Protest in 2025 was neither exceptional nor episodic. It formed part of the routine functioning of a democratic society in which citizens repeatedly turned to collective action when institutional mechanisms proved inadequate or unresponsive. From workers and farmers to students, environmental defenders, and religious minorities, different groups asserted their claims through peaceful assemblies, strikes, marches, sit-ins, and, at times, confrontational resistance.

Farmers returned to the streets years after the repeal of the farm laws because core demands remained unaddressed. Workers mobilised because new labour regimes threatened job security and social protection. Students protested because universities were being reshaped without consultation, autonomy, or academic rationale. Indigenous communities resisted development projects that endangered land, forests, rivers, and cultural survival. Women-led care workers demanded recognition of labour that the state depends upon but refuses to formalise. LGBTQIA+ communities marched not for symbolic inclusion, but for tangible civil rights denied through legislative inaction.

Equally significant was the geographic spread of these protests. They were not confined to metropolitan centres or politically oppositional states. Demonstrations occurred in border regions, hill states, conflict zones, university towns, industrial belts, forest villages, and district headquarters. This dispersion reflected a deeper reality: that the pressures producing dissent were systemic rather than sectoral.

The State’s response formed a critical backdrop to these mobilisations. Increasingly, protest was governed through prohibitory orders, preventive detentions, mass registration of FIRs, denial of permissions, barricading of public spaces, internet restrictions, and aggressive policing. Laws originally framed as exceptional—such as national security statutes or public safety legislation—were routinely invoked against demonstrators, students, and organisers. The language of governance shifted decisively from negotiation to control.

This year-ender documents these protests chronologically, treating each mobilisation as a distinct political event rooted in its own context. It does not seek to romanticise dissent or frame protest as crisis, but to record how public action functioned as a means of negotiation, contestation, and constitutional engagement throughout the year.

January 2025: Fragmented beginnings, shared democratic anxiety

1. Universities push back against the draft UGC regulations, 2025

January opened with Indian universities acting as early warning systems for democratic erosion. Students and faculty across campuses mobilised against the Draft UGC Regulations, 2025, which proposed fundamental changes to the governance of higher education. The regulations sought to centralise power in the hands of the Union government by altering Vice-Chancellor appointment processes, diluting academic qualifications, and legitimising the induction of non-academic ‘industry experts’ into university leadership.

Left-leaning Students’ Federation of India (SFI) organised marches, classroom boycotts, public readings of the draft regulations, and discussions highlighting how these changes threatened institutional autonomy. Faculty associations warned that the proposals undermined peer review, disciplinary expertise, and the principle of universities as self-governing communities. The protests framed higher education as a constitutional public good linked to equality and freedom of thought, rather than as a market-driven enterprise.

2. Trade Unions place economic justice at the centre of the budget debate

Parallel to campus mobilisations, organised labour intervened in the Union Budget process. Ten Central Trade Unions (CTUs) submitted a joint memorandum to the Union Finance Minister ahead of the 2025–26 Budget. The memorandum foregrounded unemployment, inflation, contractualisation of labour, and the erosion of social security.

Workers demanded the filling of vacant public sector posts, expansion of MGNREGA to 200 days with enhanced wages, introduction of an urban employment guarantee, restoration of the Old Pension Scheme, and a halt to privatisation and disinvestment. The memorandum underscored that fiscal policy choices have direct constitutional implications for the right to livelihood and social justice.

3. Farmers reclaim Republic Day as a site of constitutional assertion

On January 26, farmers once again occupied public space through tractor rallies organised by the Samyukta Kisan Morcha across northern and central India. The rallies reiterated unresolved demands following the repeal of the farm laws, including a legal guarantee of Minimum Support Price, loan waivers, compensation for families of deceased protesters, and withdrawal of criminal cases against farmer leaders.

By mobilising on Republic Day, farmers deliberately linked their demands to constitutional promises of dignity, equality, and economic justice. The presence of tractors in urban centres challenged narratives of growth that marginalise agrarian distress.

February 2025: Labour, pensions, and the crisis of secure employment

1. Nationwide government employees’ protests against the new pension scheme

Throughout February, government employees across states organised coordinated demonstrations demanding the restoration of the Old Pension Scheme (OPS). Rallies, organised by 10 central trade unions and independent sectoral federations and associations, were held in state capitals, district headquarters, and outside secretariats, with participation from teachers, clerical staff, engineers, health workers, and employees of public sector undertakings. Protesters argued that the New Pension Scheme (NPS), which links retirement benefits to market performance, fundamentally undermines the principle of social security.

Many participants highlighted that deductions from salaries over decades no longer translated into guaranteed post-retirement income. Retired employees spoke publicly about sharp reductions in expected pensions, while younger workers expressed anxiety about their future in the absence of defined benefits. The protests framed pensions not as a fiscal burden, but as deferred wages and a constitutional obligation of the welfare state.

State governments responded unevenly. While some engaged in negotiations, others invoked prohibitory orders and restricted assemblies. The persistence of these protests throughout the month underscored the depth of discontent among salaried public servants.

2. Trade Union mobilisation against the four Labour Codes

February also saw intensified mobilisation against the four Labour Codes passed earlier but yet to be fully implemented. Central trade unions organised gate meetings, factory-level demonstrations, and citywide rallies in industrial belts and banking centres. Workers argued that the Codes diluted protections relating to job security, union recognition, collective bargaining, and workplace safety.

Union leaders warned that provisions allowing longer working hours, simplified retrenchment processes, and reduced inspection mechanisms would institutionalise precarity. The protests connected labour law reform to broader economic trends—privatisation, contractualisation, and informalisation—arguing that the Codes formalised employer dominance.

Police presence was heavy in several cities, and union leaders were briefly detained during demonstrations. Despite this, protests continued across the month, signalling organised labour’s refusal to accept the Codes without substantive revision.

3. Education sector protests in Kerala against draft UGC Regulations

In Kerala, February witnessed sustained protests by teachers and academics against the Draft UGC Regulations. Under the banner of the All India Save Education Committee, faculty members organised marches, seminars, and symbolic actions including the public burning of draft copies. These protests explained in detail how the regulations threatened academic autonomy by centralising appointments and diluting qualification norms.

Speakers at the protest warned that universities would be transformed into administratively controlled entities, undermining peer review and disciplinary expertise. The protests framed education as a constitutional instrument of social justice rather than a market-driven service. The sustained nature of the protests reflected deep concern within the academic community.

4. Samsung workers continue sit-in against union suppression in Tamil Nadu 

Workers at Samsung India Electronics Limited’s Kancheepuram facility continued a sit-in protest that entered its fifteenth day on February 19, following the suspension of three office-bearers of the Samsung India Workers Union (SIWU). The union alleged that the suspensions were retaliatory and aimed at weakening collective bargaining.

The protest centred on two demands: reinstatement of the suspended union leaders and an end to the company’s reliance on contract labour. Workers accused the management of acting without due process, including suspending leaders without issuing show-cause notices.

Family members of workers joined the protest, underscoring the broader social impact of the labour dispute. The union announced plans to escalate the agitation if negotiations failed, including serving a strike notice.

The standoff highlighted ongoing tensions in India’s manufacturing sector over unionisation, labour rights, and state labour department intervention.

March 2025: Gendered labour and environmental resistance

1. Anganwadi and ASHA workers’ indefinite secretariat protest in Kerala

March marked one of the most sustained women-led protests of the year. Thousands of Anganwadi and ASHA workers gathered outside the Kerala Secretariat, launching an indefinite sit-in. These workers—central to nutrition delivery, maternal health, vaccination, and disease surveillance—demanded minimum wages of ₹21,000, recognition as government employees, pension benefits, and retirement security.

Protesters detailed long working hours, expanding responsibilities, and stagnant honorariums that failed to reflect their workload. Many women spoke of debt, health issues, and the absence of social protection despite decades of service. The protest highlighted how the welfare state relies on feminised labour while refusing formal recognition.

Negotiations with the government remained inconclusive, and police barricading restricted movement around protest sites. The sit-in continued through the month, becoming a focal point of labour resistance.

2. University of Hyderabad students defend the Kancha Gachibowli Forest

Students at the University of Hyderabad organised sustained protests against the proposed auction of the Kancha Gachibowli forest for commercial development. Marches, sit-ins, poster campaigns, and night-long vigils framed the forest as an ecological commons vital to the city’s environmental health.

Protesters demanded transparency, environmental impact assessments, and public consultation. They warned that urban expansion without ecological safeguards would exacerbate climate vulnerability. The protests linked environmental protection to democratic planning and the right to the city.

April 2025: Preventive Laws and the Criminalisation of Dissent

1. Statewide Mobilisation Against the Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill

April saw widespread protests across Maharashtra against the proposed Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill. Civil liberties organisations, lawyers’ collectives, farmers’ unions, student groups, and political parties organised district-level marches and public meetings. Protesters warned that the Bill’s vague definitions would enable preventive detention of activists without adequate judicial oversight.

Legal experts explained provisions clause by clause at protest sites, transforming demonstrations into spaces of constitutional education. The protests stressed that normalising preventive laws erodes the presumption of innocence and chills democratic participation.

Despite heavy police presence and restrictions on assemblies, protests continued throughout the month, forcing public debate on the Bill’s implications.

May 2025: Indigenous Land, Development, and Militarisation

1. Protests against the Siang upper multipurpose project in Arunachal Pradesh

Indigenous communities in Arunachal Pradesh organised continuous protests against the proposed 11,000 MW Siang Upper Multipurpose Project. Under the Siang Indigenous Farmers’ Forum, villagers held sit-ins, road blockades, and village assemblies opposing displacement and ecological destruction.

Resistance intensified following the deployment of armed forces to facilitate survey work. Protesters described the move as intimidation, particularly in the absence of free, prior, and informed consent under the Forest Rights Act. Women led many of the protests, asserting custodianship over land, rivers, and cultural heritage.

The movement framed development as a political choice rather than a neutral necessity, demanding community consent as a binding requirement.

2. Tamil Nadu sugarcane farmers demand higher FRP and revival of SAP

Sugarcane farmers in Tamil Nadu held protests in Chennai demanding a Fair and Remunerative Price (FRP) of ₹5,500 per tonne and the reinstatement of the State Advisory Price (SAP) by scrapping the revenue sharing formula introduced in 2018. The agitation was led by the Tamil Nadu Sugarcane Farmers Association (TNSFA), affiliated to the All India Kisan Sabha.

Farmers argued that the Union government’s announced FRP of ₹3,550 per tonne for the 2025 season was insufficient to cover rising input costs. They reiterated demands for implementation of the M.S. Swaminathan Commission’s recommendation of MSP at C2+50, warning that current pricing policies were accelerating the decline of sugarcane cultivation in the state.

The protest also highlighted long-pending dues of ₹1,217 crore owed by private sugar mills for procurements between 2013 and 2017. Farmers accused mills of delaying payments despite legal obligations under the Sugar Control Order, 1966, and demanded immediate disbursal of arrears.

Additionally, farmers called for the reopening of closed cooperative sugar mills, citing mismanagement and policy failures. They argued that reviving these mills would not only ensure fair procurement prices but also provide rural employment and stabilise the sugar economy in Tamil Nadu.

June 2025: Rights, Recognition, and the Limits of Constitutional Morality

1. Pride marches as claims to substantive citizenship

June 2025 marked a significant shift in the character of Pride marches across India. Held in Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Kolkata, Chennai, Hyderabad, and several smaller cities, Pride this year unfolded in the immediate aftermath of the Supreme Court’s refusal to recognise same-sex marriage, with the Court deferring responsibility to Parliament. This context fundamentally shaped the tone of the marches.

Participants framed Pride not as a celebration alone, but as a protest against legislative inertia. Placards, speeches, and manifestos articulated concrete demands: civil unions, inheritance and succession rights, joint adoption, medical decision-making authority, spousal benefits, and protection from discrimination in housing and employment. Protesters repeatedly emphasised that the absence of legal recognition translated into material precarity—particularly for queer persons estranged from natal families or excluded from informal social safety nets.

The marches also reflected generational differences within the movement. Older activists spoke of decades lost to criminalisation under Section 377 and warned against courts retreating from their role as protectors of minority rights. Younger participants highlighted intersections with caste, class, disability, and religion, arguing that queer exclusion compounds existing vulnerabilities.

Police presence was visible but restrained in most cities, though organisers reported heightened surveillance and bureaucratic hurdles in securing permissions. The marches collectively underscored a central contradiction: constitutional morality invoked in judgments remains hollow without legislative and administrative follow-through.

2. Mass mobilisation at Azad Maidan against Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill 

Thousands gathered at Mumbai’s Azad Maidan on June 30 to protest the proposed Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024, which critics described as a sweeping law aimed at curbing dissent. The protest brought together people’s movements, Left parties, and opposition formations under the Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA), marking one of the largest coordinated mobilisations against the Bill.

The demonstration was organised primarily by the CPI(M) and CPI, with participation from trade unions, student organisations, farmers’ groups, and civil liberties collectives. Leaders from the Shiv Sena (UBT), Congress, and NCP (Sharad Pawar faction) attended, signalling a broad political consensus against the proposed legislation.

Addressing the gathering, CPI(M) state secretary Ajit Nawale characterised the protest as a decisive stand against what organisers viewed as an authoritarian expansion of state power. Protesters travelled from across Maharashtra, responding to calls to oppose provisions that allegedly allow for preventive action against vaguely defined threats to public order.

With the Bill expected to be tabled in the monsoon session of the Assembly, the mobilisation underscored growing concerns about legal frameworks that, according to critics, could be used to target activists, political opponents, and marginalised communities under the guise of public security.

July 2025: Mass Mobilisation and the Convergence of Long-Standing Struggles

1. Adivasi resistance to Forest Department overreach in Chhattisgarh

In July, Adivasi communities across Chhattisgarh intensified protests against forest department actions that curtailed Community Forest Resource (CFR) rights recognised under the Forest Rights Act (FRA), 2006. Large rallies were held in Bastar, Surguja, Dantewada, and Kanker districts, drawing participation from village councils and grassroots organisations.

Protesters detailed how administrative circulars and evictions undermined Gram Sabha authority. Marches culminated in district headquarters, where memoranda were submitted demanding withdrawal of orders that violated statutory rights. The protests were marked by repeated assertions of the constitutional principle that development and conservation cannot proceed by dispossessing Indigenous communities.

Police monitored demonstrations closely, and in some areas, prohibitory orders were imposed. Despite this, mobilisation continued throughout the month, reflecting deep-rooted resistance to bureaucratic encroachment.

2. Nationwide Bharat Bandh of July 9

On July 9, a nationwide Bharat Bandh called jointly by Central Trade Unions (CTUs) and the Samyukta Kisan Morcha brought together workers and farmers in one of the largest coordinated actions of the year. Banking services, transport networks, coal mining operations, steel plants, and manufacturing units were disrupted across multiple states.

The bandh opposed the implementation of the four Labour Codes, privatisation of public sector undertakings, rising unemployment, and inflation. Protesters emphasised that economic policy was being formulated without democratic consultation, disproportionately burdening workers and small producers.

Heavy police deployment, detentions of union leaders, and prohibitory orders were reported in several cities. Nevertheless, participation remained significant, underscoring the scale of economic discontent.

3. Protests by terminated school staff in West Bengal

July also saw repeated marches by thousands of teaching and non-teaching staff in West Bengal who lost employment following judicial scrutiny of recruitment irregularities. Protesters described themselves as “untainted” and demanded differentiated accountability rather than blanket termination.

Demonstrations in Kolkata included long marches, sit-ins, and symbolic actions highlighting the human cost of administrative failure. Families spoke of financial distress, interrupted education of children, and social stigma. The protests raised difficult questions about governance failures and the limits of punitive institutional responses.

4. Bipartisan protests over arrest of Two Keralite nuns in Chhattisgarh 

Protests intensified in Kerala and New Delhi following the arrest of two Catholic nuns—Sister Vandana Francis and Sister Preeta Mary—at Durg railway station in Chhattisgarh on July 25, on charges of kidnapping, human trafficking, and forced conversion. The arrests were made following a complaint by a Bajrang Dal member, triggering widespread outrage among religious groups, civil society, and political leaders across party lines.

The protests assumed a rare bipartisan character, with Members of Parliament from both the United Democratic Front (UDF) and the Left Democratic Front (LDF) publicly denouncing the arrests outside Parliament. Leaders alleged that the charges were fabricated and reflected a broader pattern of targeting minorities, while also criticising the role played by right-wing groups in precipitating police action.

As protests gathered momentum, Kerala Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan wrote to Prime Minister Narendra Modi demanding justice for what he described as the “unfair incarceration” of the nuns. Senior leaders from Left parties, including Brinda Karat and Annie Raja, travelled to Chhattisgarh to engage with local authorities and affected families. Opposition leaders in Kerala linked the arrests to a wider climate of hostility toward Christians in BJP-ruled states.

The Union Minister of State for Minority Affairs stated that the matter was sub judice, while noting efforts by BJP leaders to engage with church authorities. Despite these assurances, protests continued, reflecting broader anxieties over religious freedom, misuse of criminal law, and the growing role of non-state actors in triggering arrests related to alleged conversions.

August 2025: Electoral Integrity, Labour Precarity, and Agrarian Anxiety

1. Protests over electoral roll revisions and voter deletions

August 2025 saw sustained and coordinated protests across Delhi, Maharashtra, Bihar, Karnataka, Telangana, and West Bengal over alleged irregularities in electoral roll revisions. Opposition parties, civil society groups, student organisations, and independent election watchdogs mobilised demonstrations outside offices of the Election Commission of India (ECI) and district election authorities.

The immediate trigger for these protests was the publication of revised electoral rolls in several constituencies that showed large-scale deletions of voters, particularly from urban poor settlements, minority-dominated neighbourhoods, migrant worker colonies, and informal housing clusters. Protesters argued that many deletions were carried out without due notice, verification, or accessible grievance redress mechanisms.

Demonstrations included marches, sit-ins, submission of memoranda, and symbolic actions such as mock voter registration drives to highlight procedural opacity. Legal activists addressed gatherings, explaining how disenfranchisement—whether intentional or through administrative negligence—directly undermines the basic structure of electoral democracy.

Police responses varied by region. In Delhi and Mumbai, heavy barricading and preventive detentions were reported, while in smaller towns protests were dispersed citing prohibitory orders. The protests foregrounded electoral integrity as a constitutional concern rather than a partisan issue.

2. Prolonged agitations by sanitation and municipal workers

Across several cities in August, sanitation workers intensified protests against privatisation, contractualisation, and delayed wages. In Chennai, Hyderabad, Gurugram, and parts of Uttar Pradesh, municipal workers staged sit-ins outside civic offices, undertook hunger strikes, and halted sanitation services for limited periods.

Workers detailed chronic issues: employment through contractors despite performing perennial civic functions, absence of social security benefits, hazardous working conditions, and lack of compensation for occupational injuries. Many protesters belonged to marginalised caste communities, underlining the intersection of caste and labour precarity.

Municipal authorities responded with threats of termination, police complaints, and selective negotiations. Arrests of protest leaders and forcible dispersal of sit-ins were reported in some cities. The protests highlighted the contradiction between celebrating cleanliness initiatives and eroding the rights of those who perform essential sanitation labour.

3. Farmers’ mobilisation against trade policy and import liberalisation

A joint platform of the Samyukt Kisan Morcha (SKM) and ten central trade unions across Punjab, Haryana, Rajasthan, and parts of Maharashtra organised rallies in August opposing trade agreements and import policies perceived to expose Indian agriculture to volatile global markets. Tractor rallies, village-level meetings, and district marches were held to articulate concerns over declining crop prices and rising input costs.

Farmers warned that tariff reductions and import liberalisation disproportionately harm small and marginal cultivators while benefiting large agribusiness interests. Protest speeches frequently referenced the unresolved demands from earlier farmers’ movements, including legal guarantees for Minimum Support Price (MSP).

Police presence remained significant, particularly near state borders, reflecting continued state sensitivity to agrarian mobilisation.

4. Farmers push back against scrapping of import duty on Raw Cotton 

The All India Kisan Sabha (AIKS) strongly condemned the Union government’s decision to scrap the 11% import duty on raw cotton between August 19 and September 30, 2025, a move notified by the Central Board of Indirect Taxes and Customs (CBIC). According to the CPI(M)-affiliated farmers’ organisation, the temporary removal of the duty would lower the price of imported cotton, thereby exerting downward pressure on domestic cotton prices at a crucial point in the agricultural cycle.

AIKS highlighted that the timing of the decision was particularly damaging, as cotton farmers across major producing regions had already completed sowing and incurred substantial input costs in anticipation of remunerative prices. With harvesting approaching, any decline in prices would directly impact farm incomes. Cotton-growing regions, the organisation noted, are already marked by chronic agrarian distress, indebtedness, and a history of farmer suicides, conditions that could be further aggravated by this policy shift.

The organisation also drew attention to what it described as a contradiction between the decision and the Prime Minister’s Independence Day speech, in which assurances were made about safeguarding farmers’ interests. AIKS argued that India’s inability to protect its textile sector amid tariff measures imposed by the United States had resulted in domestic farmers bearing the burden of global trade pressures, despite being the weakest actors in the supply chain.

Citing data from the Commission for Agricultural Costs and Prices (CACP), AIKS pointed out that cotton farmers were already receiving minimum support prices far below the C2+50 formula recommended by the Swaminathan Commission. The organisation further underscored the stark disparity between state support to cotton farmers in India and the United States, warning that continued concessions under external pressure could extend similar policy measures to other crops. AIKS called for a united nationwide agitation to compel the government to reverse the decision.

September 2025: Incarceration, representation, and regional discontent

1. Families of political prisoners protest prolonged undertrial detention

In September, families of activists and students incarcerated under stringent national security and anti-terror laws organised prolonged sit-ins and demonstrations at Jantar Mantar and in several state capitals. Many detainees had spent years in custody without commencement or completion of trial.

The protests were marked by testimonies from parents, spouses, and siblings who described the financial strain, psychological trauma, and social isolation caused by prolonged incarceration. Lawyers addressing the gatherings highlighted systemic issues: repeated denial of bail, delayed filing of chargesheets, and the normalisation of long-term undertrial detention.

Placards and speeches reframed the issue as one of constitutional rights rather than individual guilt or innocence. Police permitted the protests but maintained heavy surveillance, occasionally restricting movement citing security concerns.

2. Protests against media narratives and communalisation in Kashmir

In Srinagar and other parts of the Kashmir Valley, residents organised protests against national television channels accused of communalising incidents of violence and erasing local contexts. “Godi media hai hai!”- this is what a crowd of locals chanted today as they gathered around ABP News anchor Chitra Tripathi in Srinagar’s Lal Chowk during a protest to condemn the Pahalgam attack. Demonstrators gathered near press clubs and public squares, holding placards demanding ethical journalism and accountability.

These protests took place under intense surveillance, with movement restrictions imposed intermittently. Participants argued that misrepresentation in national media contributes to stigma, collective punishment, and further securitisation of civilian life in the region.

3. Intensification of the Ladakh movement for statehood and safeguards

September marked an escalation in the Ladakh movement demanding statehood and constitutional protections under the Sixth Schedule. Youth-led marches, hunger strikes, and shutdowns were organised across Leh and Kargil districts.

Protesters argued that prolonged central administration without elected representation had led to policy decisions taken without local consent, particularly regarding land, environment, and employment. Heavy security deployment, clashes, and reports of casualties deepened regional alienation and drew national attention to unresolved autonomy questions.

October 2025: Universities, autonomy, and administrative centralisation

1. Panjab University students’ shutdown over democratic deficit

In October, students at Panjab University enforced a complete shutdown of academic activities protesting delays in Senate elections and increasing centralisation of decision-making. Sit-ins, teach-ins, and marches were organised within and outside the campus.

Students argued that prolonged administrative control without elected bodies undermined institutional autonomy and student representation. Faculty members expressed solidarity, framing the issue as symptomatic of broader governance trends affecting public universities.

Police presence remained restrained, but university authorities initiated disciplinary proceedings against protest leaders. Similar, smaller protests were reported in other central universities, indicating a wider crisis of institutional democracy.

2. Dalit settlement demolished in Gurugram 

Residents of Premnagar Basti in Gurugram protested after large-scale demolitions razed most of the 45-year-old Dalit settlement. Families alleged forced evictions carried out despite legal protections and promises of rehabilitation.

The demolitions followed long-standing litigation initiated by local commercial interests. Protesters argued that the action violated constitutional protections and land acquisition laws.

Police action against protesting residents drew sharp criticism, reigniting debates over urban evictions and housing rights.

November 2025: Public health crisis, environmental breakdown, and faith under threat

1. Mass protests against lethal air pollution in North India

November 2025 saw sustained public protests across Delhi and the National Capital Region as air quality deteriorated to hazardous levels, with Air Quality Index readings remaining in the ‘severe’ category for extended periods. Residents, environmental groups, parents’ associations, and medical professionals mobilised protests demanding urgent state intervention to address the public health emergency.

Demonstrations were held outside government offices, pollution control bodies, and public squares. Protesters highlighted the failure of short-term emergency measures and criticised policy inertia despite recurring annual crises. Doctors and health experts participating in protests warned of irreversible harm to children, the elderly, and those with pre-existing respiratory conditions.

Placards and public statements framed air pollution not as an environmental issue alone but as a violation of the right to life and health. Protesters demanded long-term structural solutions, including regulation of industrial emissions, vehicular pollution control, agricultural stubble management through state-supported alternatives, and accountability of enforcement agencies. Police presence remained visible but protests were largely peaceful, reflecting broad public consensus on the gravity of the crisis.

2. Flash protest at Lalbagh against Hebbal–Silk board tunnel project

On November 15, student and environmental collectives held a flash protest inside Bengaluru’s Lalbagh Botanical Gardens opposing the proposed 17-km twin tunnel road project between Silk Board and Hebbal. The protest was led by the All India Students Association (AISA) and Fridays For Future–Karnataka, who described the project as an expensive and environmentally hazardous intervention being pushed forward without adequate scrutiny or public consultation.

Protesters alleged that the Karnataka government was advancing the multi-crore tunnel project despite expert warnings and unresolved gaps in the Detailed Project Report (DPR). They highlighted that the estimated cost of the project—between ₹17,000 and ₹20,000 crore—would make it one of the most expensive transport infrastructure initiatives in the state. Activists questioned the prioritisation of such expenditure at a time when metro fares were being increased on the grounds of funding shortages, arguing that the tunnel would primarily benefit a limited section of private vehicle users.

A central concern raised during the protest was the absence of a mandatory Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA). According to the organisers, no comprehensive geological, hydrological, or biodiversity studies had been conducted, despite the tunnel passing beneath ecologically sensitive zones. Environmental groups warned that large-scale underground drilling could destabilise soil layers, disrupt groundwater flow, and worsen Bengaluru’s already severe flooding and drainage problems.

The protest also drew political attention, with Leader of the Opposition in the Karnataka Legislative Assembly, R. Ashok, accusing the Congress-led state government of damaging the environment in the name of development. Speaking at a separate event near Sankey Lake, he alleged that the project was proceeding without approvals from key departments, including the Environment, Archaeology, and Forest Departments. Together, the protests and political interventions highlighted growing public concern over transparency, environmental governance, and urban planning priorities in Bengaluru.

3. Workers’ and farmers’ protests mark five years of the 2020 Farmers’ Protest

On November 26, hundreds of thousands of workers and farmers across India participated in coordinated protests to mark the fifth anniversary of the 2020 farmers’ agitation. Rallies and demonstrations were reported in over 500 districts following a joint call by the Samyukta Kisan Morcha (SKM) and Central Trade Unions (CTUs), making it one of the largest nationwide mobilisations of 2025.

The immediate trigger for the protests was the notification of the four Labour Codes on November 21, which trade unions opposed as anti-worker and detrimental to long-established labour protections. Workers from coal mines, railways, ports, refineries, textile mills, banks, and other sectors organised rallies, strikes, and workplace protests, with demonstrators in several locations burning copies of the labour code notifications as a symbolic rejection of the reforms.

Farmers joined the protests in large numbers, staging demonstrations at local, district, and state administrative headquarters in solidarity with workers and to press their own unresolved demands. SKM linked the mobilisation to the earlier farmers’ movement that forced the repeal of the three farm laws in 2021, while also highlighting the government’s failure to fulfil its commitment to provide a legal guarantee for Minimum Support Price (MSP), a key promise made at the time of the withdrawal of the protests.

The November 26 actions also carried constitutional significance, as the date coincides with Constitution Day. Protesters accused the BJP-led central government of undermining constitutional values through labour reforms, majoritarian politics, and policies that marginalise religious minorities. The participation of student unions, women’s organisations, agricultural workers, and civil society groups reflected a convergence of labour, agrarian, and democratic rights concerns across the country.

4. Goa mobilises against Coal Transportation corridors 

People’s movements in Goa, supported by the National Alliance of People’s Movements, organised mass protests against infrastructure projects facilitating coal transportation through the state. Protesters warned that rail, road, and port expansions threatened Goa’s ecology and livelihoods.

Demonstrations demanded the halting of port expansion, railway double-tracking, and denotification of rivers declared national waterways. Activists argued that public hearings had been ignored.

The Chalo Lohia Maidan protest highlighted sustained resistance to projects perceived as prioritising corporate interests over environmental protection.

December 2025: Workers’ rights, environmental resistance, and targeted violence

1. ASHAs, Anganwadi and midday meal workers’ day-and-night agitation in Hubballi 

December opened with a significant mobilisation of women workers in Hubballi, Karnataka, where hundreds of Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHAs), Anganwadi workers, and midday meal workers launched an indefinite day-and-night agitation outside the office of Union Minister Pralhad Joshi. Workers travelled from Vijayapura, Bagalkot, Belagavi, Gadag, Haveri, Dharwad, and Uttara Kannada districts to participate in the protest, converging at Chitaguppi Park adjacent to the minister’s office.

The protest was centred on long-pending demands for regularisation of services, improved honoraria, and recognition as workers rather than volunteers or part-time staff. Protest leaders highlighted that despite performing essential public health, nutrition, and education-related work, ASHAs and Anganwadi workers remain excluded from basic labour protections, social security benefits, and fair wages.

As negotiations with officials failed to yield immediate results, protesters spent the night in the open, continuing their agitation into the following day. Trade union leaders, including representatives from Akshara Dasoha Noukarara Sangha, CITU, and the Anganwadi Workers Association, addressed the gathering, framing the struggle as one for dignity of labour and gender justice. The agitation was suspended only after assurances were given by both State and Central Ministers, including an offer for dialogue in Delhi, underscoring the persistence required even to secure negotiations.

2. Violent clashes over Amera Coal Mine expansion in Surguja, Chhattisgarh 

On December 3, tensions escalated sharply in Chhattisgarh’s Surguja district as villagers protested against the proposed expansion of the Amera coal extension mine operated by South Eastern Coalfields Limited (SECL) in Lakhanpur block. Residents alleged that attempts were being made to expand mining operations without lawful land acquisition, consent, or adequate compensation, threatening agricultural land, water sources, and residential areas.

When villagers attempted to prevent officials and workers from accessing the mine site, clashes broke out between protesters and police personnel deployed at the location. According to reports, villagers used sticks, axes, and slingshots, while police resorted to force to control the crowd. Around 40 police personnel sustained injuries, and several villagers were also hurt during the confrontation.

The protest reflected deep-seated anger over extractive projects proceeding without community consent, particularly in tribal and rural areas. Villagers demanded an immediate halt to mining activities until land acquisition was carried out lawfully and livelihood concerns were addressed. The incident highlighted the volatility of resource conflicts and the consequences of bypassing participatory decision-making processes.

3. Farmers’ ‘Rail Roko’ protest against Electricity (Amendment) Bill in Punjab 

On December 5, farmers and farm labourers in Punjab, under the banner of the Kisan Mazdoor Morcha (KMM), staged a statewide ‘symbolic rail roko’ agitation to protest the draft Electricity (Amendment) Bill, 2025, and the installation of prepaid smart meters. Railway tracks were blocked at several locations, including near Amritsar, for a few hours.

Protesters argued that the proposed amendments would adversely affect the agriculture sector by increasing electricity costs and exposing farmers to market-driven tariff regimes. Farmer leaders accused the Centre of ignoring their concerns and warned that the policy would deepen agrarian distress. Several farmer leaders were reportedly detained by police ahead of the protest, though farmers continued to mobilise in large numbers.

The agitation was framed as part of a broader resistance to policy decisions perceived as undermining rural livelihoods. Farmer unions warned of escalating protests, including the removal of smart meters, if demands were not addressed.

4. Anganwadi workers’ statewide strikes in Andhra Pradesh and sit-ins in Tamil Nadu 

Between December 10 and 12, over one lakh Anganwadi workers in Andhra Pradesh went on a statewide strike, while workers in Tamil Nadu organised sit-ins and protests in Chennai demanding improved working conditions and recognition as full-time government employees. Clad in pink saris to symbolise unity, Anganwadi workers and helpers gathered in large numbers, raising slogans and submitting memoranda to authorities.

Key demands included twelve days of menstrual leave annually, twelve months of maternity leave, substantial pay hikes, travel allowances, and regularisation of services. Workers highlighted the contradiction of being classified as part-time employees while routinely working more than eight hours a day for meagre honoraria. Police removed protesters from protest sites in Chennai, underscoring the constrained space for collective bargaining.

The protests foregrounded gendered labour exploitation within state-run welfare schemes and drew attention to the emotional, physical, and economic toll on women workers delivering essential services.

5. Protests against threats to the Aravalli Hills in Rajasthan (December 23)

On December 23, protests intensified across Rajasthan against a new definition of the Aravalli hills accepted by the Supreme Court, which activists and Opposition leaders warned could leave over 90 per cent of the range vulnerable to mining and construction. Demonstrations were held in cities including Jodhpur, Udaipur, and Sikar, with protesters demanding environmental protection and review of the decision.

Clashes were reported in some locations, with police resorting to baton charges and detentions. Environmentalists, lawyers, and local communities argued that the revised definition threatened not only ecological balance but also the livelihoods and cultural sites of tribal and rural populations residing below the 100-metre elevation threshold.

The protests drew on decades-long histories of environmental resistance in the Aravalli region and framed the issue as a struggle to protect a fragile ecological heritage from renewed extractive pressures.

6. Kerala Protests After Attack on Children’s Christmas Carol Group 

Widespread protests erupted in Kerala after an alleged attack on a children’s Christmas carol group in Palakkad by an RSS-BJP worker. The incident, involving physical assault and damage to instruments, triggered condemnation from political parties and church authorities.

Youth organisation DYFI announced district-wide protest carols, framing the response as a defence of communal harmony. Political leaders across parties criticised attempts to justify the attack. Police arrested the accused, who was already facing charges under the Kerala Anti-Social Activities Act. The incident came amid heightened concern over communal violence in the state.

7. Protests against Christmas-time violence targeting Christian communities 

Between December 24 and 26, Christian communities and civil rights groups organised protests and solidarity gatherings across multiple cities in response to a wave of violence, intimidation, and disruptions targeting churches and worshippers during the Christmas period. Incidents included vandalism at Raipur’s Magneto Mall and disruptions of worship services in Jabalpur and Delhi’s Lajpat Nagar.

A prominent silent protest was held in Mumbai’s Goregaon West, organised by the Samvidhan Jagar Yatra Samiti and the Bombay Catholic Sabha. Participants held placards invoking constitutional values and freedom of religion, deliberately avoiding slogans to underscore the dignity and gravity of the protest.

Organisers described the attacks as part of a broader pattern threatening the constitutional right to freedom of conscience and worship. The protests demanded accountability, protection for religious minorities, and an end to impunity for perpetrators.

8. Women protest outside Delhi High Court over bail in Unnao Rape Case (December)

Women’s groups staged protests outside the Delhi High Court following its decision to grant conditional bail to former BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar in the Unnao rape case. Protesters expressed fear for the survivor’s safety and criticised the suspension of sentence in a case involving grave violence.

The survivor and her family publicly voiced distress and loss of faith in the justice system, stating their intention to approach the Supreme Court. Demonstrators demanded accountability and reversal of the bail order.

Police issued warnings to disperse, but protests continued over several days. Women’s rights activists described the agitation as a response to systemic failures in protecting survivors of sexual violence.

Following sustained public pressure, the Central Bureau of Investigation announced it would challenge the bail order, underscoring the impact of protest on institutional responses.

9. Nationwide gig workers’ strike against unsafe work conditions

The year closed with escalating mobilisation by gig and platform workers across India. Following a digital protest on December 25 that saw tens of thousands of workers log off delivery apps, unions announced a nationwide strike on December 31 under the banner of the Indian Federation of App-Based Transport Workers.

Workers demanded the removal of 10-minute delivery models, restoration of earlier payout structures, transparency in algorithmic management, grievance redress mechanisms, and social security benefits. Union leaders highlighted unsafe working conditions, income instability, and intimidation of workers through account deactivations and deployment of bouncers near warehouses.

The strike underscored the growing collective strength of gig workers and marked a significant moment in the evolution of labour resistance within the platform economy.

Conclusion: Protest as the moral record of a year

The protests of 2025, as documented month by month, form a cumulative moral and political record of India’s democratic life. Far from isolated eruptions, these mobilisations reflected sustained citizen engagement across issues of livelihood, environment, identity, labour, and governance.

Throughout the year, people protested not only against specific policies but against patterns of exclusion, neglect, and impunity. Farmers demanded economic justice, workers resisted precarity, students defended institutional autonomy, Adivasi communities protected land and forests, minorities asserted the right to live and worship without fear, and urban residents claimed the right to clean air and dignified survival.

Importantly, 2025 demonstrated that protest in India is adaptive. When streets were policed or permissions denied, dissent moved to courts, documentation, digital spaces, and symbolic action. When large mobilisations were curtailed, smaller local protests sustained democratic pressure. This adaptability reflects a deep-rooted commitment to constitutional values rather than episodic outrage.

The year also revealed the costs of dissent—surveillance, arrests, delayed justice, and social stigmatisation. Yet these pressures did not extinguish public mobilisation. Instead, they underscored the centrality of protest as a corrective mechanism when institutional responsiveness falters.

This year-ender records protest as democratic labour: the continuous work undertaken by citizens to make constitutional promises meaningful. In doing so, it affirms that the strength of a democracy is measured not by the absence of conflict, but by the presence of people willing to publicly contest injustice, month after month, across the country.

Related:

Defending Citizenship, On the Ground | CJP Assam 2025

A Cultural Burden: The ascending hierarchy of caste warfare and the crisis of the Indian republic

From Fringe to Framework: How AHP’s hate ecosystem reconfigured law, society, and electoral politics

2025: On the ground, the bulldozer still arrives before the rule of law

The post 2025 in Protest: Across issues, across India appeared first on SabrangIndia.

On 8 February 2026 following the Thai general election, there was a paradigm shift ushering in a new era of Southeast Asian politics as the ultra-right Bumjaithai Party took control of every organ of Thai state power, democratically or otherwise. The party are relatively new comers to Thai politics but are the clear successor of a long line of monachal-military-capitalist-ultra-nationalists who have long served as a vanguardist nexus of deep state power. They had already allegedly rigged senate elections in the upper-house in 2024 winning a super majority in the supposedly party neutral chamber- an investigation into these charges of vote rigging are now certain to go nowhere. The judiciary, which have long been in the pocket of the aforementioned monachal-military-ultra-nationalists, are also firmly on team Bhumjaithai (BJT), and due to the kingdom’s centralised government structure little to no opposition remains in any state institutional form.

For the past two decades, and even going back to the 1960s, Thailand has had a relatively well organised peasant and workers movement, particularly given the highly reactionary nature of the state, which has been a US vassal ever since their war on Vietnam. Up until the 2000s this movement was largely extra-parliamentary, with the poor organising around the Farmers Federation (1970s), the insurgent Communist Party (1960s-80s) and subsequently a web of trade unions and localised peasant groups. In 2001, however, the left-agrarian-populist Thai-Rak-Thai party (today Phue Thai) emerged as the parliamentary representative of the poor, winning landslide elections, countless policy victories and experiencing mass state repression in the form of military and judiciary coups, extrajudicial killings, arrests and disappearances. Despite Phue Thai’s successes, over the past two decades, the reactionary state has developed a complex system of weaponised lawfare, as documented by researcher Tyrell Haberkorn in her book Dictatorship on Trial. In short, the reactionary elite learnt how to bar the poor from parliament, and at the time of writing, appear to have successfully neutralised the threat for the indefinite future.

In the aftermath of the 8 February election, many of those on the left are nervously looking to a future that resembles Hun Sen’s Cambodia (CPP) or Modi’s India (BJP). While these examples operate in vastly different political landscapes, they share striking tactical similarities in neutralising opposition through legal, administrative, patronage network, and state institutional means. A new reactionary playbook is rapidly being developed and exported across the region. One by which the ultra-right are able to capture state institutions, weaponize ultra-nationalist grievances outwards, and crush opposition. The much touted “rule of law” is stripped of its liberal pretences to serve as a naked instrument of class rule and state capital. Which brings us to the question of what the opposition—what the poor—can do to recognise and challenge this.

The repeated playbook in all of these cases rely on three basic pillars, judicial neutralisation, opposition absorption & ethno-nationalist redirection:

Judicial Neutralisation
In these cases, the state was built on Western ideas of liberal democracy. The judiciary, once framed in liberal theory as an independent check on power, has been effectively hollowed out and repurposed. It functions as an open and concentrated administrative force dedicated to safeguarding the interests of the dominant economic class, operating as a tactical instrument for enforcement of economic and political monopolies, ensuring that the legal system actively facilitates the accumulation of wealth and power for the ruling elite rather than providing a check on state power.

The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), India: Have repeatedly used law enforcement agencies (Enforcement Directorate, Central Bureau of Investigation) to file corruption or money laundering cases against the opposition, often leading to pre-trial detentions that paralyses opposition leadership during elections, bogging them down in judicial procedure.

The Bhumjaithai Party (BJT), Thailand: Benefits from a “Judicial Coup” model where the courts protect the interests of the aforementioned reactionary vanguardist nexus. They benefit from a judiciary that dissolves major rivals and removes opposition leaders, like the judicial coups against Phue Thai Prime ministers and the dissolution of the Move Forward Party, on constitutional grounds. BJT itself rarely initiates these cases but relies on their dependable ultra-nationalist allies to press the charges.

The Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), Cambodia: Perhaps the most ‘advanced’ form, where the distinction between the party and the state has completely withered away. This is the closest we have to Caesarism, in that the judiciary is simply a department of the CPP used to liquidate the political competition, ensuring that the means of production (land, timber, and factories) remain in the hands of the elite class loyal to the CPP project.

Absorbing Opposition
In India, the “BJP Washing Machine” is a mechanism for the centralisation of political rent. Localised political/landowning elites with their existing patronage networks join the BJP to protect their accumulated capital from state seizure and further cement their position locally, while strengthening party hegemony nationally. Former opposition figures become allies and any investigations into their past wrongdoing are washed away by the power of the BJP “Washing Machine”.

In Thailand, the BJT’s absorption of existing “Baan Ya” (local elites) into the party allows for the consolidation of provincial capital and votes. When the judiciary threatens to investigate non-BJT elites, they simply move their assets (votes and influence) to join BJT, moving from a position of weakness to strength and allowing them greater access to state contracts, legal protections and a seat at the table in Bangkok.

In Cambodia, the CPP’s “Golden Handcuffs” are a form of patronage-based feudalism. For opposition figures, or those who wish to challenge CPP hegemony, instead of challenging the party, joining the CPP is the only way to access markets, votes, state contracts, etc., and avoid liquidation. Once tied or ‘handcuffed’ to the CPP they are richly rewarded and protected, providing they adhere to the party’s hegemony.

Ethno-nationalist Redirection
So as to most effectively legitimise their regimes and justify their extraordinary use of heavy handed judiciary, all three cases have relied on stoking ethno-nationalist grievances against outside forces. Ironically, Thailand and Cambodia are mutually dependent on this, given the recent border war, which was instigated by both sides, so as to create this very outcome. As we wrote at the outbreak of the fighting, it was a war of elite consensus on both sides of the border, which served only to strengthen the elites on either side, to justify their militaristic policies, which ultimately are vested in domestic interests, using the military as an internal repressive state apparatus rather than an external—as is the case with the US and Great Britain for example. The same is also true of the BJP, who have used the longstanding conflict with Pakistan to justify crackdowns on domestic opposition who fail to show sufficient fealty towards India’s army in its conflict with Pakistan. In Thailand too, this tactic was used against the left opposition as a means of discipline and control, forcing them to back the reactionary consensus of the ultra-nationalists like BJT or face charges of treason, as was the case with the aforementioned left populist PM Paetongtarn Shinawatra who was evicted from office for this very reason.

The Way Out
The election of Bhumjaithai this month is the most recent country in the region to fall to an ultra-right government using the very same playbook mentioned above. Reactionary forces across Asia are watching closely, taking notes, learning and adapting. It is at this moment that those of us on the left, the poor, must do the same, take time to analyse how reactionary powers operate and where their weaknesses are.

The answer, is of course, not the liberal politics that have been sold by the Western funded NGO’s and think tanks that for decades have portrayed themselves as the vanguards of democracy against fascism. Indeed, they are, in the best case, completely ineffective, as is the case with the Cambodia National Rescue Party, and in the worst case actively harmful, as is the case with The Peoples Party Thailand.

As bleak as the situation may feel in Thailand today in the aftermath of this defeat, there are lessons and examples we can look to as means of resistance, as well as recent moments of such reactionary consensuses breaking—the case of Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, albeit currently in a state of flux. Even within the reactionary consensus, liberatory spaces can be created like the incredible achievements of the left coalition in Kerala.

For the poor of Thailand, we are in the first days of a new paradigm, a new reactionary consensus, where parliamentary political organizing may need to be abandoned for several years. While this particular paradigm is fresh, it is one that the poor have faced many times before. We have seen our comrades dead in the street, we still live with their empty bedrooms in our homes. We heard these stories from our grandparents, who in turn heard them from theirs.We have bounced back before and we inevitably bounce back again, as will the poor of India and Cambodia, such is the nature of class struggle.

This article was produced by Globetrotter. Kay Young is a writer and editor at DinDeng journal (Thailand). He has a forthcoming book on Thai revolutionary history with LeftWord Books (India)

Courtesy: CounterView

The post Asia’s ultra-right consensus: ‘Liberal politics, sold by western funded NGOs, isn’t the answer’ appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Predictably, on February 11, the Centre issued a nationwide protocol prescribing how the national song, written by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, should be sung. At one level, the move may appear innocuous—after all, what harm can there be in honouring a patriotic hymn? Yet, when placed in the larger political context, it raises troubling questions about the direction in which the Narendra Modi government is steering the republic.

The protocol makes it clear that Vande Mataram is to be given precedence over Jana Gana Mana, written and composed by Rabindranath Tagore and adopted as the national anthem. If both are sung, the national song must come first. It also mandates that everyone present must stand in respectful attention when it is sung, with an exception only when the song forms part of a film or documentary. Symbolism, in politics, is never accidental.

This development must be viewed alongside a broader pattern. When the Prime Minister “consecrated” the Ram temple at Ayodhya—on the very site where the Babri Masjid once stood—he blurred the constitutional line separating state and religion. Today, he appears more occupied with temple visits and meetings with religious figures than with addressing the anxieties of citizens grappling with unemployment, inflation and social discord.

There was a time when visiting dignitaries were taken to Bengaluru’s Infosys campus to showcase India’s strides in information technology—a confident, forward-looking nation presenting its modern achievements. Today, they are escorted to Varanasi, the Prime Minister’s constituency, to witness the Ganga aarti. Civilisational heritage has its place, but when spectacle substitutes substance, the message to the world changes.

I have heard Vande Mataram sung at functions organised by RSS veterans such as R. Balashankar. I was once invited to a function hosted by the builders of the Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, where the chief guest was RSS chief Mohan Bhagwat. On such occasions, only the first two stanzas were rendered—the very portions historically accepted as inclusive.

The February 11 circular, however, insists on singing the entire poem, including portions that were consciously set aside to accommodate the sensitivities of religious minorities. During the parliamentary debate, the Prime Minister asserted that Vande Mataram was the one song that united Indians during the freedom struggle. This is simply not true.

The freedom movement resonated with a chorus of slogans and songs, each reflecting diverse ideological streams and regional energies: Jai Hind, popularised by Subhas Chandra Bose; Inquilab Zindabad, immortalised by Bhagat Singh and his comrades; Quit India; Bharat Mata ki Jai; Jai Bharat; and yes, Vande Mataram. To claim that a single chant alone stirred the nationalist soul is to rewrite history through the lens of contemporary politics.

Modi had accused the Congress of “mutilating” Vande Mataram by adopting only its first two stanzas. The charge is historically untenable. Tagore’s Bharoto Bhagyo Bidhata, originally comprising five stanzas, was similarly abridged when the Constituent Assembly adopted only the first stanza as the national anthem on January 24, 1950. It was chosen for its brevity, inclusiveness and suitability for formal occasions. No one accused the Assembly of disrespecting Tagore.

Likewise, the Indian National Congress adopted only the first two stanzas of Vande Mataram in 1937 because later verses contain explicit references to Durga, Lakshmi and other Hindu deities. Leaders of the freedom movement—deeply conscious of India’s plural character—feared that adopting the entire song might alienate non-Hindus. Tagore himself recommended these two stanzas for their “unobjectionable evocation of the beauty of the motherland.”

Nor was this the decision of Jawaharlal Nehru alone, as is often alleged. It emerged from a unanimous Congress Working Committee resolution passed on October 30, 1937, in Calcutta. Among those present were Nehru, Sardar Patel, Dr Rajendra Prasad, Maulana Azad, Bhulabhai Desai, Jamnalal Bajaj, J.B. Kripalani, Pattabhi Sitaramayya, Rajaji, Acharya Narendra Dev, Jayaprakash Narayan and Subhas Chandra Bose. Mahatma Gandhi, though not a formal member, was a special invitee and assisted in drafting the resolution. Moved by Rajendra Prasad and seconded by Patel, it represented consensus—not mutilation.

It is also worth recalling that the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, founded in 1925—half a century after Vande Mataram was written—did not adopt it as its anthem. Instead, it chose Namaste Sada Vatsale Matrubhume, composed by Narhar Narayan Bhide. Now, the RSS does sing Vande Mataram, but it does not sing Jana Gana Mana. Those curious may consult old issues of its mouthpiece, Organiser.

In its early years, the RSS and allied publications derided Jana Gana Mana as a supposed paean to the British monarch, misreading Tagore’s lyrics as loyalty to empire. This claim, long debunked by historians, ignored Tagore’s own clarification that the song hailed the divine guide of India’s destiny, not any earthly ruler.

I recently watched an RSS shakha meeting in Delhi. It began with the RSS anthem and concluded with Vande Mataram, followed by boisterous slogan-shouting. I am not sure whether they sang the full version or the historically accepted two stanzas.

This raises an interesting question. If the government now insists that Vande Mataram take precedence over all else, will the RSS accord it precedence over its own Namaste Sada Vatsale? Or will protocol, like history, prove to be selectively applied?

The deeper unease surrounding the present directive is not confined to Jana Gana Mana alone. The RSS had, for decades, objected even to the national flag, arguing that the Tricolour did not reflect India’s “civilisational ethos.” For years, it declined to hoist the flag at its shakhas. Only after the Modi government launched a hyper-enthusiastic flag-waving campaign did the saffron brotherhood warm up to the Tricolour.

Returning to Vande Mataram, it is important to recall that objections to it were not solely Muslim. The charge of idolatry—of venerating the nation as a goddess—troubled other reformist traditions as well.

I was reminded of this during the funeral of my former colleague at The Hindustan Times, Harish Bhanot, in Chandigarh. His daughter, Neerja Bhanot, remains etched in national memory. On September 5, 1986, during the hijacking of Pan Am Flight 73, the 22-year-old flight attendant laid down her life saving hundreds. She became the first woman and the youngest recipient of the Ashok Chakra.

Bhanot was a follower of the Arya Samaj, and through him I had my first glimpse into that reformist tradition. It was the first time I entered an Arya Samaj temple. The walls bore inscriptions—Vedic verses rendered in bold script—but there was no idol, no sculpted deity, no ritual paraphernalia of worship. The austerity was striking, almost disarming. Swami Agnivesh, who belonged to this movement, was a friend. He later spoke at the Maramon Convention. We know who brutally attacked him for his views.

The point bears emphasis: opposition to idolatry is not confined to Islam. Arya Samajists, too, consider it a deviation from true monotheism. When the state elevates a song that personifies the nation as a goddess, it inadvertently places such citizens—Muslim and Hindu alike—in a moral quandary.

The Centre’s directive mandating the full six-stanza, three-minute-and-ten-second rendition of Vande Mataram at official occasions—during flag unfurling, the President’s arrival, and before and after her addresses—effectively pushes Jana Gana Mana to the margins. For all practical purposes, the national anthem risks being reduced to a ceremonial afterthought. It bears recalling that Sri Aurobindo, who rendered the song into English, viewed it as an anthem of a united Bengal in its struggle against colonial rule, not as a national song for the whole of India.

The text itself is rooted in a specific historical moment: its landscape is regional, its imagery sectarian to many, and even its demographic references belong to an era when India, as we know it today, did not exist. Protocol, once a matter of dignified brevity, now threatens to become an endurance test. Elderly citizens, people with arthritis, and those unable to stand for prolonged periods may find patriotism measured not by feeling but by stamina.

A word about the poet, Bankim was among the earliest architects of the Bengal Renaissance—scholar, novelist, satirist, administrator. His prose reshaped Bengali literature and stirred cultural self-awareness among Hindu Bengalis. Yet his nationalism was not the inclusive vision later articulated by Mahatma Gandhi or Jawaharlal Nehru.

His 1882 novel Anandmath forms the backdrop of Vande Mataram. It depicts ascetic warriors—the Sannyasis—fighting Muslim rule. Muslims are portrayed as foreign invaders and oppressors; the narrative closes not with reconciliation but with ascendancy.

Historians S. M. Burke and Salim Al-Din Quraishi, in The British Raj in India: An Historical Review, note that even colonial authorities viewed the song with suspicion. Sir Henry Craik objected that it originated as a hymn of hate against Muslims and had become a war cry of militants in Bengal. In one exchange from Anandamath, a character declares that Hinduism cannot survive unless “the bearded drunkards are expelled”—and, when asked how, replies: “By killing.”

Given such a history, the Congress leadership’s decision to adopt only the nonsectarian stanzas was not cowardice but statesmanship.

Bankim himself was not always a nationalist in the modern sense. In his early writings, he admired Europe’s scientific method, governance, and culture, describing it as a “more perfect type of civilisation,” while lamenting India’s “arrested development.” He praised Europe’s inductive method—systematic observation, experiment, and application of knowledge into power. By the time he wrote Anandamath, he had transformed into a cultural revivalist.

That transformation mirrors our own national journey: from self-doubt to assertion, from reform to revival, from pluralism to a more brittle uniformity.

My grandson Nehemiah once had an unusual hobby. In Class 2 or 3, he delighted in listening to national anthems of different countries. He could identify them by tune and lyric. Among his favourites was the Russian anthem; he admired its martial music.

He informed me—authoritatively, as only children could—that Greece had the longest anthem but uses a shortened version; the Netherlands had the oldest; the American anthem was the most difficult to sing; and Japan’s could be rendered in under 45 seconds. The only anthem he could sing flawlessly, he said, was that of Bahrain. Why? Because it had no words—only sound.

His innocent observations carry a profound lesson: an anthem’s power lies in its brevity, clarity, and inclusiveness. Over three minutes is an eternity when symbolism overshadows sentiment.

Vande Mataram proclaims:
Mother, I praise thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams…

One cannot help asking: Is today’s India—where rivers like the Yamuna in Delhi run dark with sewage and foam—the landscape Bankim praised? Should not the government focus first on making the country worthy of such hymns? Clean rivers, breathable air, and dignified living conditions would inspire spontaneous patriotism far more effectively than mandated recitations.

Instead, we risk compelling citizens—particularly Muslims and Christians—to sing praises that resemble devotion to a Hindu goddess. Patriotism, when coerced, curdles into compliance; when inclusive, it blossoms into belonging.

Nations are not sustained by songs alone. They endure through shared values: justice, dignity, equality, and mutual respect. Symbols matter, but they must unite rather than divide. The framers of the Republic understood this when they chose Jana Gana Mana—brief, inclusive, geographically expansive—as the anthem, while according Vande Mataram an honoured but limited place.

To elevate one by diminishing the other is to reopen settled questions and unsettle fragile harmonies. The real test of nationalism is not how loudly we sing, how long we stand, or how many flags we wave. It lies in whether every citizen—Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian, believer, reformist, or atheist—feels equally at home in the Republic.

If a song must be sung, let it be one that all can sing without hesitation. If a flag must be waved, let it be one that all embrace without qualification. And if a nation must be worshipped, let it be through service—clean rivers, just laws, and compassionate governance—rather than through enforced hymns. Only then will patriotism cease to be performance and become, once again, a shared and silent pride.

Courtesy: Indian Currents

The post Vande Mataram Requiem for Jana Gana Mana appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Roughly handmade diyas—uneven, cracked, some leaning like a quiet congregation of forms waiting to be acknowledged—sit upon a mat. Beside them lies a dense, unmoving hump of raw clay, holding within its silence the memory of the ground from which it was taken. At the far end stands the chak, the potter’s wheel. It does not announce itself; it simply exists, anchored and patient, flanked by a bowl of water catching the light and a thin cutting thread coiled like a secret.

This is the sanctuary of Dr. Sangeeta Jawla, a researcher, potter, and storyteller who has spent the last seven years excavating the stories trapped within India’s soil. To attend her session is not to watch a demonstration; it is to enter a rhythm that has pulsed through the subcontinent for millennia. At a young age, she has evolved into a storyteller who serves as a bridge between the academic study of folklore and the tactile world of ceramic art. Her journey began with a childhood curiosity in her ancestral village in Haryana and evolved into a rigorous seven-year research project documenting the oral traditions of India’s potter communities.

Through her practice, Sangeeta seeks to fill the “gaps in the archive,” exploring how Hindu, Muslim, and Tribal narratives differ in their spiritual and physical relationship with the earth. Her work is a rare blend of artistic reclamation and sociological inquiry, specifically challenging the gendered norms of the craft. By placing herself at the wheel and performing the arduous labour of clay preparation, she brings visibility to the millions of unnamed women whose hands have sustained the rhythm of Indian pottery for centuries.

A central theme in Sangeeta’s work is the etymology of the name Prajapati, a title used by potters across India. While the word translates to “Lord of Procreation” or “Creator,” the communities bearing the name often live at the margins of the social hierarchy. Sangeeta uses her performances to highlight this “indispensability without status,” asking the audience to reconcile the divine origins of the craft with the difficult socio-economic realities of the craftsmen.

In her mesmerising presentation this evening, which the writer attended, Sangeeta entered without ceremony. There are no heavy credentials offered, no academic posture. What she carries instead are journeys—across regions, communities, and lives shaped by earth. Her storytelling begins not with a greeting, but with the tactile reality of labour.

Her hands reach for the clay. It meets the mat with a soft, damp thud. Fingers press, release, and hesitate before finding trust in the material. As the chak begins to turn, it produces a low, continuous hum. To the untrained ear, it is ambient noise; to the potter, it is the “rhyme of everyday survival.” It is a cadence that women across rural India recognise because it mirrors their own lives—constant, patient, and largely unnoticed. It is the music of the unseen.

Sangeeta’s narratives are not the romanticised, picturesque tales of “craft” often found in coffee-table books. Her stories are gathered from years of visiting potter communities—initially Hindu, and increasingly Tribal and Muslim potters—to understand the vast, differing frameworks of their existence.

She explores a fascinating paradox: the potter is indispensable to Indian social and cultural life, shaping the vessels for births, rituals, and deaths, yet remains pushed to the lowest strata of society. “Clay carries a paradox,” she notes. “Indispensability without status, skill without recognition.”

In Hindu traditions, tools are often described as divine gifts from Shiva or Vishnu. In contrast, tribal tales can be “graphic,” detailing a more visceral, raw acquisition of tools from the natural world. By engraving these stories onto her pottery, Sangeeta ensures that the clay itself becomes an archive, recording not just folklore, but the politics of identity and survival.

To look at Sangeeta’s finished work is to see a visual tapestry of these oral histories. Her process is one of deep patience and technical care. Unlike contemporary potters who might reach for commercial glazes or vibrant synthetic paints, Sangeeta stays true to the rustic roots of the craft. She emulates rural artisans by applying a layer of khadiya mitti, a white chalk clay, over the damp terracotta. This ivory-hued slip acts as a canvas of depth. Using fine tools, she cuts through the white layer to reveal the rich, burnt-orange earth beneath.

“I heard the stories; I didn’t see them,” she explains. “The visualisation is purely imaginative.” Each line she etches represents a character from a potter’s folktale or a movement of a woman’s hand. She describes the process as “nurturing a child,” often staying up all night to monitor the drying process, ensuring the tension in the clay does not crack the narrative she has so carefully carved. The result is a striking contrast: a dark, earthy line singing against a bone-white surface, making the stories of the community “pop” with visual urgency.

At the heart of Sangeeta’s practice is a sharp, necessary gender lens. In the world of pottery, labour is strictly—and often unfairly—divided. Women perform the most arduous and foundational tasks: they trek to collect the clay, they sieve the soil for impurities, they fetch the water, and they spend hours kneading the earth into a workable state. Without their labour, the wheel cannot turn.

Yet, a traditional boundary exists: women are often kept away from the chak itself. The wheel—the visible symbol of creation and mastery—remains a male domain. Sangeeta’s performance is an act of reclamation. As she moves through the space, her hands and feet immersed in soil, she performs this “invisible” labour. She kneads the clay with her legs, grounding herself fully, allowing her body to become part of the material. She uses tools as metaphors: the sieve speaks of filtration and control; the act of kneading speaks of endurance; the wheel speaks of authority and access.

As the audience is drawn in—no longer spectators, but participants touching and shaping the soil—the atmosphere thickens. Time stretches and folds. In the midst of the labour, Sangeeta recites a couplet from the mystic poet Kabir, allowing the words to rise naturally from the movement of her body. She recites, “Maati kahe kumhar se, tu kya ronde mohe, Ek din aisa aayega, main rondungi tohe.” The meaning: the clay says to the potter, “Why do you trample me now? A day will come when I shall be the one to trample you.”’

The lines arrive not as literature, but as a prophecy. It is a moment where labour confronts power and mortality answers control. The room grows still; the only sound is the whisper of water and the breath of the participants. For Sangeeta, who also carries this “embodied approach” into the classroom as a teacher, pottery is a way of knowing that bypasses the intellect and speaks directly to the nerves. In a world obsessed with speed and digital detachment, her work insists on the “slow answer.”

When the workshop ends, there is often a profound silence. People forget to clap, their hands still stained with the grey-brown dust of the earth. They remain bound not by the spectacle they have seen, but by the realisation of what the clay has revealed.

About Author: Anu Jain is a Doctoral Scholar at Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi. Her research examines the intersection of Gandhian philosophy and Gender with a particular focus on the crucial role of Elected Women Representatives (EWRs).

Courtesy: The AIDEM

The post Listening to the Soil : Dr Sangeeta Jawla’s Lyrical Revolt in Clay appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Beyond addressing deep fakes and non-consensual synthetic imagery, the notification also restructures executive takedown authority and conditions safe harbour protection more explicitly on active compliance. The three-hour removal window for court orders and authorised government intimations marks a substantial shift from the earlier 36-hour framework. While the amendments respond to documented harms arising from AI misuse, they also expand administrative discretion and increase compliance pressure on platforms—raising important questions about proportionality, due process, and the risk of over-removal.

A close reading of the Gazette text suggests that the impact of these changes will depend not only on their stated objectives, but on how the enhanced takedown powers and compressed timelines are exercised in practice.

Formal definition of “synthetically generated information”

For the first time, the Rules define “synthetically generated information” as audio, visual or audio-visual content that is artificially or algorithmically created, generated, modified or altered using a computer resource in a manner that appears real and depicts a person or event likely to be perceived as authentic.

The definition is focused on deception and perceptual realism. Routine editing, accessibility tools, formatting, transcription and good-faith technical corrections are excluded, provided they do not materially alter the meaning of content.

Compared to the draft released in October 2025, the final rules narrow the scope. As reported by Mint, the government dropped the proposal to watermark 10% of general online content and confined labelling requirements to content that materially misrepresents persons or events.

This narrowing addresses some industry concerns about over breadth. However, the definition remains perception-based and could potentially capture satire, parody or political manipulation depending on interpretation.

Mandatory labelling and metadata requirements

Intermediaries that enable the creation or dissemination of synthetic content must:

• Ensure clear labelling of such content;
• Provide audio disclosures where applicable;
• Embed permanent metadata or provenance markers;
• Prevent removal or suppression of such markers.

These requirements are framed as transparency obligations. The objective appears to be traceability and user awareness.

However, two concerns arise:

1. Technical feasibility and cross-platform interoperability — not all platforms may be able to uniformly embed and preserve provenance markers, particularly where content travels across services.
2. Privacy and surveillance implications — embedding permanent identifiers may allow tracking beyond immediate moderation needs.

The Rules state that metadata must be embedded “to the extent technically feasible,” but no standards are specified. This leaves compliance interpretation to executive discretion.

Prohibition and automated safeguards

The Rules require intermediaries to deploy reasonable and appropriate technical measures to prevent the generation or dissemination of unlawful synthetic content. The Gazette does not mandate any specific technological solution. The amendments require intermediaries to deploy automated and technical safeguards to prevent synthetic content involving:

• Child sexual abuse material;
• Non-consensual intimate imagery;
• False electronic records;
• Impersonation;
• Obscenity;
• Content relating to explosives, arms or ammunition;
• Deceptive portrayal of individuals or events.

The inclusion of non-consensual deep fake pornography is a significant development, given the documented increase in such cases.

However, mandating automated safeguards raises operational and rights-based concerns. Automated detection systems are prone to error, bias and over blocking — especially in politically sensitive contexts. Without procedural safeguards or appeal transparency requirements, erroneous removals may be difficult to contest.

User declaration and verification obligations

Significant Social Media Intermediaries (SSMIs) must:

• Obtain a declaration from users stating whether content is synthetically generated;
• Deploy technical tools to verify such declarations;
• Ensure prominent disclosure if content is confirmed synthetic.

Failure to act may result in loss of due diligence protection under Section 79 of the IT Act. This requirement effectively shifts platforms from reactive moderation to proactive verification. The obligation to verify user declarations may require AI-based detection systems, increasing reliance on automated moderation.

Given the three-hour takedown window (discussed below), platforms may choose conservative enforcement strategies, increasing the likelihood of over-removal.

Reduced takedown timelines

The most operationally significant change is the reduction of takedown timelines:

• Government or court orders: 36 hours → 3 hours
• Non-consensual intimate imagery: 24 hours → 2 hours
• Complaint resolution: 72 hours → 36 hours
• Grievance acknowledgement: 15 days → 7 days

The three-hour compliance window applies specifically to removal or disabling of access upon receipt of a court order or a written, reasoned intimation issued by an authorised government officer of the prescribed rank. It does not apply to all user complaints. The reduction from 72 hours to 36 hours applies to specified unlawful content categories under grievance redressal provisions. The three-hour timeline is limited to formal governmental or judicial directions. The government has argued, as reported by Mint, that platforms have the technical capacity to act within minutes and that government requests form a small proportion of total removals. However, experience from prior litigation suggests concerns about misuse of takedown powers are not hypothetical.

In litigation before the Karnataka High Court, X (formerly Twitter) argued that government notices lacked adequate reasoning and were procedurally deficient. Although the High Court dismissed X’s plea, the case highlighted recurring issues regarding:

• Insufficiently reasoned takedown notices;
• Lack of transparency;
• Pressure to comply within tight deadlines.

As reported by Scroll, advocacy group Internet Freedom Foundation (IFF) has warned that compressed timelines, combined with expanded executive powers, may increase over-removal and chill lawful expression.

When liability risk is high and time is limited, platforms are likely to remove content first and review later.

Clarification of authorities empowered to issue takedown notices

The amendments specify that takedown directions may be issued:

• By a court of competent jurisdiction;
• By a government official not below the rank of Joint Secretary or Director through a written, reasoned intimation;
• By police officers not below Deputy Inspector General rank.

Notices must specify the legal basis, statutory provision invoked, and the precise URL or electronic location of the content. A monthly review by a Secretary-level officer is required to ensure necessity and proportionality. The monthly review mechanism is internal to the executive and does not create an independent or judicial oversight structure. The Rules do not require publication of review outcomes.

On paper, this introduces greater formalisation compared to the earlier reference to “appropriate government or its agency.”

However, two structural concerns remain:

1. Executive dominance — court orders are not mandatory; executive officials retain independent takedown authority.
2. Limited transparency — the Rules do not require publication of takedown statistics, redacted orders, or independent oversight.

As per Scroll, IFF has criticised the amendments as entrenching opacity and weakening procedural safeguards, particularly since they were notified without fresh public consultation.

Safe Harbour: Narrowed through due diligence

Safe harbour protection under Section 79 remains conditional upon compliance with due diligence obligations. The Rules clarify that removal of unlawful or synthetic content, including through automated means, will not by itself jeopardise immunity. However, immunity may be affected where an intermediary knowingly permits or fails to act upon prohibited content.

The effect is to condition immunity more tightly on active compliance.

In combination with compressed timelines, this may incentivise platforms to err on the side of removal in borderline cases.

Below is a table based on the recent amendments that have been made.

Risk of over breadth and chilling effects

The amendments aim to address genuine harms — including deep fake pornography, impersonation scams and misinformation.

However, the regulatory design raises concerns:

• Short compliance windows reduce scope for contextual evaluation.
• Automated safeguards may suppress lawful content, including satire or political critique.
• Executive takedown authority remains broad, with limited independent review.
• Procedural safeguards are internal rather than judicial.

India has previously witnessed allegations of overbroad or insufficiently reasoned takedown orders. In the absence of transparency requirements or appeal mechanisms within the Rules themselves, concerns about misuse persist.

Constitutional Implications

Under Article 19(1)(a), any restriction on speech must satisfy reasonableness and proportionality.

The amendments pursue legitimate aims — protection against deception, exploitation and harm. However, proportionality requires that restrictions be narrowly tailored and accompanied by adequate safeguards.

Key questions that may arise in future litigation include:

• Whether a three-hour takedown window is proportionate in all categories of speech;
• Whether executive-issued takedown notices provide sufficient procedural fairness;
• Whether automated moderation requirements lead to systematic over-removal;
• Whether metadata embedding raises privacy concerns.

Conclusion

The amended IT Rules represent a significant expansion of regulatory oversight over synthetic and AI-generated content. They respond to real harms, particularly non-consensual deep fakes and impersonation.

At the same time, the framework strengthens executive takedown powers, shortens compliance timelines, and conditions safe harbour more strictly on active intervention by intermediaries.

The complete rules may be accessed here.

Related:

IT Rules 2023: Union Government can now flag content relating to any of its “businesses” as “misleading”

More than 100 YouTube channels blocked under new IT Rules: GOI

Madras HC restrains action against digital news platforms under IT Rules 2021

IT Rules: Oversight mechanism may rob the media of its independence, says Madras HC

The wide terms of the IT Rules 2021 have a chilling effect on freedom of speech: Bom HC

Draft DPDP Rules, 2025, seeds of both surveillance and freedom

By striking down the IT (Amendment) Rules, 2023 as unconstitutional, Bombay HC curbs Union Govt control over online content

The post Synthetic Content, Three-Hour Compliance and the Risk of Over-Removal: Analysing the IT rules amendments appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The 2026 regulations were not a radical departure but an attempt to strengthen and enforce what had already been promised 14 years earlier. The UGC (Promotion of Equity in Higher Educational Institutions) Regulations, 2012 were meant to combat discrimination on campuses by mandating equity committees, grievance redressal mechanisms, and preventive measures. Yet, for over a decade, these regulations were never implemented. They were ignored from the outset, then quietly forgotten, as if they had never existed.

This systemic neglect was precisely what drove Radhika Vemula and Abeda Tadvi to file their landmark public interest litigation in 2019. Having lost their children—Rohith and Payal—to caste atrocities in educational institutions, they sought legally binding and enforceable safeguards to protect the students. Their core demand was clear: transform the non-binding, toothless 2012 guidelines into mandatory regulations with accountability mechanisms and penalty for violations. Had the 2012 regulations been implemented properly, countless lives might have been saved. The pervasive casteism in our universities thrives due to institutional apathy and regulatory impunity. The 2026 rules were born from that grief and struggle, aiming to close the enforcement gap. The fact that they were stayed within a week, while the original guidelines gathered dust for 14 years, underscores not just bureaucratic inertia, but active resistance to equity from those who benefit from the status quo.

Even if the 2026 guidelines were to take effect, their implementation across our savarna-dominated campuses remains a distant hope. These institutions have long flouted even mandatory reservation norms in faculty hiring and student admissions with systemic impunity. They are shielded by a savarna bureaucracy that turns a blind eye, a savarna judiciary that provides a legal free pass, and a savarna media apparatus that sanitizes their image—all while our DBA children face daily hostility and violence within these very spaces. There is a profound confidence among these savarnas that no political will exists to enforce equity, and that even if exposed, their institutions will be protected by judiciary.

The contrast is telling. Regulations like POSH and anti-ragging policies, however imperfect, were adopted in many campuses without major backlash. But the moment caste equity is on the agenda, the entrenched resistance is immediate and visceral. This reveals not a problem of feasibility, but one of fundamental opposition to dismantling caste privilege. The guidelines, therefore, are not merely a policy challenge—they are a litmus test of the willingness to cease being a site of exclusion and violence.

Though these regulations faced improbable implementation, savarnas instantly mobilized narratives of unfairness and “reverse discrimination.” This reaction exposes the fragility underlying their power: it is the panic of a fortress at the first sign of a single blade of grass upon its walls. Despite all their control over the machinery of state, capital, and media, their dominance is so brittle that they perceive the slightest reform as an existential threat. Their panic is the ultimate confession; it screams to the world that they want to continue harassing and killing DBA students with impunity.

Documented through countless surveys and research, the reality of harassment faced by DBA students is both systematic and routine. A survey in 2022 shed light into this harassment which begins at admission, where the entrance rank of the student itself becomes a public marker used to question their merit, label them quota students, and justify exclusion. Daily life is punctuated by casteist slurs, derogatory anti-reservation jokes and memes shared openly on social media and in group chats, and the constant probing for surnames to out their identity. Some face untouchability in hostels, harassment due to the way they speak, for eating non-veg food, or the way they dress. Academically, they face discrimination from faculty who deny courses or project opportunities, offer insensitive mentorship, and fail to curb open anti-reservation rants in classrooms. They are socially ostracized—excluded from study groups, friendships, and casual conversations—and their opinions are routinely sidelined. Even institutional support structures fail them: counselling services lack caste sensitivity and breach confidentiality, scholarship staff deliberately complicate processes, and book bank usage is met with harassment. This environment enforces a constant message of being “undeserving,” inflicts profound guilt for availing rightful benefits, and associates any academic struggle not as an individual issue but with their caste identity. The casteist logic emphasises the failure of one savarna as an individual flaw, while the failure of one DBA student becomes proof of lack of merit of an entire community. The cumulative effect is a relentless assault on their dignity, mental health, and academic trajectory, all while the institution and its savarna majority normalize and embolden this violence.

The evidence of violence towards DBA students is overwhelming: with systemic non-implementation of past guidelines and reservation, the countless lives that has been taken from us, the invisible dropouts, life-long severe mental health crises, and survey after survey documenting these caste-based hostility. Yet, all it takes is for the savarnas to invoke the spectre of fraudulent complaints—a ghost they themselves have conjured—for the entire discourse to shift and the long-suppressed cry for justice is, once again, buried beneath their feigned victimhood.

In a nation where a savarna lawyer can hurl footwear at a Dalit Chief Justice with impunity—where even the highest offices offer no refuge from casteist humiliation—what genuine safety or dignity can students from socially marginalized communities possibly expect within the savarna bastions of academia? If the pinnacle of judicial authority is not shielded from such brazen contempt, what hope remains for a DBA student in a hostel, a classroom, or a library? These institutions are not merely indifferent; they are active enablers of a hierarchy that views our presence as an affront, our success as a threat, and our justice as a disruption to be dismissed. Our campuses do not fail by accident; they perform exactly as designed—as fortresses of caste, gatekeepers of exclusion, and open halls of violence.

These guidelines represented a crucial first step. At the very least, they offered a thin hope for students to hold onto by establishing a formal mechanism for grievance redressal, even if their full implementation always seemed unlikely. Without reservation being implemented properly in faculty recruitment, which can increase the representation of DBA in faculty and administration, these campuses will always remain graveyards for students. These grievance redressal mechanisms and structural inclusion must be complemented by compulsory caste-sensitization courses for all students and faculty, modelled on existing POSH sensitization programs. Before teaching engineering or science; we must teach humanity. We have had too many institutes of eminence; we now need institutes of empathy. Furthermore, accountability cannot be confined to campus gates. For these policies to have teeth, representation must extend beyond academia into the very bureaucracies and judiciaries that oversee these institutions. Only when the systems meant to audit and enforce are themselves reflective of the diversity, can we ensure that campuses are truly held accountable for their violations.

Related:

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

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

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

The post A Long Battle, A Swift Stay: The Fight for Equitable Campuses appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Addressed to the Chief Election Commissioner and copied to the Chief Electoral Officer, Assam, the memorandum documents a disturbing pattern of unauthorised deletions, fabricated objections, false declarations of death, and misuse of statutory forms, allegedly targeting legitimate voters across multiple districts of the State. Along with CJP, Assam Majuri Sramik Union, Banchana Birdodhi Mancha and Forum for Social Harmony are also the signatories to this memorandum.

Dead voters filing objections, living voters declared dead

Among the most alarming allegations are instances where “dead persons” are shown as having filed objections against living voters, as well as complaints branding living electors as deceased. The memorandum flags this as a grave subversion of electoral procedures, calling for immediate scrutiny of how such objections were accepted during the SR process.

In several cases, voters who never changed residence were issued objections falsely claiming that they had shifted addresses. A separate annexure, the groups state, lists such affected voters.

A single woman, 64 objections — all denied

The memorandum details a striking case from Goalpara town, where a woman named Naba Bala Ray from Jyotinagar, Krishnai, was shown to have filed 64 objections against voters. When the affected voters approached her, she categorically denied filing any objections. While she later withdrew some complaints in Assamese, the memorandum notes a glaring inconsistency: her signatures also appeared on Form 7 complaints in English, which she claimed she could not write or understand.

CJP annexed these complaints as evidence of forgery and fabrication within the objection process.

Man objects to himself — and 133 others

In another extraordinary instance from Shribhumi district (formerly Karimganj), a man named Salim Ahmed was shown as having filed objections against himself and 133 other voters, alleging they were not genuine electors. According to the memorandum, Ahmed told the Booth Level Officer that he never filed any such objection, pointing to what the groups describe as a “fully fabricated” complaint attributed to him without consent or knowledge.

BJP leaders accused of unauthorised access to election data

Beyond individual cases, the memorandum raises grave institutional concerns. It alleges that office-bearers of the Bharatiya Janata Party, including district-level leaders and ST Morcha functionaries, unauthorisedly entered the office of the Co-District Commissioner, Boko-Chhaygaon, and accessed official documents and the Election Commission’s electronic database.

Such actions, if proven, would amount to a serious breach of electoral neutrality and administrative safeguards, the groups warn.

Migrant workers disproportionately affected

The memorandum also flags how migrant labourers from Assam were particularly vulnerable during the SR process. Voters who had temporarily left the State for work during verification reportedly returned to find fresh objections raised against their names, effectively penalising economic migration and seasonal labour mobility.

Allegations of partisan signalling from political executive

Calling for institutional impartiality, CJP and other groups cite alleged interference in the Boko-Chhaygaon constituency and refer to statements attributed to Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma, which they characterise as “blatantly partisan” and inconsistent with the constitutional requirement of a neutral electoral process.

Demands to the Election Commission

The memorandum places eight specific demands before the ECI, including:

• Withdrawal of objections where the original complainant is absent during hearings
• Investigation and penal action for false Form 7 complaints
• Action under Section 31 of the Representation of the People Act, 1950 against false declarants
• Compensation for victims subjected to mental, physical, or financial harassment
• Extension of timelines for claims and publication of the final electoral roll

At its core, the memorandum urges the Election Commission to restore procedural integrity and ensure that Assam’s electoral rolls are prepared “free and fair, in the interests of democracy”.

Why was this memorandum submitted?

Coming amid heightened national scrutiny of electoral processes, the allegations — if substantiated — point not merely to clerical lapses but to a structural vulnerability in voter list revision mechanisms, particularly in politically sensitive regions. The memorandum underscores that electoral rolls are not administrative lists but constitutional instruments, foundational to the exercise of universal adult franchise.

The Election Commission has not yet responded to the memorandum.

The complete memorandum may be read below.

Detailed report may be read here.

Related:

Supreme Court defers hearing in batch of petitions, led by CJP, challenging state Anti-Conversion laws; interim relief applications pending since April 2025

CJP flags Zee News broadcast ‘Kalicharan Maharaj vs 4 Maulanas’ for communal framing before NBDSA

A voter list exercise under scrutiny: Assam’s Special Revision of electoral rolls, allegations of targeted harassment and misuse of Form-7

The case of “pushback” of Doyjan Bibi and the quiet normalisation of undocumented deportations

The post Assam’s Electoral Rolls in Crisis: CJP flags structural manipulation in Summary Revision appeared first on SabrangIndia.

What followed has only deepened that concern. Across campuses, students protesting the Supreme Court stay on UGC (Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions) Regulations, 2026 have faced intimidation, surveillance, violence, and criminal process. Instead of debate, there has been policing. Instead of institutional introspection, securitisation. And instead of engagement with the substance of caste discrimination, there has been an aggressive narrowing of what may even be spoken.

Together, these developments mark a dangerous convergence: the criminalisation of speech, the judicial suspension of equity safeguards, and the shrinking of democratic space within institutions meant to nurture critical thought.

देशभर में यूजीसी एक्ट के समर्थन में बहुजन छात्रों के प्रदर्शन हो रहे हैं, लेकिन मुख्यधारा का मीडिया चुप है। pic.twitter.com/Nqdq8CpJhd

— Hansraj Meena (@HansrajMeena) February 4, 2026

A judicial stay that did not calm campuses—but exposed a fault line

The immediate trigger for nationwide student mobilisation was the Supreme Court’s decision to stay the UGC Equity Regulations 2026, observing that the framework appeared “too sweeping” and required closer scrutiny. The stay was framed as a neutral act of caution. On campuses, it was experienced as something else entirely: a sudden withdrawal of long-awaited recognition.

As reported by India Today, students argued that the regulations were halted before they could even be tested. No implementation, no data, no demonstrated misuse—only a speculative fear that accountability mechanisms might be abused. The contrast was striking. In a legal system where far-reaching executive actions are often allowed to operate while constitutional challenges remain pending for years, a framework designed to protect marginalised students was frozen at inception.

The context matters. The 2026 regulations did not emerge in a vacuum. They were the product of years of litigation, including the long-pending petition filed by the mothers of Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi, both of whom died by suicide after alleged caste-based harassment. Over time, the Supreme Court itself sought reports, monitored compliance, and pressed for reform. A Parliamentary Standing Committee reviewed the draft regulations in late 2025, recommending substantive changes—many of which were incorporated.

Yet, at the very first hearing after notification, the framework was stayed.

For students already navigating hostile campuses, the implication was stark: caste discrimination may be acknowledged rhetorically, but meaningful institutional safeguards remain deeply contested.

Campuses Respond: Different languages, the same demand for justice

The response to the stay has varied across universities, shaped by institutional histories and student politics. But taken together, protests at JNU, BHU, and Delhi University reveal a shared insistence that equity cannot remain a matter of administrative goodwill.

JNU: The defence of ideological space

At Jawaharlal Nehru University, students organised torchlight processions demanding immediate implementation of the regulations and renewed calls for a statutory Rohith Act—a central anti-discrimination law for higher education.

Placards and slogans opposing Brahmanism and Manusmriti dominated the march. Defending the language used, JNUSU representatives told PTI that the slogans were ideological critiques, not attacks on any caste group—an important distinction grounded in established free-speech jurisprudence. Political critique, even when sharp or unsettling, lies at the heart of constitutional democracy.

Student leaders also raised a pointed question: why was extraordinary urgency shown in staying these regulations when countless cases involving civil liberties remain pending for years? The warning from the campus was clear—if justice is indefinitely deferred within universities, it will not remain confined there.

UGC गाइडलाइन के समर्थन में जेएनयू स्टूडेंट्स का मार्च#JNU #UGCRegulations2026 pic.twitter.com/S9tlsULus0

— Dalit Dastak | दलित दस्तक (@DalitDastak) February 4, 2026

BHU: Evidence, reports, and institutional failure

At Banaras Hindu University, the protest took a different form. Hundreds of SC, ST, and OBC students marched carrying letters, official reports, and citations, demanding Equal Opportunity Centres, Equity Committees, transparency in grievance redressal, and public disclosure of compliance.

As reported by India Today, students cited the Thorat Committee Report (2007) and the IIT Delhi study (2019), both of which document systemic discrimination and its links to mental health crises, dropouts, and suicides. The emphasis here was not symbolic resistance but institutional accountability.

A heavy police presence and alert proctorial boards accompanied the march—an unsettling reminder of how quickly claims of discrimination are met with securitisation rather than reform.

Delhi University: From regulation to law

At Delhi University, Left-backed student groups led an “Equity March” through North Campus, framing the issue as a legislative and constitutional question. According to The Times of India, speakers argued that without statutory backing, grievance mechanisms remain fragile, easily diluted, and subject to withdrawal.

The demand for the Rohith Act surfaced repeatedly—reflecting a growing consensus that enforceable rights, not discretionary guidelines, are essential to address structural caste discrimination.

Violence, policing, and the price of naming caste

Even as students mobilised, reports of violence and intimidation surfaced from multiple campuses. As per reports, a BHU student allegedly being beaten by upper-caste peers for sharing a poster supporting the UGC protests in a WhatsApp group. At Allahabad University, students discussing equity regulations were reportedly attacked, with allegations pointing to ABVP-linked groups.

Most chilling was the Allahabad University episode itself: students allegedly assaulted, and one student arrested or warned for speech alone. If the use of the word “Brahminism”—a staple of academic critique—can invite police action, the boundary between maintaining order and enforcing ideological conformity has all but vanished.

For many protesters, these incidents crystallised the argument for equity regulations: without enforceable safeguards, marginalised students are left vulnerable not just to bureaucratic neglect, but to physical and legal harm.

चप्पा चप्पा गूंज उठेगा , जय भीम के नारों से pic.twitter.com/5eb3H59nXr

— Dr. Om Sudha (@dromsudhaa) February 4, 2026

This is shocking and absolutely unacceptable in university campuses. Students who were peacefully discussing equity regulations in University of Allahabad were reportedly beaten up by Brahmanical forces of ABVP. This is exactly why we need equity regulations. The safety of… pic.twitter.com/beFHX0xoSh

— Rehna Raveendran (@Rehna_AntiCaste) February 4, 2026

A BHU student was brutally beaten by upper-caste students simply for sharing a poster about the UGC protest in a WhatsApp group.

To stop this kind of hooliganism and violence on campuses, strong and enforceable UGC regulations are absolutely necessary.
pic.twitter.com/vUKPXjAjm1

— Harshita Narayani (@DearAspirant) February 4, 2026

Faculty Unease and the Limits of the Framework

Faculty responses have complicated the picture rather than resolved it. The JNUTA noted that the regulations fail to address the deep-rooted and systemic nature of discrimination. At protest gatherings, faculty speakers acknowledged these limitations—pointing to the absence of punitive provisions, excessive power vested in principals, and the exclusion of elite institutions like IITs and IIMs.

Yet the consensus among many educators was striking: even an imperfect framework represented a rare institutional acknowledgment that caste discrimination exists on campuses. To halt it before implementation was not correction—it was erasure.

Media silence, political quiet, and democratic erosion

A recurring concern across protests has been the muted response of large sections of the mainstream media and the conspicuous absence of sustained parliamentary debate. Students questioned how a nationwide mobilisation demanding discrimination-free campuses could unfold without political engagement at the highest levels.

When speech is criminalised, safeguards are stayed, and violence is normalised or ignored, trust in democratic institutions begins to fracture—not through apathy, but through lived experience.

देशभर में यूजीसी एक्ट के समर्थन में बहुजन छात्रों के प्रदर्शन हो रहे हैं, लेकिन मुख्यधारा का मीडिया चुप है। pic.twitter.com/Nqdq8CpJhd

— Hansraj Meena (@HansrajMeena) February 4, 2026

More Than a Regulation: A test of university democracy

As highlighted by the incidents above, the battle over the UGC Equity Regulations has outgrown the regulations themselves. It has become a test of whether universities will remain spaces of critique or instruments of control; whether caste can be named without punishment; and whether equality will be treated as a constitutional obligation or an administrative inconvenience.

When students are arrested for words, protections are suspended before they are tried, and dissent is met with force rather than reason, the crisis is no longer confined to campuses. It speaks to the health of the republic itself.

The question now confronting India’s universities is no longer about guidelines or committees. It is about whether democracy—messy, uncomfortable, and argumentative—still has a place in the classroom.

.Related:

Hate Speech Before the Supreme Court: From judicial activism to institutional closure

When Protest becomes a “Threat”: Inside the Supreme Court hearing on Sonam Wangchuk’s NSA detention

Another Campus, Another Death: Student suicides continue unabated across India

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

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

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Is this euphoria justified when we look at the interests of Indian farmers and workers? Seen together with a much criticised 2026 Union Budget by Farmers Unions and organisations. India is likely to witness more rounds of nationwide protests.

One,details of the agreement are not yet available. It is only when the full scope and details of the trade deal are available, one can make a proper assessment.

However, the announcement made by the US President Donald Trump on his
social media accounts indicate that Indian goods imports will face a 18 per cent tariff, while India reduces tariffs and non-tariff barriers on US goods to zero.

What does this one-sided deal mean? Eliminating tariffs will or may result in the flooding the country with US goods which will adversely affect industries and workers’ livelihoods. Removal of non-tariff barriers would mean eliminating subsidies and other measures, which protect and support Indian farmers.

Moreover. Trump has claimed that India has agreed to stop buying Russian oil and committed to buy $500 billion worth of US energy, technology and farm products. This, if true, shows up the highly unequal nature of the trade deal with India in a subordinate position, circumscribing its sovereignty.

Farmers unions, analysts and experts are now demanding that the government place the full trade agreement in the Parliament and in the public domain, so that there is a thorough discussion. Any harmful provisions must be rescinded to protect the interests of Indian industry, agriculture and working people.

Sharp Criticism of 2026 Union Budget, Agriculture Finds No Presence in the Union Budget by the All India Kisan Sanghatana (AIKS). Questioning the absence of any proposals for loan waivers and sharply criticising the reduction in fertilizer subsidy by Rs.15679 crores, the AIKS has called upon farmers to burn copies of the anti-farmer, anti-federal budget on February 3 across the country*

In a press note issued, AIKS states that, the Union Budget 2026-27 fails yet again to present any commitment towards the strategic regeneration of agriculture- the most crucial livelihood sector for the Indian people. Agriculture was largely ignored by the Finance Minister in her budget speech, small and marginal farmers were mentioned just once, while there was a conspicuous absence of any mention of rural labour. The budgetary figures echo this neglect.

According to the Economic Survey presented this week by the Union government, the average growth rate of agriculture in 2025 saw a fall. The growth rate registered in the previous quarter was 3.5 per cent, against the decadal average growth rate of 4.45 per cent.

Crop production witnessed the most drastic fall. Given this context of stagnation in the agriculture sector, it was expected that the Union Budget 2026-27 will deliver some relief and momentum. However, the Budget disappoints once again.

The total budget allocated to the Ministry of Agriculture and Farmers Welfare at about 1.40 Lakh Cr., is just a 5.3 per cent increase in nominal terms from the Revised Estimate 2025-26. Accounting for inflation, this implies that the real allocation to agriculture has not seen any substantial growth.

The Economic Survey also recognised that the yield rates of various crops including cereals, maize, soybean, and pulses continue to trail behind the global averages, making Indian production uneconomic.

However, according to the AIKS. The Budget fails in terms of providing any additional support to boost agriculture research and development.

Despite the Finance Minister mentioning enhancing agriculture productivity as a kartavya, the budgetary allocation to the Department of Agricultural Research and Education has been reduced from 10281 crores Revised Estimate (RE) 2025-26 to 9967 crores (BE 2026-27).

The rhetoric on investing in cash crops continued even in this year’s budget. The speech underlined a focus on coconut, cocoa, cashew, nuts, and sandalwood. However, in reality, missions such as Cotton Technology Mission, Mission on Pulses, Hybrid Seeds, and Makhana Board, introduced in the past, find no mention in the budgetary figures.

Talking of relief to farmers, the budget presents no remarkable proposal. The subsidy on fertilizers has seen a reduction from 186460 crores (RE 2025-26) to 170781 crores (BE 2025-26). Food subsidy has also seen a reduction from the revised estimates of previous year.

There was no mention of the MGNREGS scheme or even the newly passed VB-GRamG scheme in the budget speech, which indicates the total dismissal of the significance of rural employment.

VB-GRamG scheme has been allocated 95692 crores; however, this allocation is subject to the clause of 40 per cent mandatory state funding. 60 percent of the allocated budget under VBGRamG is 57,415 crores, which is drastically less than the 88000 crores allocated to MGNREGS under RE 2025-26. This means for the new scheme to function at the previous level, State governments have to bear the burden of 38,277 crores!

As per the economic review 2025-26, the number of states with surplus has been reduced from 19 in 2018-19 to 11 in 2023-24. The states are demanding 50% share of the divisible pool but the 16th Finance Commission has proposed 41% only. The state governments without financial autonomy will not be able to find adequate funds to support the employment guarantee scheme and even the average 47 days of employment under MGNREGS will not be available for the rural people this year under VB GRAMG Act. It is a gross assault on the rural workers and peasants as well as violation of the federal rights. This is not acceptable to the peasantry.

AIKS: The only major announcement concerning rural employment was the Mahatma Gandhi Gram Swaraj Yojana, promoting village industries; however, no significant financial allocations were made.

Among the Agriculture and Allied sectors, the only significant budgetary allocation has been made under Animal Husbandry and Dairying, from 5303 crores (RE 2025-26) to 6135 crores (BE 2026-27). However, here again the thrust has been on expansion of credit-infused veterinary hospitals, breeding in the private sector and garnering foreign investments.

The AIKS has called upon the farmers, rural workers and the people at large to strongly protest against the anti-farmer, anti-worker, anti-federal budget by burning copies in villages and tehsils on February 3, 2026 or any subsequent day. AIKS also appeals to all to ensure the General Strike on February 12 will be a great success and will reflect the anger against the anti-people Union Budget 2026-27.

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The post Indian Agriculture: Between the 2026 Union budget & US-India trade deal, a huge setback for Indian farmers appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The chief minister had held a meeting with the CEC today in Delhi over the issue of deleted names from draft electoral rolls during ongoing special intensive revision (SIR). She was accompanied by Trinamool Congress MPs and 12 voters from West Bengal – five of whom were declared dead and had their names deleted from the rolls. The delegation, including Banerjee, wore black shawls on as a mark of protest.

In November, she had asked the CEC to halt the SIR in the poll-bound state, claiming that the BLOs had not been provided adequate training, support or time.

“I have been involved in Delhi’s politics for a long period of time…But I have never seen such an Election Commissioner. He is extremely arrogant. He is a great liar. I said that I respect your chair. I said that no chair is permanent for anyone. One day, you too will have to go. Don’t create this precedent,” she said, addressing the media after the meeting.

She claimed that the EC was using artificial intelligence (AI) to remove names from the list and that was the reason behind the discrepancies. She also claimed that “only Bengalis” were being targeted.

Here are five things she said while speaking to the media:

1. ‘Why Bengalis?’

“Why are only Bengalis being targeted? In a democracy, elections are a festival,” Banerjee asked, claiming that 58 lakh voters had been removed from the rolls without being given a chance to defend themselves.

She further questioned why the SIR exercise was not being conducted in BJP-ruled states and was limited to opposition-ruled West Bengal, Tamil Nadu and Kerala. She said her party did not oppose SIR in principle, but it should not have been carried out in the hurried manner as it is being conducted.

“SIR didn’t happen in Assam since there is a BJP government. You didn’t carry out SIR in the north-eastern states. SIR happened in Bengal, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu. In BJP-ruled states, you will get the time to put everyone’s name on the voter list,” she said, alleging more mismatches and mismapping in the opposition states.

2. ‘Using AI’

The chief minister alleged that it was not the EC handling the revision but BJP IT cell, who were “using AI” to delete names from the rolls.

“Who is doing this using AI? It is nobody from the EC. It is being done by the BJP IT cell. Even when a murderer doesn’t get a lawyer and pleads to the judiciary to defend himself, he is allowed to do so. But, you removed 58 lakh voters in the very beginning through Seema Khanna (EC’s IT expert) and the use of AI,” she said.

She highlighted that in several cases of deleted names, the issue was that the English surname did not match with the Bengali surname.

“I write Mamata Banerjee in English. However, in Bengali, I write Mamata Bandhopadhyay. Chatterjee in English is Chattopadhyay in Bengali. In this way, it [the ECI] has removed all the names that it could not understand [as being the same],” she said.

“It is fine that duplicate voters have been removed. We also highlighted duplicate cases last year. That should have been rectified, and the names of genuine voters should have stayed,” she said.

3. Minorities affected, elderly hassled; BLOs died

She added that this was affecting women who have changed their surname after marriage, the young generation and minorities, including Muslims, SCs and STs.

Banerjee questioned why the documents listed for verification were not being allowed for SIR in Bengal. “In every state, domicile certificates, land certificates, Aadhaar cards, land records, and matriculation certificates are allowed. None of these documents are recognised in Bengal for the SIR process. People in Bengal are carrying trunks full of documents, yet they are put into the ‘not found’ category in terms of evidence,” she said.

She also raised the issue of elderly harassment, pointing out that the elderly people were “being taken to the hearing venue in ambulances”, “made to wait futilely for 8-10 hours before they are sent back”.

She also pointed out that institutional delivery was rare earlier that many people are unable to retrieve their parent’s birth certificates, etc.

“Ask your PM if he has his parents’ birth certificates. Could Atal ji have been able to provide his birth certificate had he been alive today? Ask Advani ji if he can provide the dates of birth of his parents,” she said, calling the SIR process “totally undemocratic and unparliamentary”

Raising the issue of BLO suicides, the chief minister claimed that the BLOs died as they were “threatened and terrified” by the officers.

Banerjee has previously also criticised the situation in which BLOs across West Bengal were reportedly working. Many have alleged they are being forced to distribute hundreds of forms daily, then digitally upload them despite repeated server failures and poor technical infrastructure.

4. ‘Will face consequences like Dhankhar’

Banerjee told the media that she told CEC Kumar that he will “also face consequences like Dhankhar”, for “working at the behest of the BJP”.

Notably, before becoming the vice president, Jagdeep Dhankhar, as West Bengal’s governor, was often embroiled in public spats with Banerjee and the TMC.

“You are not doing inclusion; you are doing deletion. After removing 58 lakh voters, you have planned to remove another 1.4 crore voters. That means you have put 2 crore voters under the mismatch and mismap category,” she alleged.

5.’Boycotting CEC, not elections’

The chief minister said that the party has “boycotted” Kumar because he “insulted and humiliated” them. She also alleged that the CEC did not respond to her letters, and also went against the Supreme Court judgement.

However, she said she will not “commit the mistake” of boycotting the elections.

“We will not boycott the elections. We will not commit this mistake. We will fight and win. They have captured our administration for the last six months. They are not letting us do any work. It’s just like President’s Rule. Bengal is being targeted. Till he [the CEC] is sitting on that chair, he is going to be a threat to the country.”

“My allegation is against only one person. I respect the chair. I said that I have faith in him, and that is why we came. But he is not ready to listen. He does whatever the BJP instructs him to do.”

Courtesy: The Wire

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