about one of India’s most powerful and richest religious sects.

Sent as a personal message, Prof Ghanshyam Shah drew my attention to the fact that, at one point, the sect’s top sadhus had declared that they were not Hindus during a case in the Supreme Court. He further told me that its temples once did not allow “untouchables” to enter.

Nothing unusual, I thought, for a groundbreaking study, supported by an Ahmedabad-based Dalit rights NGO, Navsarjan Trust, “Understanding Untouchability”, had found the widespread prevalence of untouchability in 1,589 Gujarat villages it surveyed. It said that more than 90 per cent of rural Dalits reported facing “no entry” in temples during religious ceremonies. The 2009 survey became such an eyesore for the state government that the latter sponsored a parallel study to counter the Navsarjan claim.

I looked it up, and sources told me that the case was Sastri Yagnapurushdasji and Others v. Muldas Bhudardas Vaishya and Another. It so happened that in 1947, the Province of Bombay passed the Bombay Harijan Temple Entry Act—later superseded by the Bombay Hindu Places of Public Worship (Entry-Authorisation) Act, 1956—to eradicate untouchability by legally granting Dalits (then referred to as Harijans) the right to enter and worship in all Hindu public places of worship on equal terms.

Following the law’s passage, leaders and followers (satsangis) of one of the major Swaminarayan sects, operating from Ahmedabad, filed a suit seeking a permanent injunction to prevent non-satsangi Dalits—those not initiated into the spiritual teachings of Swaminarayan—from entering their temples.

The sect’s argument for exempting its temples from the social reform legislation was that the Swaminarayan faith, or Swaminarayan sampradaya, was an entirely separate and distinct religion, not part of the Hindu religion. Hence, the Bombay temple-entry laws—which applied specifically to “Hindu” places of public worship—did not apply to Swaminarayan temples.

The case, which began in Ahmedabad, went up to the Supreme Court, whose Constitution Bench, led by Chief Justice P.B. Gajendragadkar, ruled on January 14, 1966, that the Swaminarayan sect was an integral part of the Hindu religion. The court observed that Hinduism, unlike prophetic, monotheistic religions, does not depend on a single founder, a single holy book, or a uniform dogma. It described Hinduism as a broad, inclusive “way of life” capable of accommodating diverse theological views, reform movements, and sub-traditions. It went on to trace the theological foundation of Swaminarayan (Sahajanand Swami) to the Vishishtadvaita philosophy of Ramanuja. It noted that the sect accepts the authority of foundational Hindu scriptures—the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Bhagavata Purana—and worships traditional Hindu deities alongside its founder. Consequently, internal reforms or distinct sectarian practices did not sever it from the Hindu fold.

The court held that freedom of religion under Articles 25 and 26 cannot override constitutional mandates aimed at ending social evils like untouchability. Article 25(2)(b) specifically preserves the state’s power to provide for social welfare and reform by opening Hindu religious institutions to all classes and sections of Hindus.

Therefore, Swaminarayan temples fall squarely within the scope of public Hindu temples, making it unlawful to bar Dalit Hindus from entry.

Sources tell me that neither BAPS nor the Maninagar group, the two largest branches of the sect, were parties to the litigation, and that the case was fought by followers and sadhus of the original Swaminarayan sampradaya—specifically the Northern Gadi, centred at the Shri Nar Narayan Dev Temple in Kalupur, Ahmedabad.

Yet, despite claims of equality before God, the fact is that historical and sociological evidence suggests that Dalits (formerly untouchables) faced significant exclusion and separate worship practices within the Swaminarayan framework, and BAPS was no exception between the late 19th and mid-20th centuries.

While BAPS and “modern” Swaminarayan organisations emphasise spiritual equality, there have been several ways in which caste distinctions were enforced.

The primary ethical manual for all Swaminarayan followers—including BAPS—is the Shikshapatri, was written the 19th century. The Shikshapatri no doubt sought to initiate followers across caste lines and preached against outward notions of pollution in bhakti, yet it explicitly accommodated traditional Varnashrama Dharma. It referred to Slokas 17–20 and 91 in order to instruct followers not to abandon the duties and ritual observances of their own caste. In fact, there were ritual purity rules which dictated that touching members of the “lowest castes” (antyaja or outcastes) caused ritual impurity requiring purificatory bathing.

An authoritative interpretation of Shikshapatri published by the temple authorities under the title “The Epistle of Precepts” states that the caste system is “designed for effective organisation and management of society. It provides a distribution of manpower for various necessary jobs.” Comparing it with “White collar/Blue collar separation of the work force in the West”, the write-up insists that it is “enforced by birth”, and that depending on “one’s past karmas”, one is “born to endure the miseries or pleasures arising from a particular caste”. It adds: “If the caste system and the duties for each caste were followed then there is no doubt that we could return the former glory of ‘Rama Rajya’. The caste system is in no way a burden and needs to be preserved.”

Because caste rules prevented low-caste followers from worshipping alongside upper-caste Patidars and Brahmins in major temples, the sampradaya is said to have historically addressed Dalit devotion by building separate shrines or requiring external worship. Sociologist Raymond Brady Williams is cited for documenting that in parts of Gujarat (such as Chhani near Vadodara), separate temples were maintained specifically for Dalit devotees, where they could manage and perform rituals themselves without entering dominant-caste shrines. Further, early colonial observers and 19th-century commentators noted that while untouchables were inducted as disciples, social conservatism among dominant-caste followers led them to build segregated shrines or sit outside during satsang assemblies.

It is within this framework that BAPS (or, for that matter, the Maninagar Gadi) never claimed to be non-Hindu. Unlike the orthodox Ahmedabad litigants in the 1948-1966 Yagnapurushdasji case—or groups like the Ramakrishna Mission, which in the 1980s famously petitioned courts for non-Hindu minority status under Article 30 to protect its schools—BAPS never made any legal, institutional, or theological claim of being a separate, non-Hindu religion.

Instead, BAPS took the opposite approach, establishing itself as an assertive, global champion of classical Hindu identity, identifying itself as a “socio-spiritual Hindu organisation” rooted in Vedic Sanatana Dharma, whatever that may mean. Today, its literature, constitutional charters, and global temples—such as the Akshardham complexes in Delhi, Gandhinagar, and Robbinsville, New Jersey—are officially branded as Hindu mandirs and centres of Hindu culture.

In fact, sources insist that BAPS protagonists have sought to justify the claim that the assertion “We are not Hindu” was primarily an expedient legal defence, not an authentic theological shift.

The 1948-1966 court plaint (Sastri Yagnapurushdasji v. Muldas Bhudardas Vaishya), originally filed on January 12, 1948, in the Civil Court at Ahmedabad, explicitly argued that the religion of the Swaminarayan sect was “distinct and separate from the Hindu religion”, just to bypass the Bombay Harijan Temple Entry Act.

Further, BAPS never sought to endorse the “non-Hindu minority” legal trend that prevailed across India during the mid-to-late 20th century, when several prominent Hindu-origin organisations filed official court petitions seeking status as distinct, non-Hindu religious minorities to protect their institutions from state control or social legislation—something the Ramakrishna Mission in West Bengal, as well as the Lingayats in Karnataka, did.

Yet, for a long time, in BAPS, while non-Brahmin dominant castes (predominantly Patidars) made up much of the sadhu leadership, Dalits were not accepted into the ascetic order. Dalit satsangis, it was claimed, historically observed customary caste restrictions as part of their caste duty (dharma), resulting in a virtual absence of Dalit ascetics. It was only beginning in the 1980s and 1990s, under Pramukh Swami Maharaj, that BAPS formally began breaking this precedent by initiating sadhus from Dalit and Adivasi backgrounds and integrating them into full temple rituals and sanctum priesthood.

And what is the Dalit status today in BAPS temples? Sources tell me that while officially there are no caste-based restrictions on Dalits in its temples, neither BAPS nor any other Swaminarayan Gadi publishes an official caste census of its monastic order. Doctrinally, the sects maintain that upon taking initiation (diksha), a sadhu renounces their worldly identity and pre-monastic caste.

However, detailed field studies and academic documentation by sociologists and historians such as Raymond Brady Williams, Rachel Dwyer, David Hardiman, and Ghanshyam Shah provide some idea, stating that while BAPS formally ended caste-based exclusions for monastic initiation in the late 20th century, the actual proportion of Dalit and Adivasi sadhus is estimated to be well under 1%—representing a tiny handful of individuals out of more than 1,100 to 1,200 living sadhus. And most of the marginalised-community inductions into the sadhu order have come from Adivasi (tribal) communities in eastern and southern Gujarat, rather than Dalits. Adivasis, in the caste-based structure of Hinduism, do not fall under the “untouchables” category.

As for other Swaminarayan sects—the Vadtal and Ahmedabad Gadi (the original sampradaya)—the proportion of those wearing saffron robes is effectively 0%. Patidars overwhelmingly rank across almost all Swaminarayan sects and are heavily concentrated among dominant landowning and mercantile castes—estimated by sociologists to make up 60% to over 80% of the sadhus, while Brahmins and Banias comprise most of the remaining portion of the ascetic order.

In several Swaminarayan establishments, the low-caste candidates who entered the monastic path were permanently relegated to the status of parshads (also called palas or bhagats). They wore white clothes, performed manual labour, and were barred from receiving full saffron renunciation (bhagwati diksha).

As for BAPS, in the 1980s–1990s, as part of its expanded youth initiatives, there was tribal/backward-class outreach. At the 1981 Swaminarayan bicentenary mega event in Ahmedabad, Pramukh Swami initiated a massive cohort of young, educated men into the monastic order, beginning a formal systematisation of the training pipeline, which included initiating youths from backward-class and tribal (Adivasi) backgrounds into saffron robes, granting them new ascetic names and the sacred thread.

According to Williams, Pramukh Swami “abolished for BAPS the caste-related category of ascetics permanently in white”. From that period onwards, the parshad (white-clad) status in BAPS ceased to be an indicator of lower caste. Instead, it became a mandatory, temporary probationary phase (typically lasting one to three years) that every novice—regardless of caste or social background—must undergo before taking full saffron vows.

David Hardiman, a prominent subaltern historian and sociologist of modern Gujarat and Professor Emeritus of History at the University of Warwick, noted in “Class Base of the Swaminarayan Sect” (Economic and Political Weekly, 1988) that while the Swaminarayan Sampradaya historically served as an ideological vehicle for the upwardly mobile Kanbi/Patidar agrarian elite, the sect incorporated lower-caste and Adivasi groups through moral reform (temperance, vegetarianism), which structurally limited Dalits from rising into spiritual leadership or ascetic power within dominant institutions.

I would like to end with the following observation by Prof Ghanshyam Shah in “Untouchability in Rural India”, co-authored with Harsh Mander, Sukhadeo Thorat, et al.:

“While the evidence … suggests that the more blatant and extreme forms of untouchability appear to have declined, discrimination continues and is most prevalent in the religious and personal spheres.”

Further:

“Removal of untouchability was on their agenda; it was however primarily confined to removing the taboo of physical touch rather than socio-economic discrimination and inequality.”

Courtesy: CounterView

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]]> Deaths, Denials and Delayed Action: The Balaghat crisis https://sabrangindia.in/deaths-denials-and-delayed-action-the-balaghat-crisis/ Tue, 15 Sep 2026 08:42:24 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49300 From malnutrition and disease to protests and court intervention, Balaghat’s Adivasi villages reveal a crisis that the administration appears to have recognised only after the deaths became impossible to ignore  

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]]> For months, children in some of Madhya Pradesh’s most remote Adivasi settlements were falling ill and dying, while the scale of the crisis remained contested and, according to villagers and local representatives, inadequately acknowledged by the administration. The deaths were reported from Baiga and Gond-dominated settlements in the Birsa and Baihar blocks of Balaghat district, including Songudda, Bondari, Kundekasa, Korka, Gathiya, Machhula and Matla. The Baiga community is classified as a Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group (PVTG), making the condition of these settlements particularly significant when assessing the State’s obligations towards healthcare, nutrition, drinking water and basic services.

The first reports of children falling ill emerged in the early phase of the crisis, with fever, rashes and other symptoms being reported from the tribal belt. The official account initially placed the number of deaths far below the figures subsequently reported by villagers and local representatives. According to Dainik Bhaskar, the government initially reported eight deaths, while the toll later rose through figures of 19, 22, 24 and 27. By September, Congress leaders were citing 30 deaths and media reports had placed the number at 31, although the administration had not released a final official figure.

Scroll, in its September 4 report, said that at least 25 Baiga and Gond children had died since May and reported that a suspected measles-malaria outbreak had remained undetected for two months in remote Adivasi habitations because of the absence of an adequate healthcare system. The report brought into sharp focus what villagers had been saying: that the crisis was not merely about an infectious disease, but about how little access these communities had to functioning public healthcare in the first place.

 

The deaths cannot be reduced to a single disease

The investigations have identified measles, malaria and, in some cases, possible measles-malaria co-infection. Children were also found suffering from dehydration, anaemia, respiratory complications and severe malnutrition. Officials have said that different children presented with different clinical conditions and that no single disease has been established as the cause of every reported death. Some children reportedly died at home or before reaching a healthcare facility, leaving investigators without medical records or diagnostic samples in several cases. A retrospective case-by-case review, including verbal autopsies, is consequently being undertaken.

But the absence of a single pathogen does not make the crisis any less serious. In fact, the health data emerging from the region points towards a much deeper structural failure. A Central government screening exercise covered 32,433 people. It identified 7,711 children with severe acute malnutrition, of whom 518 required admission to Nutrition Rehabilitation Centres. Another 13,406 children were treated for diarrhoea and 274 for severe pneumonia. Since July, 431 children had reportedly been admitted to hospitals, with 52 still undergoing treatment at the time of the report.

These figures make it difficult to view the deaths simply as an isolated outbreak. They reveal communities in which infectious disease, malnutrition, unsafe or inadequate water, poor sanitation and delayed access to medical treatment are interacting with one another.

Balaghat was not an unexpected health-risk zone

The crisis also did not emerge in an epidemiological vacuum. Balaghat has been identified as a major malaria hotspot. According to the health data, of the 2,126 malaria cases reported in Madhya Pradesh in 2025, 685 came from Balaghat. By July 2026, the district had already recorded 174 of the State’s 583 reported malaria cases.

The question, therefore, is not simply why children contracted malaria, measles or other infections. It is why children living in communities already known to face severe deprivation were allowed to reach such critical levels of illness before an adequate response was mounted.

That question becomes more pointed when viewed against the Union government’s own welfare architecture. The Pradhan Mantri Janjati Adivasi Nyaya Maha Abhiyan, or PM-JANMAN, was created specifically to improve the socio-economic conditions of PVTG communities. The scheme carries an outlay of ₹24,104 crore over three years and includes interventions intended to address basic services and infrastructure in PVTG habitations. Yet a Parliamentary Standing Committee, as reported by The Hindu, subsequently questioned why there were still no clear answers about the causes of the deaths months after the first cases had appeared.

The contradiction is difficult to ignore: government schemes may report near-complete sanctions and high aggregate levels of “saturation”, but the reality on the ground was children falling severely ill in settlements where access to basic healthcare remained precarious.

The protests exposed what official figures did not

As the number of deaths became increasingly contested, anger grew in the affected communities. One of the most disturbing allegations concerned the death of four-year-old Luvkush in Baigatola. Villagers alleged that the administration arranged his cremation without a post-mortem while his parents were away in Hyderabad looking for work. The allegation was followed by villagers blocking the Balaghat-Baihar road. The protests were not simply expressions of grief. They were also demands for recognition, accountability and answers.

The issue deepened when the administration issued an order restricting photography and media coverage in hospitals. The order was withdrawn within hours following protests, as per Scroll. The Collector subsequently clarified that it had been issued in haste and was intended to prevent demonstrations rather than restrict media coverage. But in a crisis already marked by conflicting death figures and allegations that cases were not being adequately recorded, even a short-lived attempt to restrict what could be documented inevitably raised questions about transparency.

There was another serious institutional controversy. According to The Hindu, then Chief Medical and Health Officer Dr Paresh Uplab continued to describe the illnesses as seasonal ailments even as the reported death toll had risen substantially. He was subsequently removed, with Dr Manoj Pandey taking charge, followed later by Dr Shatrughan Singh Dahiya.

The issue, therefore, was no longer simply whether the children had died from measles, malaria, malnutrition or a combination of conditions. It was also whether the State had accurately recognised the crisis while it was unfolding.

The State’s response came in stages

The government has since substantially expanded its response. The 50-bed paediatric facility at the district hospital was expanded to 150 beds, while a Covid ward was temporarily converted into a paediatric ward. Mobile Medical Units were deployed in Birsa and Baihar to provide fever screening, outpatient consultations, maternal and child healthcare, tuberculosis and non-communicable disease screening, medicines and primary diagnosis in remote areas.

According to the Dainik Bhasker report, more than 600 drinking-water sources were purified, insecticide spraying was carried out in 4,338 households and fogging was undertaken in affected and adjoining areas. More than 14,000 children aged between one and ten received an additional Measles-Rubella vaccine dose.

The government also expanded surveillance to around 50 villages, increased sanitation interventions and strengthened treatment and referral arrangements. As reported by The Sun Today, the Chief Minister visited Balaghat on August 30, met affected families and announced ₹2 lakh assistance for each family of a deceased child. The government also announced a ₹225-crore development plan covering 100 villages formerly affected by Naxal activity.

These interventions are necessary. But they also raise an uncomfortable question: why did many of these measures become visible only after the deaths, protests and national attention?

Parliament asks the question the villages had already been asking

The Parliamentary Standing Committee on Social Justice and Empowerment questioned representatives of the Tribal Affairs Ministry, the Jal Shakti Ministry and the Department of Telecommunications about the Balaghat deaths, The Hindu reported. Members asked why, months after the first cases, there were still no clear answers regarding the causes of death. The Committee also questioned the implementation of PM-JANMAN and sought village-wise saturation data rather than aggregate figures.

A scheme cannot be considered successful merely because projects have been sanctioned on paper. A health intervention cannot be judged by the number of mobile units deployed after an outbreak. And a welfare programme cannot be called saturated while children in the communities it targets remain severely malnourished and struggle to reach medical care.

Political intervention followed public outrage

The Opposition also intervened. Times of India reported that Leader of Opposition in the Lok Sabha Rahul Gandhi described reports of 30 tribal children dying in Balaghat as extremely concerning and distressing, and called on Chief Minister Mohan Yadav to ensure immediate investigation, treatment and relief. Madhya Pradesh Leader of Opposition Umang Singhar separately wrote to Prime Minister Narendra Modi seeking a high-level medical inquiry and questioning how children could die from illnesses that may be treatable with timely intervention.

 

 

Recently, Cockroach Janata Party founder Abhijit Dipke also visited Balaghat.

 

The Gondwana Gantantra Party went further, giving the administration 15 days to provide ₹50 lakh compensation to the family of every deceased child and demanding a CBI investigation. These interventions have ensured that the deaths cannot simply disappear into the administrative language of “seasonal illness”, “surveillance” or “ongoing investigation”.

The High Court steps in

The Madhya Pradesh High Court sought a response from the State government on a public interest litigation concerning the deaths of more than 30 tribal children. As reported by LiveLaw, the petition alleged inadequate medical care and pointed to around 400 children being treated in a facility that initially had only 50 beds. The petition was filed after media reports brought the deaths to public attention.

The Court initially directed the petitioner to personally visit the affected areas and verify the claims rather than proceed solely on newspaper reports. After the petitioner submitted a ground report, the Court issued notices to the State Health Department, Women and Child Development Department, the Balaghat Collector and other authorities. The ground report alleged that handpumps in affected areas were producing yellow-coloured water, that children and women had not received nutritious food on time for months, and that poor sanitation was contributing to infections. It further alleged that significant administrative action followed only after the number of deaths had crossed 30.

What does Balaghat reveal?

The most disturbing feature of the Balaghat crisis may ultimately be that none of its individual components is entirely new. Malaria was already a known problem. Malnutrition was already present. The affected communities were already among India’s most vulnerable tribal populations. Remote settlements already faced difficulties accessing healthcare. Yet the crisis escalated to the point where dozens of children were reported dead and hundreds became ill before the State response reached the scale now being described.

Whether the final death toll is 25, 30 or another number, whether individual deaths are ultimately attributed to malaria, measles, malnutrition, respiratory complications or combinations of these, the underlying failures remain visible: severe malnutrition, inadequate healthcare access, sanitation concerns, difficulties with transportation and referral, questions around drinking water, delayed detection and serious disagreement between communities and the administration over the scale of the crisis.

The tragedy in Balaghat is therefore not only about how these children died. It is about how long they were allowed to remain vulnerable before the State responded with urgency.

 

Related:

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‘Forum for Electoral Integrity’ petitions NHRC over mass voter disenfranchisement under SIR

‘Forum for Electoral Integrity’ petitions NHRC over mass voter disenfranchisement under SIR

Beaten to Death Outside His Own Home: What Delhi owes Chongtham Vikram Singh

Midnight Arrest, Daylight Questions: Why was Santosh Pandit taken into custody?

 

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]]> A people on the brink: The fight to protect the Shompen of Great Nicobar https://sabrangindia.in/a-people-on-the-brink-the-fight-to-protect-the-shompen-of-great-nicobar/ Thu, 27 Aug 2026 11:01:43 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=49041 India’s tribal communities have long lived at the margins of society, shaped by histories of displacement, fragile livelihoods and limited access to essential services. Among them, the Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTGs) represent the most delicate thread in the country’s social fabric. Many continue to depend on forests and natural ecosystems for survival, while others […]

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]]> India’s tribal communities have long lived at the margins of society, shaped by histories of displacement, fragile livelihoods and limited access to essential services. Among them, the Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTGs) represent the most delicate thread in the country’s social fabric. Many continue to depend on forests and natural ecosystems for survival, while others have been pushed toward urban centres in search of work. Their vulnerability is often intensified by isolation, demographic fragility and the pressures of modern development. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, home to several indigenous groups whose futures hinge on the protection of their territories, cultures and autonomy.

The Shompen of Great Nicobar Island stand out as one of India’s most distinctive and endangered tribal communities. Living deep within the island’s forests, they have traditionally followed a semi‑nomadic life of hunting, gathering and horticulture. Their diet—coconuts, bananas, tubers, fish, wild animals and honey—reflects a sophisticated understanding of the forest ecosystem. Their indigenous methods of storing water in bamboo, their linguistic uniqueness and their customary practices have long fascinated anthropologists and administrators. Yet these very characteristics also make them exceptionally vulnerable to external pressures.

Historically, the Shompen have maintained minimal contact with outsiders, a factor that helped preserve their culture but also left them exposed to new risks as interactions increased. Their population numbers tell a story of extreme demographic fragility. Estimates have fluctuated sharply over the past century: 348 in 1901, 375 in 1911 and 1921, dropping to 200 in 1931, plummeting to 20 in 1951, rising again to 212 in 1981, falling to 135 in 1991 and reaching 229 in 2001. These swings must be interpreted cautiously, given the difficulty of enumerating isolated communities, but they nonetheless reveal how even minor disruptions—disease outbreaks, habitat loss or food scarcity—can have catastrophic consequences for such a small population.

Health remains one of the most serious concerns. Indigenous groups with limited historical exposure to communicable diseases are at heightened risk when contact with outsiders increases. The Andaman Islands have witnessed outbreaks of measles, mumps and tuberculosis among other tribal communities, underscoring the dangers of uncontrolled interaction. For the Shompen, healthcare policy must strike a delicate balance: ensuring access to essential services without exposing them to infectious diseases or creating dependency on external institutions. Preventive, culturally sensitive strategies—surveillance, vaccination where appropriate, nutritional support and emergency response—must be designed with respect for autonomy and minimal intrusion.

The Shompen’s survival is inseparable from the forests of Great Nicobar. Their traditional economy depends on access to wildlife, water sources and forest produce. The Andaman and Nicobar Islands (Protection of Aboriginal Tribes) Regulation, 1956 sought to safeguard indigenous territories by restricting land transfers and outsider access. Yet protected areas can create dilemmas when conservation measures unintentionally limit indigenous communities’ access to resources they have relied on for generations. Protection must therefore prioritize tribal rights rather than impose rigid administrative boundaries. Encroachment, agricultural expansion, commercial extraction and unauthorized entry threaten both the forest ecosystem and the Shompen’s livelihood security.

Contact with outsiders remains one of the most sensitive policy issues. Tourism, settlement and infrastructure development have increased opportunities for interaction, often with harmful consequences. Experiences involving other indigenous groups in the islands reveal how treating tribal communities as tourist attractions can lead to exploitation, cultural disruption and nutritional decline. When traditional food systems are replaced by market commodities, diets may become inadequate or unhealthy. Policy must follow the principle of minimum necessary contact, ensuring that interaction occurs only for essential purposes such as healthcare, protection or administration.

Tourism, in particular, demands strict ethical safeguards. The controversies surrounding the Andaman Trunk Road illustrate how commercial interests can overshadow indigenous rights. The Shompen must never be approached, photographed or displayed for entertainment. Their privacy, dignity and right to determine the nature of contact must take precedence over tourism revenue. Responsible tourism requires prohibiting exploitative encounters and preventing entry into protected tribal territories except under strictly regulated conditions.

Education presents another complex challenge. The Shompen possess their own language, ecological knowledge and cultural practices. Conventional schooling, if imposed without sensitivity, may erode indigenous knowledge and produce limited outcomes. Experiences from Tamil Nadu and Madhya Pradesh show that educational programmes become more effective when they incorporate local languages and traditional learning systems. For the Shompen, flexible, community‑based approaches—introduced only with their consent—may be more appropriate than mass‑schooling models.

Government policy in the islands has evolved from colonial settlement and penal administration to post‑independence efforts aimed at protecting tribal communities. The 1956 Regulation established a legal framework for safeguarding indigenous territories, and subsequent measures strengthened restrictions on unauthorized access, tourism and photography. Research institutions have contributed to documenting tribal societies and informing policy. Yet legislation alone cannot ensure protection; effective implementation, monitoring and coordination are essential.

The Shompen require a policy approach tailored to their unique circumstances. Their territorial rights must be protected from encroachment. Contact with outsiders should be strictly regulated. Healthcare interventions must prioritize disease prevention and nutritional security. Cultural preservation—including documentation of language and traditional knowledge—should be undertaken only with community consent. Traditional food systems and livelihoods must be strengthened rather than replaced. Tourism must never compromise their dignity. Governance should respect their choices and customary institutions. Data collection must be careful, ethical and non‑intrusive.

The way forward lies in protecting the Shompen’s relationship with their environment. Their traditional practices—hunting, gathering and horticulture—are finely adapted to Great Nicobar’s ecology. Development interventions must avoid disrupting this balance. Infrastructure and economic projects in the Nicobar Islands must be planned with sensitivity to ecological and tribal concerns. The goal is not assimilation into mainstream society, nor romanticized isolation that denies essential services. The appropriate path lies between these extremes: protection without exploitation, assistance without dependency, development without displacement and contact without coercion.

The Shompen’s future depends on decisions made today. Their small population, isolation and dependence on natural resources make them acutely vulnerable. The history of tribal administration in the islands shows that even well‑intentioned interventions can produce unintended harm when indigenous autonomy and ecological realities are ignored. Policy must therefore place the Shompen’s life, land, health, culture and dignity at its centre. Their survival should not be measured by integration into mainstream society, but by their ability to retain identity, knowledge, territorial security and dignity while receiving essential protection when needed.

*Associate Professor (Retd.), National Institute of Rural Development (NIRD)

Courtesy: CounterView

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]]> Forced pregnancy tests for Adivasi women students in Maharashtra’s hostels, Rahul Gandhi registers strong protest https://sabrangindia.in/forced-pregnancy-tests-for-adivasi-women-students-in-maharashtras-hostels-rahul-gandhi-registers-strong-protest/ Tue, 25 Aug 2026 12:04:21 +0000 https://sabrangindia.in/?p=48981 The Leader of the Opposition in the Lok Sabha writes to Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis on Monday, August 24 stating that Adivasi students have been on hunger strike for more than 10 days, a fact that came to light in live interviews with some of them at the Chattron kee Goonj programme in Pune last Saturday

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]]> “I was shocked to learn that female students returning after an extended absence must undergo pregnancy tests and a range of other medical tests to prove their ‘fitness’,” Rahul Gandhi today wrote in a letter to Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, strongly condemning the practice and calling it a humiliation that presumes them guilty and attacks their humanity. Gandhi, the Leader of the Opposition in the Lok Sabha also released the communication on social media. He urged the Chief Minister to personally meet the protesting students, hear their grievances, and resolve the issues immediately. The six students on hunger strike are Shweta Girnak, 26; Nikita Mechkar, 22; Sharad Thokal, 26; Vijay Bhandble, 25; Rahul Dhanwe, 26; and Rajaram Padvi, 20. He urged the Chief Minister to personally meet the protesting students, hear their grievances, and resolve the issues immediately.

In the letter, Rahul Gandhi said that tribal students across the state had been protesting for more than ten days. “Many Adivasi students come from remote villages and depend on government hostels to study in the cities. A new rule bars anyone over 30 from these hostels, excluding many who are still completing their studies or preparing for exams,” he stated. He added that hostels for these students are unsafe as they reportedly lack food, sanitation and medical care. Incidents of snakebites have also been reported. “I was shocked to learn that female students returning after an extended absence must undergo pregnancy tests and a range of other medical tests, to prove their ‘fitness’. It is a humiliation that presumes them guilty until they prove otherwise. This rule is an attack on their dignity and their humanity,” he said.

Adivasi students across Maharashtra started their protest after the BJP-led state government introduced a government resolution (GR) on Aug 4, which fixed the age limit for staying in hostels at 26. However, after the decision sparked protests, the GR was revised on August 14 and the age limit was increased to 30. The students, however, are demanding complete withdrawal of the GR, besides seeking better facilities at hostels run by the Tribal Development Department across the state. They are also demanding immediate recruitment of aspirants from tribal community for 12,500 vacant posts which they claim have been stuck for a long time.

In his letter to Mr. Fadnavis, Mr. Gandhi followed up on interactions with students in Pune during the Chhatron ki Gunj (echoes of students) programme last Saturday. He said students from across Maharashtra had told him about hostel rules that “strip them of their dignity and shut off their path to education”.

Mr. Gandhi expressed particular concern over facilities for women, saying female students returning after an extended absence were required to undergo pregnancy tests and other medical examinations to establish their “fitness”. “It is a humiliation that presumes them guilty until they prove otherwise,” he said, describing the requirement as an “attack on their dignity and their humanity”. Mr. Gandhi also flagged a rule barring those above 30 from hostel accommodation, saying it excluded many students still completing their studies or preparing for examinations.

He also alleged that hostels were unsafe and often lacked food, sanitation and medical care, with students suffering injuries and deaths, including from snake bites.

“These students are not asking for charity. They are demanding what is theirs by right,” Mr. Gandhi said, urging Mr. Fadnavis to hear the students’ concerns and resolve them immediately.

Earlier in the day, the party had sought a special committee to probe the deaths of tribal children allegedly due to malnutrition in Madhya Pradesh and of tribal girls following snakebite in Maharashtra and demanded action against officials found responsible.

Adivasi Congress chief Vikrant Bhuria also called for a safety audit of tribal hostels, citing alleged lapses in facilities in the two States. Addressing a press conference here, Mr. Bhuria claimed that 22 children from the Baiga tribal community had died of malnutrition and related diseases in the Balaghat district of Madhya Pradesh. He alleged that a nutritional meal delivered to households had been discontinued for six months and that the nearest primary health centre was 20 km away. Vaccination coverage in the area was also below 80%, he claimed. “I had asked in the Madhya Pradesh Legislative Assembly how much budget was allocated for preventing malnutrition in the State’s tribal blocks and projects from 2020 to 2025, and how much of it was spent. The response was extremely concerning. The government said malnourished children are given a nutritional meal worth only ₹12 per day,” he said.

On Maharashtra, Bhuria alleged that more than 70 girls at a tribal hostel in Gadchiroli were made to sleep on the floor in a single room. Six girls were hospitalised following a snakebite incident, of whom three died, he claimed.

Mr. Bhuria said students protesting in Nashik were continuing their hunger strike, demanding better facilities at tribal hostels. He sought a probe into the Balaghat deaths and action against officials found responsible.

Related:

Bihar: Not just Delhi, Patna, Siwan too saw brute police violence against demonstrating students: PUCL

Maharashtra: After backlash, govt. moves to withdraw FIRs against student protesters but questions remain

Youth Uprising: A protest, a brute crackdown, a continuing countrywide response

Mumbai stands with students, but the state pushes back

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