Speaking to the media, as reported in The Times of India, Baraiya had proffered a self-propounded, twisted “theory” on why infant girls aged 4 to 10 months were victims of sexual crimes. “In India, the maximum number of rapes are visited upon women from SC, ST and OBC categories. The theory of rape is, when a man, walking down the road, sees a beautiful, extremely beautiful woman, then his mind could be distracted, a rape may follow (sic),” he had said.

He had then asked: “Are there any extremely beautiful women among SCs, STs and OBCs? Why then are they raped? Because such instructions are given in our religious scripts… It has been mentioned that if you have intimacy with women of these castes then it is the same as going on apilgrimage.”

Left shame-faced, Congress went on the defensive. Party state president Jitu Patwari was forced to issue a statement on Saturday evening saying a criminal who rapes women has no caste or religion. He is simply a criminal who deserves harshest punishment under law … What Phool Singh Baraiya said is his personal opinion. Congress does not agree with it. He has been asked to clarify his remark.”

Related:

Manipur gang-rape survivor dies without justice, three years after 2023 ethnic violence

Protest outside Delhi HC gate over bail in Unnao rape case, survivor’s mother asks for maximum punishment

Delhi HC grants bail pending appeal to Unnao rape convict Kuldeep Singh Sengar

The post MP: Beautiful woman ‘distracts, rape may follow’ says Cong MLA, outrage follows appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The survivor, who was abducted and gang-raped in May 2023 during the early days of the Meitei–Kuki ethnic clashes, passed away on January 10, 2026, while undergoing treatment in Guwahati. According to her family and Kuki organisations, the injuries and trauma she suffered never healed, leaving her physically fragile and psychologically withdrawn until her death.

Abduction and assault amid breakdown of law and order

As reported by The Indian Express, the woman—then 18 years old—was kidnapped on May 15, 2023, from Imphal while attempting to withdraw money from an ATM. She was taken away in a white Bolero by four armed men dressed in black shirts, allegedly associated with Meitei militant group Arambai Tenggol, which was active during the peak of the violence.

In her First Information Report (FIR), the survivor alleged that she was handed over to the men by members of the Meira Paibi, a Meitei women’s vigilante group—an allegation repeatedly raised by Kuki organisations.

She was taken to multiple locations, including Langol and Bishnupur, where three of the men allegedly raped her repeatedly while the fourth drove the vehicle. She later told NDTV in a July 2023 interview that she was blindfolded, denied food and water, tortured through the night, and left for dead on a hilltop.

“I was taken to a hill where they tortured and assaulted me. Whatever miserable things they could do to me, they did,” she had said.

In the early hours of the next morning, she managed to escape under the pretext of going to relieve herself. Injured and bleeding, she ran downhill, eventually hiding under a pile of vegetables in an autorickshaw that took her to safety. She was first treated in Kangpokpi and later referred to hospitals in Kohima, Guwahati, and Manipur.

Delayed fir, CBI probe, and no arrests

Due to the near-total collapse of law and order in Manipur at the time, the survivor could file a police complaint only on July 21, 2023—over two months after the assault. A zero FIR was registered at Kangpokpi police station and later transferred to the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI).

According to The Hindu, the case is currently being heard in a special CBI court in Guwahati. However, nearly two and a half years later, no arrests have been made, charges have not been framed, and the survivor’s family says they received no meaningful updates from either the Manipur Police or the CBI.

Prolonged trauma and declining health

The woman’s family told Newslaundry and other media outlets that she never recovered from the physical injuries or psychological shock of the assault. She suffered from breathing difficulties, uterine complications, depression, and recurring illness.

“My daughter was always smiling and full of life before this happened,” her mother said. “After the incident, she lost her smile. She would stay at home, not talk much, sometimes read the Bible, sometimes watch TV.”

The Indigenous Tribal Leaders Forum (ITLF) stated that she developed serious uterine and internal injuries and required repeated hospitalisation across three states. While the family received some compensation, its source and adequacy remain unclear.

Death sparks outrage, renewed demands

Following her death, Kuki organisations in Manipur and Delhi organised candlelight vigils and issued strong statements demanding justice. The ITLF described her death as “another painful testimony to the ruthless targeting of the Kuki-Zo people” and reiterated that the community now has “no option but to demand a separate administration for our safety, dignity, and survival” (PTI).

The Kuki Students’ Organisation (KSO), Delhi & NCR demanded that her death be officially recognised as a consequence of the 2023 violence.

“Any attempt to treat her death as unrelated would amount to a denial of justice and an erasure of responsibility,” the KSO said, calling on the Centre to expedite the creation of a separate administrative arrangement for tribal communities.

The Kuki-Zo Women’s Forum, Delhi & NCR remembered the survivor for her resilience. “For nearly three years, she carried pain that no human being should ever have to bear,” the group said.

‘A National Shame’: Brinda Karat

Senior CPI(M) leader and former Rajya Sabha MP Brinda Karat described the survivor’s death as a “national shame,” underscoring the failure of the state and justice system nearly two years after the crime, as per PTI.

“She was victimised twice—first by politics that fuelled hatred and violence, and then by a system that failed to act with urgency,” Karat said. A member of the CPI(M) politburo and former general secretary of the All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA), Karat has been documenting cases of sexual violence in Manipur and had met the survivor’s family during a visit to the state.

Karat blamed the political climate fostered by the RSS–BJP for creating an atmosphere of impunity that allowed armed groups to operate unchecked during the violence. “Her death without justice is a damning reflection on our administrative and judicial institutions,” she said, adding that the delay cost the survivor not only dignity, but ultimately her life.

A broader crisis of accountability

The survivor’s death has once again drawn attention to unresolved cases of sexual violence during the Manipur conflict, which erupted in May 2023 over land rights, political representation, and ethnic tensions between the valley-dominant Meitei community and hill-based Kuki-Zo tribes.

According to official figures, more than 260 people have been killed and over 60,000 displaced. Manipur has been under President’s Rule since February 2025, yet survivors and families continue to report inertia, silence, and denial of justice.

“She was not only a daughter of Manipur,” Brinda Karat said, “but a daughter of India.”

Her death—without arrests, without accountability, and without closure—now stands as a stark indictment of the state’s response to sexual violence in conflict zones, and a reminder of the human cost of prolonged inaction.

Related:

Broken State, Divided People: PUCL releases report of Independent People’s Tribunal on Manipur

Manipur Violence: Two years down, health rights activists demand restoration and spread of essential services all over state

Arambai Tenggol: champions of Manipur’s ‘integrity’ or a Meitei communal militia?

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2024: Peace, a distant dream for Manipur

Fresh violence grips Manipur: Clashes in Jiribam and widespread protests after rape and brutal killings

Manipur on Edge: Violent Clashes Erupt on the day following Kuki-Zo Protests Demanding Separate Administration, action against state CM based on leaked tapes

The post Manipur gang-rape survivor dies without justice, three years after 2023 ethnic violence appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The controversial and recently conducted elections to the civic body –given huge allegations of malpractices in voter lists (exclusion of voters), delible ink being used, introduction of new machines etc. were conducted over 24 administrative wards. From sewerage operations to public health, the BMC handles local civic issues in these wards, named alphabetically from A to T. Each administrative ward is further subdivided into smaller electoral wards for which corporators are elected. There are 227 of these electoral wards. Out of these, 113 fall under the General Category, while 114 are reserved for women, including women belonging to the Scheduled Castes, the Scheduled Tribes, and the Backwards Class of Citizens. So 121 women elected in all.

Of these 121 women, there are 14 Muslim women and one Christian woman. The break up party wise is as follows:

BJP’s winning women candidates

Ward 2 – Tejaswi Ghosadkar

Ward 8 – Yogita Patil

Ward 13 – Rani Dwivedi-Nighot

Ward 14 – Seema Kiran Shinde

Ward 15 – Jigna Shah

Ward 16 – Shweta Korgaonkar

Ward 17 – Dr Shilpa Sangore

Ward 19 – Dakshata Kavthankar

Ward 21 – Leena Deherkar

Ward 24 – Swait Jaiswal

Ward 25 – Nisha Bangera

Ward 27 – Neelam Gurav

Ward 31 – Manisha Yadav

Ward 44    – Sangeeta Sharma

Ward 46 – Yogita Koli

Ward 52    – Priti Satam

Ward 57 – Shrikala Pille

Ward 60    – Saylee Kulkarni

Ward 69 – Sudha Singh

Ward 71 – Sunita Makvani

Ward 72    – Mamta Yadav

Ward 80 – Disha Yadav

Wars 81 – Kesarben Murji Patel

Ward 82    – Ameen Jagdeshwari

Ward 84 – Anjali Samant

Ward 98    – Alka Kerkar

Ward 100 – Swapna Mhatre

Ward 103 – Hetal Gala

Ward 105 – Anita Vaiti

Ward 108 – Deepika Ghag

Ward 112 – Sakshi Dalvi

Ward 116 – Jagruti Patil

Ward 126 – Archana Bhalerao

Ward 129 – Ashwini Matekar

Ward 131 – Rakhi Jadhav

Ward 132 – Ritu Tavde

Ward 149 – Sushma Sawant

Ward 151 – Kashish Phulwariya

Ward 152 – Asha Marathe

Ward 172 – Rajeshri Shirvadkar

Ward 173 – Shilpa Keluskar

Ward 174 – Sakshi Kanojia

Ward 176 – Rekha Yadav

Ward 190 – Sheetal Gambhir

Ward 218 – Snehal Tendulkar

Ward 222 – Rita Makvana

Ward 227 – Gaoravi Shivalkar-Narwekar

These total 47 women councillors

Shiv Sena (UBT) women councillors

Ward 12 – Sarika Zhore

Ward 32 – Geeta Bhandari

Ward 39 – Pushpa Kalambe

Ward 56 – Laxmi Nitin Bhatiya

Ward 64 – Khan Rashid

Ward 73 – Lona Rawat

Ward 77 – Shivani Parab

Ward 83 – Sonali Sabe

Ward 88 – Sharvari Parab

Ward 93 – Rohini Kamble

Ward 94 – Pragya Bhutkar

Ward 114 – Rajul Patil

Ward 117 – Shweta Pawaskar

Ward 118 – Sunita Jadhav

Ward 121 – Priyadarshini Nagesh

Ward 124 – Sakina Ayub Sheikh

Ward 127 – Swarupa Patil

Ward 153 – Minakshi Patankar

Ward 155 – Snehal Shivkar

Ward 157 – Dr. Sarita Mhaske

Ward 158 – Chitra Sangle

Ward 169 – Pravina Morajkar

Ward 171 – Adv. Rani Yerunkar

Ward 186 – Archana Shinde

Ward 189- Harshala More

Ward 191 – Vishakha Raut

Ward 193 – Hemangi Varlikar

Ward 198 – Aboli Khadiye

Ward 199 – Kishori Pednekar

Ward 200 – Urmila Panchal

Ward 202 – Shraddha Jadhav

Ward 203 – Shraddha Pednekar

Ward 210 – Sonam Jamsudkar

Ward 220 – Sampada Mayekar

This totals 34 women corporators from SS (UBT).

Shiv Sena (Shinde faction) women councillors:

Ward 1 – Rekha Yadav

Ward 11 – Dr. Aditi Khursange

Ward 18 – Sandhya Doshi

Ward 42 – Dhanashree Bharadkar

Ward 51 – Varsha Tembvalkar

Ward 78 – Sofi Abdul Jabbar

Ward 133 – Nirmiti Kanade

Ward 142 – Apeksha Khandekar

Ward 146 – Samruddhi Kate

Ward 147 – Pragya Sadafule

Ward 148 – Anjali Naik

Ward 156 – Ashwini Matekar

Ward 160 – Kiran Landge

Ward 163 – Shaila Lande

Ward 166 – Minal Sanjay Turde

Ward 180 – Trushna Vishvasrao

Ward 209 – Yamini Jadhav

This totals 17 women corporators.

Women Corporators from Congress:

Ward 33 – Qamar Jahan Moin Siddiqui

Ward 28 – Ajanta Yadav

Ward 61 – Divya Sinh

Ward 90 – Adv. Tulip Miranda

Ward 110 – Asha Suresh Koparkar

Ward 101 – Karen Dmello

Ward 150 – Vaishali Ajit Shendekar

Ward 179 – Ayesha Vanu

Ward 183 – Asha Kale

Ward 184 – Sajida Khan

Ward 213 – Nasima Javed Juneja

Ward 216 – Rajashree Bhatankar

Ward 224- Ruksana Parikh Nurulamin

This makes a total of 13 women candidates.

MNS Four Women Councillors

Ward 38 – Surekha Parab

Ward 74 – Vidha Aarya

Ward 128 – Sae Shirke

Ward 205- Supriya Dilip Dalvi

AIMIM: (Four councillors)

Ward 134 – Mehjabin Khan

Ward 139 – Shabana Sheikh

Ward 143 – Shabana Kazi

Ward 145 – Khairunnisa Hussein

Samajwadi Party (One woman candidate who won)

Ward 212 – Abrahani Amrin Shehzad

Nationalist Congress Party (One woman candidate who won)

Ward 168 – Dr Saeeda Khan

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The post BMC: Women corporators past the 50% mark, 121 women get elected in 2026 appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Recent judicial interventions—particularly the Supreme Court’s directions to High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack trials and the Allahabad High Court’s decision to convert a long-pending PIL on acid sale regulation into a suo moto proceeding—underscore that the crisis is no longer doctrinal but institutional as per reports in LiveLaw. Despite pathbreaking jurisprudence laid down after a decade long legal battle in the Laxmi case, the Supreme Court was compelled, in 2025, while hearing a petition highlighting a 16-year delay in an acid attack trial, to describe the situation as a “shame on the system” and a “mockery of justice”. The SC then directed all High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack cases.

This Legal Resource examines acid attack jurisprudence not as a static body of law but as a pattern of repeated judicial correction, necessitated by persistent failures of implementation. Drawing from case law, legislative history, policy frameworks, and scholarly critiques, it argues that acid attack jurisprudence today reveals the limits of law when administrative and procedural systems fail to internalise constitutional mandates.

Laxmi v. Union of India: Constitutionalising Survivor-Centric Justice

The jurisprudential foundation of acid attack regulation in India was laid by Laxmi v. Union of India, a public interest litigation (PIL) filed in 2006 by survivor Laxmi Aggarwal. Laxmi was 15 yrs old in 2005 when a 32-old man, Naeem Khan, approached her with a marriage proposal. After she rejected him, nearly ten months later, Naeem again proposed to her; upon her second refusal, he attacked her by throwing acid on her face, with his brother Kamran aiding him in the act.

Argued consistently by Senior Advocate Aparna Bhat, the petition reframed acid violence as a failure of State regulation rather than an isolated criminal act. The Supreme Court accepted this framing, holding that the unrestricted availability of acid, absence of medical support, and lack of compensation mechanisms violated Article 21 of the Constitution (see Laxmi v. Union of India, (2014) 4 SCC 427).

Across multiple orders, the Court issued structural directions mandating the regulation of acid sales, free medical treatment for survivors in both public and private hospitals, and minimum compensation of ₹3 lakh. These directions were significant not merely for their content but for their constitutional logic: dignity, bodily integrity, and rehabilitation were recognised as enforceable rights, not discretionary welfare measures.

This shift has been closely analysed in legal scholarship. The NLS Law Journal notes that Laxmi represents a rare moment where Indian courts explicitly connected criminal law reform with long-term socio-economic rehabilitation, recognising acid attacks as producing lifelong disabilities requiring sustained State intervention rather than one-time relief (see Ajita Tandon, Acid Attacks in India: A Judicial and Legislative Response, NLS Law Journal, Vol. 13, available here).

From Judicial Directions to Statutory Reform: Codification Without Capacity

Following Laxmi, the Law Commission of India was impleaded and submitted Report No. 226 (2008), recommending a distinct offence for acid attacks and stronger regulation of corrosive substances (report available here). These recommendations later informed the Justice Verma Committee Report (2013), which acknowledged acid violence as a gendered crime requiring specific legislative recognition.

This culminated in the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013, which inserted Sections 326A and 326B of the IPC, along with Section 357B of the CrPC, mandating compensation in addition to fines. On paper, these provisions created a comprehensive framework combining punishment, deterrence, and victim relief. The specific recognition of acid attacks introduced via Sections 326A and 326B of the IPC has been largely preserved in the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS) to maintain the gravity of the offense. These translated into Sections 124(1) and 124(2) under the BNS, 2023, which read as –

124.  (1) Whoever causes permanent or partial damage or deformity to, or burns or maims or disfigures or disables, any part or parts of the body of a person or causes grievous hurt by throwing acid on or by administering acid to that person, or by using any other means with the intention of causing or with the knowledge that he is likely to cause such injury or hurt or causes a person to be in a permanent vegetative state shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which shall not be less than ten years but which may extend to imprisonment for life, and with fine:

(2) Whoever throws or attempts to throw acid on any person or attempts to administer acid to any person, or attempts to use any other means, with the intention of causing permanent or partial damage or deformity or burns or maiming or disfigurement or disability or grievous hurt to that person, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which shall not be less than five years but which may extend to seven years, and shall also be liable to fine.

However, scholarship consistently highlights that legislative codification did not translate into institutional readiness. As Ajita Tandon’s analysis points out, while the law “responded swiftly in text,” the administrative machinery required for compensation disbursal, rehabilitation, and prioritised trials remained fragmented and uneven across States.

Trial Delays and the Right to Speedy Justice: A Systemic Breakdown

The most severe manifestation of this institutional failure has been the extraordinary delay in criminal trials involving acid attacks. In 2025, the Supreme Court, while hearing a petition highlighting a 16-year delay in an acid attack trial, described the situation as a “shame on the system” and a “mockery of justice”, and directed all High Courts to furnish data on pending acid attack cases, reported by LiveLaw.

This intervention is constitutionally significant. Acid attack cases engage the right to speedy trial under Article 21 in its most aggravated form: survivors suffer irreversible physical harm, prolonged psychological trauma, and social stigma, all of which are compounded by procedural delay. The Court’s insistence on national data collection implicitly acknowledges that delay itself functions as a form of secondary victimisation.

The consequences of such delay are visible in outcomes. In a 2009 acid attack case, a Delhi court acquitted the accused after nearly 16 years, citing evidentiary weaknesses that had emerged over time—an outcome widely reported as emblematic of systemic delay undermining prosecution itself, as per a report in The Times of India.

While the recent SC directives may we welcome, the issues and failures are systemic. One after another of human rights issues, whether it be the transparency within police conducts in police stations (SC directive on installation of CCTVs in all Police Stations)[1] or right of the accused to fair trial (directives laid down in DK Basu)[2], the police and administration have consistently ignored the breakthroughs made by the court. This amounts to institutional amnesia or downright defiance.

Regulation of Acid Sales: Judicial Supervision in the Face of Executive Inertia

Despite unequivocal directions in Laxmi, regulation of acid sales remains inconsistent. This failure came sharply into focus when the Allahabad High Court converted a decade-old PIL on acid sale regulation into a suo motu proceeding, holding that issues of acid regulation and survivor compensation implicate continuing public interest and cannot be abandoned due to petitioner withdrawal, reported LiveLaw.

The Court also reiterated that compensation cannot be made contingent on the identification or conviction of the offender, reinforcing the constitutional principle that survivor relief flows from State obligation, not prosecutorial success. This episode exemplifies a recurring pattern in acid attack jurisprudence: courts are repeatedly forced to re-enter regulatory terrain they have already mapped, due to executive inaction.

Compensation and Rehabilitation: Between Entitlement and Administrative Apathy

Compensation has remained central to acid attack jurisprudence since Laxmi, yet its implementation has been deeply uneven. The Ministry of Home Affairs’ 2024 guidelines reiterate that acid attack survivors are entitled to a minimum compensation of ₹3 lakh and free medical treatment (guidelines available here). However, High Court interventions reveal persistent delays and bureaucratic indifference.

For instance, the Allahabad High Court has censured the Uttar Pradesh government for delays extending over a decade in disbursing compensation to acid attack survivors, describing such conduct as insensitive and violative of constitutional obligations, reported by The Times of India.

Socio-legal scholarship criticises this model for reducing rehabilitation to symbolic monetary relief, often divorced from the realities of lifelong medical care, psychological counselling, loss of livelihood, and social reintegration (see IJLMH, A Socio-Legal Analysis on Acid Attacks in India, available here).

NCRB data provides only a partial picture of acid attack violence. While annual figures record reported cases, they offer little insight into trial duration, pendency, or access to compensation. Recent analyses indicate that a substantial majority of acid attack cases remain pending for years, while conviction rates remain low.

Scholars caution that these figures significantly understate the scale of the problem due to under-reporting driven by stigma, fear, and lack of institutional support—concerns repeatedly flagged in academic literature.

The Cultural Lens: Chhapaak

The 2020 film Chhapaak, while a significant cultural milestone in sensitising the public to the horrors of acid violence, also became a focal point for a profound legal debate regarding the “moral rights” and visibility of legal professionals. Advocate Aparna Bhat, who represented Laxmi Agarwal for over a decade—from the initial trial at Patiala House Courts to the landmark Supreme Court PIL—approached the Delhi High Court when the filmmakers failed to acknowledge her contribution in the credits. This omission raised a critical ethical and legal question: can the labour of a lawyer, which provides the very documentary and procedural backbone of a “true story,” be erased in its cinematic retelling? The Delhi High Court, invoking the doctrine of promissory estoppel, ruled in Bhat’s favour, noting that her assistance was provided on the assurance of recognition. Bar and Bench reported that the court directed that the line, “Inputs by Ms. Aparna Bhat, the lawyer who represented Laxmi Agarwal, are acknowledged,” be added to the film. This intervention was not merely about a “thank you”; it was a judicial validation of the role of legal activists in translating personal trauma into transformative constitutional reform.

Conclusion

The trajectory of acid attack jurisprudence in India reveals a striking pattern. Courts have articulated robust constitutional principles, legislatures have codified them into law, and yet survivors continue to face delay, neglect, and regulatory failure. The problem today is not doctrinal uncertainty but institutional inertia.

Without administrative accountability, procedural reform, and sustained investment in survivor rehabilitation, even the most progressive jurisprudence risks becoming symbolic. Acid attack law in India now stands at an inflection point: its future efficacy will depend not on further judicial creativity, but on whether the State finally honours the constitutional commitments already laid down by the courts.

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

[1] This earlier resource explores the suo motu by SC in September 2025 action highlights how weak compliance with its own (SC) 2020 CCTV directions has left detainees vulnerable and accountability elusive.

[2] Another judicial directive that spanned decades, DK Basu,but which directives stand un-implemented.

Related:

When ‘Marginal’ Means Massive: The invisible weight of gendered violence in NCRB crime statistics 2023

Disfigured but not defeated: Hajida, an acid attack survivor, ensured the culprit does not get away. Now she needs your help

Jharkhand HC expresses dismay over Govt.’s lack of response to compliance orders for Acid Attack survivors

The post Acid Attacks: The judicial struggle to regulate acid violence in India appeared first on SabrangIndia.

मैं दिल्ली हाईकोर्ट गेट नंबर 5 के बाहर उन्नाव रेप पीड़िता के न्याय के लिए खड़ी हूँ। चुप रहना अपराध है।#UnnaoRapeCase #JusticeForUnnaoVictim pic.twitter.com/xfePXbLpTu

— Yogita Bhayana योगिता भयाना (@yogitabhayana) December 26, 2025

These protests have taken place amid grave concerns expressed by the Unnao rape survivor and her family over the suspension of the BJP politician, Sengar’s jail term. Responding to the high court order, the survivor told Hindustan Times, “I am extremely upset by what has happened today in the court.” She also said she felt “extremely unsafe” after learning about the bail conditions granted to Sengar.

Additionally, speaking to ANI news agency on Friday, the victim’s mother expressed strong objection to the bail, saying, “His bail should be rejected… We will knock on the doors of the Supreme Court. We have lost faith in the high court… If we don’t get justice in the Supreme Court, we will go to another country… The person guilty of my husband’s murder should be hanged immediately.”

It is only after this determined expression of the need for justice, public outrage and protests from December 21-24 that the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), announced its late evening decision on December 25, 2025 to appeal this suspension of sentence and bail to Sengar, BJP leader and former MLA.

Photographs shared by the news agency showed security personnel asking protesters to put an end the demonstration immediately, warning that legal action would be taken if they did not disperse within five minutes. Women’s rights activist Yogita Bhayana, who was present at the protest, said, “Women across India are deeply hurt that the sentence of a rapist has been overturned. This happened in this very court. So, we will seek justice from the same place where the injustice occurred,” ANI reported.

Yet another protester told ANI, “On what grounds was Kuldeep Sengar granted bail, when it was declared that he had committed rapes and murders? If a life sentence was given to him, then why is he out?… We demand that the rapist should go behind bars so women feel safe.”

Kuldeep Sengar was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment in December 2019 for the rape of a 17-year-old girl in Uttar Pradesh’s Unnao in 2017. On Tuesday, the Delhi High Court suspended the expelled Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) leader’s life sentence, noting that he had already served more than the maximum punishment prescribed under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act.

An earlier protest in the capital was also met with forcible eviction by the Delhi police.

एक गैंगरेप पीड़िता के साथ ऐसा व्यवहार उच्चित है???

उसकी यही गलती है कि न्याय की माँग कर रही है ?

ये कैसा न्याय है ???#JusticeForUnnaoVictim pic.twitter.com/F1mSmOhQEs

— Yogita Bhayana योगिता भयाना (@yogitabhayana) December 23, 2025

CRPF Intimidation?

The court’s judgement has triggered fresh fears within the survivor’s family, despite the order barring Sengar from coming within a five-kilometre radius of her. The survivor’s family has also been granted protection by the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF). However, controversy has also been generated over the politicisation of this para-military protection including political interference, when earlier this week, the survivor and her family were trying to travel by road to Delhi to meet with advocates. According to an interview played out on social media she told activist and supporter Yogita Bhayana that initially the CRPF tried actively to prevent her travelling to Delhi for legal advice and redressal and only when she raised her voice in objection “was she allowed.” This raises serious questions on the active monitoring and interference in witness protection ordered by the court especially since the para-military forces like the CRPF come under the union home ministry.

Listen to the video on this tweet

पीड़िता के साथ ऐसा व्यवहार gazab – आप खुद सुनिए उन्नाव गैंगरेप पीड़िता को

निःशब्द….#JusticeForUnnaoVictim pic.twitter.com/StjZiCxbMA

— Yogita Bhayana योगिता भयाना (@yogitabhayana) December 24, 2025

The survivor cited past incidents to explain her concerns, saying, “He is a powerful man. He would get his men to do his dirty work for him. When my car met with an accident in which two of my relatives and my lawyer died in 2019, Sengar didn’t do it himself. His henchmen did. Now that he is out, we are all unsafe.”

Now 24, the survivor is a resident of Delhi. Following the grant of conditional bail to Sengar, she has been provided court-ordered protection and is accompanied by five to 11 Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) personnel at all times. However, her mother has said that security cover provided to her and her three children until March this year (2025) was subsequently withdrawn.

Related:

Delhi HC grants bail pending appeal to Unnao rape convict Kuldeep Singh Sengar

Unnao rape case: Kuldeep Singh Sengar convicted

Ex-BJP MLA Kuldeep Sengar, brother convicted in Unnao rape survivor’s father’s death

The post Protest outside Delhi HC gate over bail in Unnao rape case, survivor’s mother asks for maximum punishment appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A division bench of Justices Subramonium Prasad and Harish Vaidyanathan Shankar. Sengar was directed to furnish a personal bond of Rs 15 lakh along with three sureties of the same amount.

Several conditions were imposed by the high court on Sengar’s release. Among these, he has been barred from entering within a five-kilometre radius of the survivor’s residence and has been instructed not to threaten or contact the survivor or her mother. The court has also directed him to remain in Delhi during the period of bail and to report to the police every Monday. It stated that any violation of any of these conditions would result in cancellation of bail, LiveLaw reported.

The court held that at this stage the offence under section 5(c) of the POSCO Act was not made out. The judgement argued that at this stage the offence did not amount to aggravated sexual assault under Section 5 of the POSCO Act.

The Delhi High Court judgement overturns, in large part, the judgement dated December 16, 2019 passed by the learned District & Sessions Judge – West District, Tis Hazari Courts, Delhi [“learned Trial Court”] in Sessions Case No. 448/2019 arising out of FIR No. 96/2018 registered at Police Station Makhi, Unnao, Uttar Pradesh, reregistered as RC-08(S)/2018, PS CBI/ACB/Lucknow.

Sengar, reports The Hindu, who is currently lodged in prison, will, however, remain in jail as he is also serving a 10-year sentence in the custodial death case of the rape victim’s father. Sengar, it has been alleged, kidnapped the girl and raped her in 2017, when she was still a minor. The rape case and other connected cases were transferred to Delhi from a trial court in Uttar Pradesh on the directions of the Supreme Court in August 2019.

Now, following the December 23 order, the suspension of sentence will remain in force during the pendency of Sengar’s appeal challenging his conviction and sentence awarded by a Delhi trial court in December 2019. In that verdict, the trial court had convicted him for the rape of a 17-year-old girl and sentenced him to life imprisonment, along with imposing a fine of Rs 25 lakh. The trial court observed, that there were no mitigating circumstances and noted that Sengar, an elected public representative at the time, had breached public trust.

The rape case and three connected cases were transferred from Uttar Pradesh to Delhi by order of the Supreme Court on August 1, 2019 with directions for day-to-day hearings. The survivor was provided court-mandated protection measures following the conviction, including the option of a safe house and change of identity.

Sengar’s appeal against his separate conviction in the custodial death case of the survivor’s father is still awaiting a judicial outcome. In that case, he has been sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment. He has sought suspension of sentence on the ground that he has already spent a substantial period in custody.

There is also a third case reports The Times of India– a collision on the road in which the survivor and her lawyer were critically injured and two of her aunts were killed – a separate case had been registered against Sengar. In December 2021, a Delhi court discharged him in that matter, holding that there was no evidence linking him to the incident.

Yesterday, Tuesday December 23, Delhi police detailed the protesting family members of the Survivor at India Gate. Visuals of the Delhi police manhandling protesters have been circulating on social media.

Rapist & former BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar:

>Raped a 17-year-old minor girl.
>Police did not act against him.
>Girl attempted self-immolation.
>Case was later taken up by CBI
>Killed victim’s father
>a court convicted him of rape.
>sentenced to life imprisonment.
>a truck of… pic.twitter.com/QPOFwaDfeb

— Mohit Chauhan (@mohitlaws) December 23, 2025

Unnao rape survivor protesting at the India gate against the Delhi High Court order suspending sentence of ex-UP BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar was bundled in a van by the police. pic.twitter.com/KPybock3LI

— Piyush Rai (@Benarasiyaa) December 24, 2025

A battery of close two dozen advocates represented Kildeep Sengar in the Delhi High Court: these were N Hariharan Sr Adv, SPM Tripathi, Amit Sinha, Deepak Sharma, Rahul Poonia, Mr. Ambuj Singh, Ashish Tiwari, Gaurav Kumar, Saurabh Dwivedi, Ms. Punya Rekha, Ms. Angara, Ms. Vasundhara N, Aman Akhtar, Sana Singh, Vasundhara Raj Tyagi, Mr. Arjan Singh Mandla, Ms. Gauri Ramachandran, Manish Vashisht, Sr. Advocate with Ms. Aishwarya Sengar, Mr. Vedansh Vashisht and Mr. Swapan Singhal.

The judgement of the Delhi High Court may be read here.

Background

Sengar, from Bangarmau in Uttar Pradesh, was accused in connection with a 2017 case involving a teenage girl from Unnao district. An FIR was eventually registered against him under the criminal law and the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act following the allegations. On April 3, 2018, the girl’s father was allegedly assaulted by individuals linked to Sengar and later died on April 8 after falling ill while in custody. A local shopkeeper, who had reportedly witnessed the assault gave a statement to the CBI and later died under unexplained circumstances on August 18, 2018.

The case drew national attention and outrage after the girl attempted self-harm outside the Uttar Pradesh chief minister’s residence and was subsequently critically injured in a road collision that resulted in the deaths of two family members. In 2019, the Supreme Court transferred the case and three related matters from Uttar Pradesh to Delhi and ordered expedited hearings. In December 2019, a Delhi trial court convicted Sengar in the main case. He was also sentenced separately to ten years’ imprisonment in the custodial death case relating to the girl’s father.

Now

On December 23, 2025, the Delhi High Court suspended Sengar’s life sentence and granted him bail pending the outcome of his appeal. The order was passed by Justices Subramonium Prasad and Harish Vaidyanathan Shankar, subject to Sengar furnishing a personal bond of Rs 15 lakh with three sureties.

The court directed that Sengar must not enter within a five-kilometre radius of the complainant’s residence, must not contact or intimidate her or her family, must remain in Delhi during the bail period, and must report to the police every Monday. It stated that any breach of these conditions would lead to cancellation of bail. To be precise, the high court has suspended the life sentence awarded to Sengar for the duration of the pendency of his appeal. The suspension is what legally allows the court to grant him bail.

Related:

Unnao rape case: Kuldeep Singh Sengar convicted

Ex-BJP MLA Kuldeep Sengar, brother convicted in Unnao rape survivor’s father’s death

Will Sangita Sengar talk about BJP’s beti bachao slogan when campaigning in UP?

The post Delhi HC grants bail pending appeal to Unnao rape convict Kuldeep Singh Sengar appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This questionable decision was made during a meeting of the Chaudhary community held last Sunday in Gazipur village, Jalore district, chaired by Sujnaram Chaudhary, the president of the 14 pattis (subdivisions). The meeting was chaired by community president Sujanaram Chaudhary, with elders deliberating on mobile phone usage within families. The resolution was formally read out by Panch Himmataram and proposed by Devaram Karnol, community members said. The controversial “ban”, it is reported, will be enforced in villages including Gajipura, Pavli, Kalra, Manojia Vas, Rajikawas, Datlawas, Rajpura, Kodi, Sidrodi, Alri, Ropsi, Khanadeval, Savidhar, Hathmi ki Dhani of Bhinmal, and Khanpur, all of which fall within the Patti region of Jalore district.

It was while speaking to PTI, that Chaudhary said that Panch Himmtaram announced the decision. According to Himmtaram, after discussions among panch members and community members, it was decided that daughters-in-law and young women would exclusively use keypad phones for calling.

Besides this, school-going girls who need mobile phones for their studies may use them only at home. They are not allowed to take mobile phones to weddings, social events, or even to a neighbour’s house, Chaudhary further explained, Chaudhary mentioned further. No restrictions have been reportedly placed on boys going to school, however!

When he was questioned on the opposition regarding the panchayat’s decision, Chaudhary clarified that this measure was taken because children often use the mobile phones of women in their households, which may negatively affect their eyesight. He noted that some women give their phones to children to keep them distracted, allowing them to focus on their daily chores.

The New Indian Express reported how Jalore has witnessed similar controversial community diktats in the past. Last year, 2024, local elders ordered the social boycott of two families after a young couple entered into a love marriage, imposing a fine of ₹12 lakh for their re-entry into the community. The couple later approached the Bhinmal police, following which police intervened and facilitated a compromise with most elders, though a few continued to justify the boycott.

June 2025, Caste panchayat enforces social boycott of 55 families in Jalore

In another similar incident in June, a caste panchayat in Jalore announced a social boycott of 55 families over a long-standing dispute related to temple land between two factions of the same extended family. The diktat barred community members from attending weddings, social functions, and even funerals of the affected families. The panchayat also warned that anyone who raised objections would face excommunication and monetary penalties. A complaint in connection with the matter was subsequently lodged at the Bagra police station.

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The post Rajasthan panchayat in Jalore district bans camera phones for daughters-in-law appeared first on SabrangIndia.

According to Enewsroom and television media reports, Dr Parveen was scheduled to assume charge as an AYUSH doctor on December 20, but has chosen to step away following the incident. Her brother told a media channel that the decision was taken due to the severe mental distress she has been under since the public humiliation. “We are trying to convince her. If someone else committed the mistake, why should she be forced to sacrifice her career?” he said.

The Hindustan Gazette reported that Dr Parveen and her family have declined to speak publicly, but sources close to them confirmed that the incident has had a profound emotional impact on her.

What happened at the appointment ceremony

The incident occurred on Monday, December 17, at ‘Samvad’, the Chief Minister’s secretariat, during the distribution of appointment letters to over 1,000 AYUSH doctors. When Dr Parveen approached the stage wearing a hijab partially covering her face, Nitish Kumar was heard asking, “What is this?” On being told it was a hijab, he asked her to remove it—and then pulled it down himself, as seen in a viral video.

Deputy Chief Minister Samrat Chaudhary was visibly seen tugging at Kumar’s sleeve in an apparent attempt to stop him. Dr Parveen appeared visibly uncomfortable as laughter erupted from sections of the audience. She was subsequently handed the appointment letter again and ushered off the stage.

Media barred as fallout grows

In the aftermath, media entry was restricted at Nitish Kumar’s programme in Gaya on Wednesday, where he attended a two-day workshop organised by the Bihar Institute of Public Administration and Rural Development (BIPARD). The event was not live-streamed on the JD(U)’s official platforms, a notable departure from standard practice.

Media had also been barred a day earlier during the energy department’s appointment letter distribution programme, signalling an apparent attempt to contain public scrutiny amid rising outrage.

UP Minister’s defence sparks fresh controversy

The controversy further escalated after Uttar Pradesh Fisheries Minister Sanjay Nishad defended Nitish Kumar, stating that touching the hijab should not be made into an issue. His remarks drew sharp condemnation when he said, “What would have happened if he had touched somewhere else?”—a statement widely criticised as misogynistic and sexually suggestive.

Following backlash, Nishad released a video clarification claiming the Chief Minister’s intention was merely to ensure a clear photograph. He described his language as common rural expression from Purvanchal and denied any intent to insult women or Muslims, though he later said he withdrew his words if anyone felt hurt.

FIRs filed, political condemnation mounts

Police complaints have since been filed in Lucknow and Hyderabad, according to ANI and The Hindustan Gazette. Samajwadi Party spokesperson Sumaiya Rana, daughter of poet Munawwar Rana, lodged an FIR against both Nitish Kumar and Sanjay Nishad, calling the incident and the subsequent remarks a dangerous precedent. “This is harassment by someone holding a constitutional post,” Rana said, adding that such conduct emboldens others in positions of power.

SP MP Ikra Hasan condemned the act, stating that pulling a woman’s clothing or hijab is “wrong and dangerous” and sends a deeply disturbing message to society. “This is not about religion. Making a woman uncomfortable by touching her clothing is harassment,” she said.

According to the report of India Today, Congress demanded Nitish Kumar’s resignation, while the Rashtriya Janata Dal mocked the Chief Minister on social media, questioning his mental state and ideological shift.

Omar Abdullah: ‘Public humiliation cannot be justified’

Jammu and Kashmir Chief Minister Omar Abdullah strongly criticised Nitish Kumar, calling the incident “unacceptable” and reflective of a regressive mindset. Speaking to reporters in Srinagar, he said such actions echoed earlier instances of public humiliation of Muslim women.

“If the Chief Minister did not wish to hand over the appointment letter, he could have stepped aside. But humiliating a woman in public is completely wrong,” Omar said, as reported by Greater Kashmir, adding that the incident has exposed the erosion of the secular image Nitish Kumar once projected.

Women’s groups cite constitutional violations

Women’s rights groups and Muslim organisations have strongly condemned the incident. The National Federation of Girl Islamic Organisation (GIO) described the act as a “blatant violation of personal dignity and religious freedom,” demanding a public apology from the Chief Minister.

Hyderabad-based women’s rights activist Khalida Praveen, who filed a complaint against Kumar, stated that forcibly removing a Muslim woman’s veil violates Article 21 (right to dignity and privacy) and Article 25 (freedom of religion) of the Constitution, besides constituting an offence under criminal law.

Why the act raises criminal liability, not just political questions

It must be stressed that the Chief Minister’s conduct cannot be reduced to a moment of poor judgment or political controversy alone. The non-consensual act of physically pulling down a woman’s hijab in public, particularly by a person in authority, may attract criminal liability under laws meant to protect a woman’s dignity and bodily autonomy.

Under Section 74 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, assault or use of criminal force against a woman with intent to outrage, or with knowledge that such act is likely to outrage, her modesty is a punishable offence. Courts have clarified that “modesty” is not limited to sexual intent but includes acts that humiliate, violate privacy, or strip a woman of dignity, especially in public spaces.

The absence of consent and the clear power imbalance between a Chief Minister and a newly appointed woman doctor further aggravate the seriousness of the act. Consent cannot be presumed in a setting where a woman is placed under public scrutiny by the State itself, and visible discomfort, as captured on video, strengthens the argument that the act was inherently humiliating and foreseeable in its impact.

Beyond criminal law, the incident also implicates constitutional protections under Article 21, which guarantees dignity, privacy, and personal autonomy, and Article 25, which protects the freedom to practise religion. Legal complaints filed in multiple states argue that forcibly removing a Muslim woman’s hijab amounts to both gendered humiliation and interference with religious expression, making the incident not merely inappropriate—but potentially unlawful.

A chilling message from a constitutional office

As Dr Nusrat Parveen contemplates abandoning a government career she earned on merit, the incident has triggered a wider national debate on power, consent, gender, and religious freedom in state-controlled spaces.

What occurred on a public stage was not merely an individual lapse, but a reminder of how women—particularly from minority communities—remain vulnerable to humiliation even within the framework of the State itself.

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The post When Power Forgets Consent: How a public act by the Bihar Chief Minister derailed a doctor’s career appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A division bench of Justice Manoj Kumar Gupta and Justice Arun Kumar had then observed the necessity of addressing the procedural lags that often hinder timely medical intervention for survivors of sexual assault incidents (In Re Framing Of Guidelines For Sensitizing All Concerned In Cases Of Termination Of Pregnancies-cause title). To assist the Court in this crucial and significant matter, the bench has also appointed Advocate Mahima Maurya as the Amicus Curiae.

On November 27, the Amicus Curiae and Additional Chief Standing Counsel Rajiv Gupta, appearing for the State, made submissions with various suggestions to sensitise authorities and streamline the process. The matter is listed next on January 13. The High Court is expected to deliberate further on the suggestions provided to ensure that appropriate guidelines are framed for sensitizing all concerned in cases of termination of pregnancies.

The first order in this case taking suo moto cognizance was passed on October 23, 2025 after which the matter was listed on October 16, October 30, November 7 (during which hearing Ms. Mahima Maurya Kushwaha, Amicus Curiae and Shri Rajiv Gupta, the additional chief standing counsel for the state of Uttar Pradesh (UP) made submissions giving various suggestions). The matter was listed thereafter on December 15, 2025 when the last order was passed listing the matter on January 13, 2026.

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In a special hearing, SC bench hears petition on termination of pregnancy, expresses dismay over lackadaisical approach of Gujarat HC

Married woman has the autonomy to choose termination of pregnancy, not medical board: Bombay HC

Medical Termination of Pregnancy Act Failing Women Who Need It The Most

The post Allahabad High Court registers suo moto PIL over delays in termination of pregnancy of rape survivors appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Looking at her 18-month-old daughter, Ayesha said, “Nurul wanted a girl, and here she is, but he is not. We were both only children. We didn’t want our child to grow up alone, but now she will. When she was born, so much was happening. No help reached me, but rumours spread that I was living comfortably with money. My in-laws abandoned me. My parents were under strain too. Some even blamed me for Nurul’s death. Then, the worst happened—my milk dried up just a month after Ashnoor’s birth. Breastfeeding stopped completely. The child had already lost her father’s shadow, and now this.” Ashnoor babbled on, pointing at her milk bottle.

Samreen’s daughter, two years old and a few months older than Ashnoor, has seen her father, Aamir. She played with him, teased him, and tired him out. She knows his face well. But she also saw him hanging from a fan, overwhelmed by a strangers’ cruelty. She doesn’t understand what it means. She asks Samreen, “Abbu went to the village. When will he come back?” Samreen pulls her close and pats her. What else can she do? Her wound is still fresh, from May 2025. In Latur’s Maidan Chowk, Aamir was beaten, called a Pakistani. They grabbed his collar, his belt, humiliated him, and recorded it on their phones. The label “Pakistani” shattered him. The next night, after 8 p.m., he took his life. It was a Sunday. Samreen said, “Every night from 8 to 9, I feel restless. Sad. How can I sleep in that room after his death? I stayed with my in-laws for 40 days, never sleeping before 3 a.m. Now, sometimes, I feel nothing at all. No one is truly yours. You carry your pain alone. Sundays used to excite me; now they scare me. Sometimes I think it was all a bad dream, and maybe it’s better that it broke.” Her voice trembles slightly. Her eyes well up. She removes her glasses, wipes her eyes gently, and with a mix of anger and detachment, says, “No one who promised help actually helped. Not even the police. Now I think, will doing anything bring him back? No. So I’m just trying to hold myself together.” For a moment, she stares into space, as if wrestling with herself.

“The situation in Vishalgad and Gajapur has been tense for years,” said Shaheen Mujawar from Vishalgad, her voice tinged with fear. “It gets worse during festivals like Shiv Jayanti and Mahashivratri.” Aggressive sloganeering by some groups creates fear and unease. “Last year, on July 14, 2024, the violence during the so-called Vishalgad anti-encroachment campaign still haunts us. Some slogans were so offensive, it’s hard to repeat them publicly. After that, many children on the fort fell ill. Women went silent. For days, they didn’t know what was happening. Many couldn’t sleep at night. With no jobs now, even salt feels expensive, and the stress on women is immense. That day, just the news of the attack gave one of our relatives a heart attack, and he died on the spot. This year, on July 14, the same fear returned. Sixty percent of the people on the fort left voluntarily. No one wants to die bit by bit,” Shaheen said, her words vivid, as if reliving it all.

In India, a country rich with diversity, communal tensions between religious groups sometimes turn violent. In recent years, openly provocative speeches against Muslims have increased. Muslim men are targeted, attacked, and killed in the name of cow protection. Social media is used to stir public anger, and Muslim men’s lives are taken coldly. Taking a life has become as casual as throwing mud online. But the wounds from these mob attacks aren’t just physical. They deeply affect the families left behind, especially women. Ayesha and Samreen, both in their thirties, lost their husbands to hate-filled attacks. Women like Shaheen have faced the terror of violent mobs and death. These events leave lasting scars on women’s minds. Social stigma, institutional failures, and financial strain add to their burdens. These factors undoubtedly impact their mental state. This report tries to understand how.

Ayesha Shikalgar’s Story: The Pain That Can’t Be Explained

I never imagined that Hindu-Muslim hatred could reach a small village like Pusesavali. Nurul Hasan was the president of the village’s Ganpati committee. Most of his friends were Hindus. Sometimes, during my pregnancy, I’d crave something sweet at night. Nurul’s friend owned a shop, and he’d open it after hours just for me. That’s how close their friendship was. But the same people he celebrated Ganeshotsav with, the ones he called friends, are now his accused killers, Ayesha says, her voice trembling with anger. She asks some hard questions: “No matter what happened, what did anyone gain by taking an innocent life? These people who chant Shivaji Maharaj’s name—what will they tell him? They didn’t just take a life; they destroyed my entire family!” Her voice rises slightly. “Would Shivaji Maharaj approve of such killers? There’s no reason to oppose anyone’s faith, but shouldn’t devotion bring joy to others? Two minutes of rage changed my life’s struggles and sorrows. At 8 p.m., he was with me, our private life just beginning. By morning, my life, my world, became public—caught in the media’s hands. But there was no space left to express what was in my heart. I couldn’t even grieve Nurul’s death properly. The pain of losing a person, that agony, I can’t put into words. It’s a strain I still feel, and now, whenever I see a saffron flag, my heart skips a beat.” A faint tension lingers on her face, framed by her headscarf.

Nurul Hasan, 31, was one of the educated Muslim youths in Pusesavali. In a village of 1,300 families, less than 10% are Muslim. Most run small businesses—grocery stores, mobile shops, or auto parts stores. Nurul was a civil engineer, taking on construction contracts and renting out his JCB machine. He was the sole breadwinner for his parents, their only child. He and Ayesha were married in November 2022. On September 10, 2023, Hindu nationalist groups from Pusesavali and nearby villages started violence, claiming a Muslim youth’s social media post had hurt religious sentiments. They attacked Muslim homes, shops, and mosques. The youth who posted wasn’t even in the village that day. Police later found his phone was hacked, and no evidence was found against him. But by then, the mob’s attack had changed Ayesha’s life. She was five months pregnant at the time. Just the day before, they’d gone for her sonography. Nurul had wanted a girl and had chosen the name Ashnoor, blending their names together.

After her husband’s death, Ayesha faced what many Indian widows do. She was blamed for Nurul’s death. Her in-laws said she was responsible because Nurul was praying on time while living with her. They claimed his going for namaz led to his death. Their words were a huge blow to her. Ayesha, a lawyer by profession, says, “It wasn’t even four days after his death, and they started saying such things. It broke my heart. I started facing mental distress.” The government and some Muslim groups collected aid for her, but none reached her. “I was in iddat, the four-month seclusion Muslim widows observe. I heard people were helping, but nothing came to me. I thought maybe my in-laws got it. Then rumours spread that Nurul was in debt and the money went to clear it. I had to publicly clarify he had no debts. I didn’t want aid, but I wanted the rumours to stop. My in-laws even said I took the money. That led to family disputes. They turned away from me. When I gave birth, they didn’t even come to see their only granddaughter. When I went to their house, they’d left for my mother-in-law’s village for good. They cut me off completely, as if their son’s death made me a stranger. I was fighting society’s rumours the one hand and my own family on the other. It was so stressful.”

Around that time, the stress took a toll on her father. He had a heart attack, his diabetes worsened, and gangrene forced doctors to amputate part of his leg. “No one was there to help. Even my own family turned away. The women’s WhatsApp group in Pusesavali removed me. They mocked me as a ‘gold digger.’ We didn’t even have money for my father’s treatment. People thought we were rich. Some even said I was living lavishly off my husband’s death money,” Ayesha says with a bitter laugh. There’s no anger on her face, just disappointment. She continues calmly, “When I needed society’s support the most, they abandoned me. They excluded me from family functions. They attacked my character. That defamation broke me. My mental health deteriorated. I started getting dizzy. I lost track of what was happening around me. My daughter needed her mother’s milk, but the stress dried it up within a month. It was such an injustice to her. My weight shot past 100 kilos. I developed thyroid issues, diabetes, and high blood pressure. We didn’t even have money for food. My father has some farmland, but no other income. People kept saying I had so much money—well, I’m still waiting for it. Maybe someone’s words will come true,” she says, laughing at her situation. It’s clear Ayesha has found the strength to smile despite her circumstances.

Even two years later, in August 2025, when we met, the financial struggle persists. Her father was hospitalised again. To manage the back-and-forth between hospital and home, her family moved to her uncle’s place in Miraj. Her father’s sugar levels were high, and his mental health had deteriorated too. Ayesha is trying to cope. She wonders if Nurul were alive, would she have to live this nomadic life. She’s also frustrated that she hasn’t gotten enough information about her husband’s case. She had to use her contacts to even get the charge sheet.

As she tries to move forward, Ayesha faces more challenges. “If I’m happy, people say I’m enjoying life after my husband’s death because I got money. If I’m sad, they say it is only because I didn’t get my in-laws’ property. If I focus on my daughter, they say I’m not interested in my husband’s case. People talk from all sides, and I don’t have the strength to explain myself anymore. I feel so alone. I can’t even work right now. My daughter is 18 months old. She’d be alone too. I worry about her. I don’t want her to grow up hating Hindus. I don’t want her to waste her energy on hate. That’s why I’ve started preparing for the JMFC exam. The environment around Ayesha is always tense and negative. I tried to find a house in Karad or Sangli, leaving my village, Rajachi Kurle. But as soon as people hear I’m from Pusesavali or Nurul Hasan’s widow, they say no. Being Muslim and a single mother doesn’t help. I’ve been looking for a house for four months. How do I describe the pain of rejection? Some say no one rents to Muslims after the Pahalgam attack. But my husband was killed here—how dare anyone say that? These experiences have broken me. People often say if Nurul hadn’t gone to confront those people, he wouldn’t have died. So, the attackers, the violent ones, aren’t at fault, but he is to be blamed for taking to task his so-called friends? It’s such an easy blame game. Nurul was a great friend, a great partner. He helped with my work and took care of me. I lost such a person. That pain will always stay. But let me tell you…”

Ayesha takes a deep breath and says, “I’m tired of being seen as a victim or a gold digger. Pusesavali’s incident and the label of Nurul’s widow have stamped my life. I want to change that image. I may fail as a wife, but I won’t fail as a mother. People keep looking at me through that same lens. When I try to move forward, they tie that image to my feet like a burden. It causes me so much mental pain.”

Samreen Pathan: Holding on Through Loneliness

Samreen and Aamir had been married for three years. They have a two-year-old daughter. Samreen works as an assistant manager at a bank, while Aamir was a relationship officer at a telecom company. Both were from Latur, and both had jobs there. But eight or ten months ago, Samreen got a job at a different bank’s branch in Dharashiv. Aamir, not wanting her career to stall, didn’t care about his own job and moved to Dharashiv with her. Once Samreen settled into her routine there, he returned to Latur for work, taking their daughter along. Samreen wasn’t used to living alone, having grown up in a big family. So, she’d come to Latur every weekend, spend two days with them, and return to work. Samreen says, “I’d wake up early, go to the office, meet clients, and spend weekends together. That was our routine. For years, we heard about the growing Hindu-Muslim tension and hatred in society, but it never touched our lives. Aamir’s closest friends were Hindus. At my office, we all worked together harmoniously. No big fights, no complaints, nothing. Everything was peaceful, simple, friendly. But now, something feels different. This incident shocked us. We were happy in our own world. Why us?” she asks, her voice heavy with pain, before falling silent for a moment. Even meeting her in Dharashiv wasn’t easy—she wasn’t eager to talk. It’s understandable. Reliving those memories, retelling her story, is exhausting. The police’s mishandling of her complaint only adds to her distress. When we met at her bank’s premises, Samreen, barely looking thirty, wore simple clothes and glasses. She buries her grief in work, pulling herself forward for the next day.

Since Aamir’s suicide, sleep has been hard for Samreen. The incident left him deeply traumatized, and his suicide is clear proof of that. Samreen recalls, “That day, I was nearing Latur and called him to pick me up. The bus stops at Maidan Chowk, where I was getting off. He’d reached the chowk on his scooter, crossing the road. A local journalist was driving by. Aamir signalled to him, ‘Wait two minutes, let me cross.’ But that hurt the journalist’s ego.” Samreen starts recounting that day’s conversation. The shouting, the voices, still create a fearful tension in her mind. It was a regular Saturday, a routine return to her hometown to see her family and daughter, to recharge and go back to work. A predictable, peaceful routine. But that evening was different. Samreen continues, “The journalist got out of his car, parked it in the middle of the road, and started beating my husband. He asked, ‘What’s your name?’ Aamir said, ‘Aamir Pathan.’ The journalist sneered, ‘What, you think you’re some big Aamir? You’re a Pakistani, a Kashmiri, unfit to live in this country.’ Then he kept hitting him, yanked his pants, took photos, and recorded videos. ‘I’m a journalist,’ he said. ‘This will be in the papers.’ I was on the phone, hearing it all. I asked who he was talking to. I could hear Aamir’s voice, shouting, ‘What did I do wrong? Why are you hitting me?’” The incident happened on May 4, 2025 and was reported a few days later.

The incident left Aamir under immense stress. He was terrified the journalist would call him a terrorist or worse in the next day’s paper. He wanted to file a police complaint but lacked the courage. He called friends for help, telling them what happened. No one responded positively. They told him not to make a big deal, to let it go, or they’d see about it later. The beating had already scared him, but the fact that a stranger could threaten and humiliate him, and his close friends didn’t care, hurt him deeply. The journalist had yanked his pants so hard it caused physical discomfort. Aamir kept telling Samreen about it. She says, “Until 2 a.m., he was on his phone, searching for information about the journalist. At 6 a.m., he checked the papers, worried something was printed against him, calling him a Pakistani. He was so scared. The stress lasted till afternoon. His scooter was damaged, so he got it fixed. We were supposed to attend a reception that evening. He said, ‘Go ahead, I’ll rest and join you.’ When we got there, his phone wasn’t reachable. My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and I returned home, only to find he’d taken his life.” Samreen, trying to stay strong, has tears in her eyes. She complains the police delayed action. The journalist was influential, connected to politicians, so they wouldn’t take her complaint. The next day, they went to the station at 9 a.m., but the police kept them waiting until 6 p.m., asking for CCTV footage and more. Samreen says, “The police said they’d register a suicide case but wouldn’t mention ‘Pakistani’ or ‘Kashmiri.’ We gave them the car’s number, but they refused to name the journalist in the complaint. We didn’t even know who he was at first. It feels like the police helped him escape by delaying. It affected me deeply. At first, it was unbearable. Now, I feel nothing. Everything’s numb. People come, ask questions, gather information, but no one truly helps. I have no expectations anymore, especially from the police. They suppressed everything. Some even accused us, saying we had political connections and were framing the journalist. The thief calling us liars! We lost our loved one, and we’re the ones filing a complaint?” Her anger peaks as she speaks, her frustration clear in every word. Recalling it chokes her up. She steadies herself and continues, “If I keep thinking about this, how willI run my home? I bury myself in work. Otherwise, I’d have collapsed completely. Evenings make me restless, especially between 8 and 9 p.m. Sundays feel unbearable now. I feel so alone. But I hold on for my daughter.”

Samreen now lives alone with her daughter in Dharashiv. Her mother helps care for the child, but Samreen expects nothing from anyone. “There’s no one to share your pain with. Sometimes, I wish it never happened, like waking from a bad dream to a normal day. Aamir was so good. He’d say, ‘Do what you want, I’m with you,’ and he proved it. Now, there’s only loneliness.”

Ayesha and Samreen, both in their thirties, were busy weaving dreams of family, children, a new life, and stability. They had little sense of the hatred and violence beyond their safe world. Even if such things existed, they felt far away. They lived in a space of harmony, believing no harm could touch them.

What to serve for dinner to men returning from work?

Vishalgad-Gajapur, in Kolhapur’s Shahuwadi taluka, is a cluster gram panchayat. It includes the fort’s village, Gajapur’s Muslimwadi, Vanipeth, Sainath Peth, Baudhwadi, Kembhurnewadi, Bhattali, and small hamlets stretching to Pavan Khindi. The road from Pandhrepani to Gajapur winds through dense forests, with the Kasari dam’s water on one side. The area is breezy year-round but remote, with poor phone connectivity. Naturally, job opportunities are scarce. The main sources of income are tourism and visitors to the local dargah. But violence causes more than just human loss—it devastates livelihoods. The tourism that sustained these remote hamlets has collapsed, and rumours about safety have spread. When the economic balance crumbles, the burden falls on women. Whether a man earns enough or not, feeding the family is a woman’s responsibility, and the stress of figuring out what to cook weighs heavily on them. Shaheen Mujawar explains, “There’s never been tension among locals in Vishalgad’s villages. Even now, communities support each other. But for the last two or three years, the atmosphere has been deliberately poisoned. There’s a court case about encroachments on Vishalgad, yet mobs from outside came and disrupted everything. Worst of all, jobs have vanished. Families have left these hamlets for work elsewhere, facing burdens from rent to household expenses. Children’s schools have been disrupted or changed. Income and expenses don’t align, making it hard for women to run households. People literally don’t have money for salt. If the gas runs out, they wonder who to turn to. Men face work stress, so women can’t tell them about grocery shortages. Every day, they wake up wondering what to cook. By evening, they hope their man comes home, but they dread him asking for food because they don’t know what to offer. Many of us aren’t used to working outside, and some families don’t allow it. If we’re not safe at home, how can we face harassment outside as Muslims?”

A fact-finding report by Salokha Sampark Gat, the Centre for Study of Society and Secularism, and Women’s Struggle for Peace details the violence in Vishalgad and Gajapur on July 14, 2024. It describes the physical, mental, and economic toll, with chilling accounts from Muslimwadi’s women. That day, most men were away for work, leaving elderly people, women, and children behind. The report notes: “Women in Muslimwadi faced terror all day. A mob armed with knives and hammers stormed in. As they pounded on doors, women barricaded them with sofas, chairs, and beds to keep them out. To stop children from crying, women stuffed cloth in their mouths to keep them quiet. Attackers broke doors, entered homes, and smashed everything—TVs, fridges, mixers, beds, chairs, mattresses. They left nothing intact. Scooters and vehicles were smashed with stones and hammers. Six scooters outside one house were piled up and burned. Fifteen to twenty men invaded each home, breaking windows, tearing roofs, burning clothes. Kitchen supplies—grain, flour, food—were thrown out. The entire settlement was destroyed. Women watched their life’s work turn to dust in moments. Attackers asked women their names, insulting those with Muslim names. One woman gave a Hindu name, but when they demanded her Aadhaar card and she didn’t have it, she locked herself inside. They broke the door, entered, and beat her. Reshma Prabhulkar, who runs a small bangle and clothing shop next to her house, didn’t open her door. The mob broke into her shop, detonated her cooking gas cylinder, and set her home’s contents ablaze.” Even without deaths, such incidents push women into a shell, layering pressure on them—worrying about their men’s safety, then their own. Women who’ve fought for freedom retreat, prioritizing others over themselves. This can lead to clinging to religious norms or societal pressures, starting a cycle of isolation, suppression, and disconnection from society, harming their mental health.

Rehana Mursal from Shantisathi Mahila Sangharsh Manch (Women’s Struggle for Peace) shared a haunting observation: “Visiting homes in Gajapur and Vishalgad, I saw children clutching their mothers’ saree ends and stuffing them in their mouths. When I asked why, the women said that during the attack, as men were beaten outside, children hiding with their mothers understood what was happening. Terrified and trembling, they wanted to scream. To keep their hiding spots secret, mothers stuffed saree or scarf ends in their children’s mouths to silence them. The kids struggled to breathe, but the cloth stayed until the chaos subsided. Now, scared children do this themselves when strangers come, stuffing their mothers’ sarees in their mouths. What kind of present and future are we giving these kids? How do we erase this trauma?”

Talking to Ayesha, Samreen, and the women of Vishalgad-Gajapur, one thing stood out: Islamophobia and patriarchy leave Muslim women isolated. Ayesha and Samreen both lost their in-laws’ support—treated as irrelevant once their husbands died. Their Muslim identity made filing complaints difficult, and they were kept away from their cases. They’ve had to take on family responsibilities, including jobs, while raising children alone. Financial strain suffocates them. Women wearing hijabs or burqas face barriers in education and jobs. Such incidents create fear, stopping bold girls from stepping out. Muslim vendors face boycotts, crippling their businesses. Finding homes is tough, with Muslims facing discrimination. Workers endure unequal treatment. Amid these social injustices, mental health is side-lined. The fear, loneliness, and constant vigilance Muslim women face are deep scars of communalism, yet these emotional wounds are rarely discussed.

From Social Othering to Social Suffering

These incidents may seem rare, sparking debates about why discuss them. But in recent years, Muslims, especially men, have been systematically targeted. Hate speeches, calls to displace Muslims, cow vigilantism, and mob killings are rising, as shown in the 2024 India Hate Lab and Hate Crime Report: Mapping First Year of Modi’s Third Government. These reports highlight how anti-Muslim hatred is growing organised, political, and normalised. India Hate Lab recorded 1,165 hate speech incidents in 2024, with 1,050 targeting Muslims, occurring in political rallies, religious processions, and election campaigns. Of these, 266 involved BJP leaders. Terms like “love jihad,” “land jihad,” and “vote jihad” were joined by new ones like “mazar jihad,” “UPSC jihad,” “fertilizer jihad,” and “rail jihad,” spreading false narratives to fuel hatred. Uttar Pradesh saw the most incidents (242, up 132% from last year), followed by Maharashtra with 210 hate speech cases, a 78% rise from 118 in 2023. Of Maharashtra’s cases, 195 targeted Muslims, 14 targeted both Muslims and Christians, and one was anti-Christian. May’s Lok Sabha elections and November’s assembly elections saw peaks, with 32 incidents in May alone. Political leaders and Hindu nationalist groups used these periods to inflame religious sentiments. From August to November, 90 incidents were recorded.

The Hate Crime Report notes 947 hate crimes from June 2024 to June 2025, including 602 violent incidents. In 173 mob attacks, 25 Muslim men died. Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra were particularly sensitive. Maharashtra saw 101 hate speeches, with 178 by BJP-linked leaders, including the Prime Minister, Chief Ministers, MPs, and others. Of 947 hate crimes, only 81 (13%) led to FIRs, and no political leaders faced action. These are just recorded cases—unreported ones are unknown. The data shows hate is being normalized, a worrying trend.

Mental health discussions for families affected by riots, violence, and hate speech often focus on post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), noting symptoms like depression, insomnia, or lack of focus. But the broader societal impact is ignored. The “social othering” from religious divides and its mental toll are overlooked. Mental health can’t be separated from daily life’s small and big struggles. Bebaak Collective’s report, Social Suffering in a World without Support: Report on Mental Health of Indian Muslims, highlights this. Researcher and founder Hasina Khan says, “Studying religious and social hatred, we realized Indian Muslims’ mental health reflects political oppression and societal hate. Talking to victims of hate crimes and riots, we saw that discussing emotions, habits, and relationships reveals how communalism changes Muslim lives. Mental health studies can’t stop at PTSD or depression. Violence affects daily life, so we must understand its impact on future aspirations, financial security, and health. Muslim mental health isn’t just about communalism—it underscores everyday exclusion. Some faced physical effects: one family member had a heart attack, another victim’s mother lost her sanity. Women’s mobility is restricted, they grow isolated, neighbors drift away, friends from their own and other communities shrink back. Youth face future anxiety, leading to depression. Activists feel fear and despair, grappling with helplessness and stress. Constant vigilance in public spaces harms mental health, yet it’s rarely discussed.” Mental health expert Shamima Asgar adds, “Clinical mental health approaches are individual-focused, addressing personal pain and trauma but not the root causes of violence. Instead, the focus is on coping with its effects, implying the violence will persist, and you must adapt.” In short, addressing the problem requires tackling its roots, viewing Muslim mental health as social suffering.

Hasina’s point is key: religiously motivated violence and inflammatory speeches are politically driven, a tool of oppression. When such attacks come from institutions, who takes responsibility? The institutions themselves should, as Muslims are citizens under their care. Preventing injustices, mob deaths, and attacks is their duty, as is supporting victims afterward. Otherwise, how will affected families and women stand again? Trauma needs support. Women whose lives are upended by religious hatred need space to express their pain freely and a chance to move forward. Samreen sees her busy life as healing. Mental health taboos often stop women from seeking counselling or therapy, so it should be offered at a government level. Ayesha was encouraged by Satara’s rural police superintendent to try therapy. She says, “I had no idea about counselling or therapy. I thought I was strong. The way I handled things, spoke, and acted made me think I was fine. But therapy showed me I was bottling up my pain. I didn’t even know how much I’d suppressed. I had headaches, irritability, and despair. Sometimes, I felt nothing, like I was numb. The world talked about my tragedy, but I seemed strong on the outside. Therapy taught me I hadn’t moved past the shock. It helped me accept it slowly. Five or six months later, I cried openly for the first time. My heart felt lighter. I realized I needed to think about what’s next, how to live. The stress is temporary. What’s permanent? My daughter. She’s, my anchor.” Ayesha got help, but not from the government.

Improving mental health requires concrete steps at social, political, and legal levels. Rehana Mursal and Hasina Khan suggest permanent peace committees and administrative systems in every district to prevent violence and promote unity. Civil groups should monitor justice systems, support victims, and pressure authorities to act against perpetrators. The National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) and Minority Commission (NCM) should investigate alongside police to ensure justice. State governments should compensate victims of hate crimes. Local groups, women’s collectives, and organizations should offer emotional support and safe spaces. Counselling and trauma care should be available in Muslim-majority areas. Health workers need training to handle hate crime victims sensitively. Mental health experts should study the impact of class, caste, and religion on health, and mental health laws must be actively enforced.

Reflecting on Hasina’s words, we can’t ignore changes in emotions, behaviour, and relationships. How do we fix or undo them? When Samreen’s daughter asks when her father will return, what can she say? “We had our routine,” she said, hinting at the joy it brought. Yet, when she called her mother-in-law to stay with her, their avoidance hurt her. How do you compensate for the time needed to process this? Still, Samreen says, “I’ve accepted he’s not coming back. I live for my daughter.” Ayesha echoed this: “Even after marriage, I wasn’t very mature. I was a silly, carefree girl, always laughing, lost in dreams. Nurul let me be that way. Then this mountain of tragedy hit. It made me serious, wiped out my carefree nature. I struggled to accept that change, but now I have. My daughter matters most.” Should we call it good or bad that the daughters these mothers strive for are shielded from reality? Just then, Ashnoor grabbed Ayesha’s phone, pointing at her father’s photo, calling him “Abbu.” She recognizes him, but what will she think when she learns why he’s gone? Unknowingly, the system has made her part of this social suffering. What should she and other children like her do with this pain? In a society where religion overshadows humanity, it feels like we’re all casting shadows of hate. If we can, let’s pull our hands back.

Related:

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Muslims, victims of targeted violence in Pusesavali, Satara: Fact-finding report

Pay compensation to Nurul Hasan Shikalgar’s family, order independent judicial inquiry: Satara Citizens to Maharashtra Govt

Why no action against hate monger, BJP leader, Vikram Pawaskar asks Bombay HC

Activists highlight decimated situation of Muslim houses, shops in Gajapur, Kolhapur post violence, deem authorities to be guilty of negligence

Violence, vandalism and arson in Kolhapur, Muslim houses and mosque targeted by mob that had gathered on the call of former RS MP Sambhaji Raje Chhatrapati

CJP flags 8 incidents of hate crime including lynchings to National Commission for Minorities

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