[Allahabad High Court judgement delivered on May 15, 2026]

“A group of dacoits clad only in undergarments allegedly carried out multiple robberies in Mustafabad and Sithauli villages [Uttar Pradesh]…Armed intruders reportedly scaled the wall of farmer Nizakat’s house in the early hours of Wednesday [May 20, 2026] and held his family hostage… When resisted, they assaulted the inmates, critically injuring six people…According to the police, the robbers beat women also for keeping a chicken dish at home, and told them to eat only vegetables.”

[The New Indian Express, May 21, 2026]

With RSS cadres in full control of the Indian State, June 2014 onward, the country has become a laboratory for a major dietary fabrication:  that vegetarianism is Sanatan to Hinduism. It is not that prior to Modi’s coming to power the concept did not exist, a substantial and powerful section of the ruling elite including Gandhi were vociferous believers in it. However, it was not a project for which Indian State worked vehemently.

The neo-zealots of vegetarian Hinduism argue that diet was not just nourishment for the body. It was a matter of spiritual realm which shaped “our thoughts, emotions, and karmic vibrations… The Vedas say, ‘Yad annam, tad manas’ which means ‘As is the food, so is the mind’ …Vegetarian food is considered sattvik-pure, calm, and balanced. It nurtures peace, compassion, and mental clarity. Non-vegetarian food, on the other hand, is tamasic- heavy, aggressive, and rooted in destruction. It dulls our spiritual perception and increases lower (read base) tendencies like anger, fear, and restlessness.”

[https://www.adityavastu.in/post/eating-non-veg-and-its-impact-on-karmikta]

With the beginning of Modi era, it became normal to ban sale and consumption of non-veg eatables for long periods during many religious festivals and many areas permanently declared out of bound for selling/consuming it. The issue of food was weaponized and both seller as well as consumers of non-veg cuisine were declared to be evil elements, a threat to Hinduism and society. Another sinister dimension added was that meat consumers were also attacked for indulging in beef-eating. There are countless incidents in public domain when non-veg consumers were attacked, lynched, their houses bulldozed, even burnt.

The zeal of RSS-BJP rulers in enforcing vegetarian Hinduism is to be seen and believed in dealing with foreign dignitaries. President of Russia Vladimir Putin visiting India in 2025 was chief guest at a lavish dinner thrown by India President on December 6, 2025) where only vegetarian cuisines were served. It was no different when EU delegation was State Guest on January 29, 2026, Seychelles President Patrick Herminie was chief guest at State dinner on February 9, 2026 and Vietnamese PM To Lam on May 6, 2026).

Only vegetarian menu of the banquet hosted by President Murmu for Seychelles President. For other dignitaries too it was only vegetarian menu with different dishes. As per a report in NDTV.

Across India, across educational institutions, businesses, railways and social-religious gatherings non-veg food has been banned. Debarshi Dasgupta (Strait Times, May 18, 2026) lamented the fact that in “Uttar Pradesh, a state also governed by the BJP, curated a list of local cuisines from each of its 75 districts and released it in May. It is a list that includes over 200 dishes, but, again, not a single one of them is meat-based. What makes this ludicrous is that more than half of the state’s population (53.6 per cent), according to a government survey, confirmed eating fish, chicken or other kinds of meat. It is also a state celebrated for its meat-based cuisines, particularly its capital, Lucknow, whose kebabs are legendary.”

Interestingly, the kebab “even found specific praise from the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO), when it added Lucknow to its ‘Cities of Gastronomy’ list in 2025. But when Minister of Culture and Tourism Gajendra Singh Shekhawat feted this decision on social media, he disingenuously used a poster of food items that were – no surprise here – entirely vegetarian”.

Pushpesh Pant, a renowned Indian academic and food historian as quoted by Dasgupta stated: “It is also a thinly disguised persecution of Muslims, many of whom are perceived to be butchers and vendors of meat and who supposedly are the beef-eaters.” As per a report in Asia News Network.

Varanasi Iftar-on-Boat Arrests

If we want to understand the gravity of weaponization against non-veg consumers and surrender of the State including judiciary, the case known as Varanasi Iftar-on-Boat Arrests needs to be taken note of. According to a detailed report by Shinjinee Majumdar in The Wire (March 27, 2026), the controversy started with a video of March 15 “in which 14 men — Azad Ali, Aamir Kaiki, Danish Saifi, Mohd. Ahmad, Nehal Afridi, Mahfooz Alam, Mohd. Anas, Mohd. Awwal, Mohd. Tahseem, Mohd. Ahmad alias Raja, Mohd. Noor Ismail, Mohd. Tausif Ahmad, Mohd. Faizan, and Mohd. Sameer — were seen breaking their Ramzan-month fast on a boat, allegedly consuming chicken biryani”.

The video was uploaded by one of the group members and soon went viral.  According to The Wire report: “A complaint filed on March 16 by Bharatiya Janata Yuva Morcha (BJYM)’s Varanasi president Rajat Jaiswal accused them of hurting religious sentiments by consuming non-vegetarian food on the river and disposing of waste into it. The police subsequently arrested 14 men under multiple charges, including hurting religious sentiments, public nuisance and polluting water. Days later, more serious charges — including extortion — were added, significantly raising the legal stakes.”

Jaiswal’s complaint on which Varanasi police took immediate action stated that eating non-veg while riding a boat at Ganga Mother was a grave sin. Moreover, after eating they washed their hands, dumping the waste, thus hurt the religious sentiments of Hindus.

The initial charges against the accused included: Section 298 BNS — Defiling a place of worship with intent to insult a religion, Section 299 BNS — Deliberate and malicious acts intended to outrage religious feelings, Section 196(1)(B) BNS — Promoting enmity between groups on religious grounds, Section 270 BNS — Public nuisance, Section 279 BNS — Fouling water of a public spring or reservoir, Section 223(B) BNS — Disobedience of an order by a public servant and Section 24, Water (Prevention and Control of Pollution) Act, 1974.

Later two more serious charges were added, Section 308(5) BNS — Extortion under threat of death or grievous hurt and Section 67, Information Technology Act — Publishing or transmitting obscene material (linked to the viral video).

With these additions, the potential punishment increased significantly — from a maximum of around six years (under the Water Act) to up to 10 years due to the extortion charge.

According to The Wire report, a Varanasi court had denied bail to the accused on March 23. They had earlier been remanded to 14 days of judicial custody on March 19, until April 1.

However, Allahabad High Court Single Bench of Justice of Rajiv Lochan Shukla granted bail with some conditions to the incarcerated Muslims on May 15. The Judge’s words in the judgement, however, amplified the majoritarian and politicized Hindutva construct of vegetarian Hinduism: “members of the Muslim community having a Roza Iftar party, and during the said Iftar party, while partaking of food, non-vegetarian food is said to have been consumed by the members of the Muslim community, who are then alleged to have thrown the remains into the River Ganges. This fact in the dispassionate opinion of the Court could rightly be said to hurt religious sentiments of the Hindu community.”

[]

The far right propaganda machine of “vegetarian Hinduism” is currently running amok in India belying contents of both scriptures and historical study.

Manusmriti for Meat-eating

According to Hindutva ideologue, VD Savarkar Manusmriti is the go-to scripture after the Vedas for Hindus.

[Savarkar, V.D., ‘Women in Manusmriti’ in Savarkar Samagar (collection of Savarkar’s writings in Hindi) volume IV, Prabhat, Delhi, 2000, p. 416.]

The Rashtriya Swayamsevak sangh, an organisation that is the organizational and ideological fountainhead of the present regime ruling India, made demands that it is the Manusmriti that needs must be declared as the Constitution of India—this at a time when the Indian Constituent Assembly was enacting the Constitution.

[Editorial, RSS English organ, Organiser, ‘The Constitution, November 30, 1949.]

This scripture –Manusmriti–that has been substantively critiqued by Dr BR Ambedkar among many other scholars– glorifies the eating of flesh as we will see in the following.

*That land where the black antelope naturally roams, one must know to be fit for the performance of sacrifices; (the tract) different from that (is) the country of the Mlechas. (II/23)

*[A Brahmin should not eat] food given without due respect, nor (that which contains) meat eaten for no sacred purpose, nor (that given) by a female who has no male (relatives), nor the food of an enemy, nor that (given) by the lord of a town, nor that (given) by outcasts, nor that on which anybody has sneezed. (IV/213);

*‘The consumption of meat (is befitting) for sacrifices,’ that is declared to be a rule made by the gods; but to persist (in using it) on other (occasions) is said to be a proceeding worthy of Rakshasas. (V/31)

*He who eats meat, when he honours the gods and manes, commits no sin, whether he has bought it, or himself has killed (the animal), or has received it as a present from others. (V/32)

*A twice-born man who knows the law, must not eat meat except in conformity with the law; for if he has eaten it unlawfully, he will, unable to save himself, be eaten after death by his (victims). (V/33)

*After death the guilt of one who slays deer for gain is not as (great) as that of him who eats meat for no (sacred) purpose. (V/34)

*But a man who, being duly engaged (to officiate or to dine at a sacred rite), refuses to eat meat, becomes after death an animal during twenty-one existences. (V/35)

*A Brahmana must never eat (the flesh of animals unhallowed by Mantras; but, obedient to the primeval law, he may eat it, consecrated with Vedic texts. (V/36)

*A twice-born man who, knowing the true meaning of the Veda, slays an animal for these purposes, causes both himself and the animal to enter a most blessed state. (V/42)

[This selection of Manu’s Codes is from F. Max Muller, Laws of Manu (Delhi: LP Publications, 1996; first published in 1886). The bracket after each code incorporates number of chapter/number of code according to the above edition.]

Kautilya’s Arthashastra and Meat-Eating

The Arthsastra of Kautilya (Chanakya) is the second go-to book of governance for RSS-BJP rulers and cadres. How dear this treatise is to them can be gauged by the fact that the Modi 3.0 government while organising the Sadhna Saptah (April 2-8, 2026) and Mission Karmayogi declared it to be a basic book  for training Indian administrators along with the Vedas.

Interestingly, the Arthsastra has 67 references decreeing flesh eating. The amazing part is that it has a specific chapter titled ‘Superintendent of Slaughter House’.

[R Shamasastry (trans), Kautilya’s Arthsastra, Mysore Printing and Publishing house,     Mysore, 1915, Pgs 149-53]

According to the rules of the slaughter house, “of beasts of prey that have been captured, the Superintendent shall take one-sixth; of fish and birds (of similar nature), he shall take one-tenth or more than one-tenth; and of deer and other beasts (mrigapasu), one-tenth or more than one-tenth as toll…(Butchers) shall sell fresh and boneless flesh of beasts (mrigapasu deer or wild animal) just killed. If they sell bony flesh, they shall give an equivalent compensation (pratipákam)” [P. 138].

There is no ban on slaughter of cows, however, “cattle such as a calf, a bull, or a milch cow shall not be slaughtered…The flesh of animals which have been killed outside the slaughter-house (parisúnam), headless, legless and boneless flesh, rotten flesh, and the flesh of animals which have suddenly died shall not be sold. Otherwise, a fine of 12 panas shall be imposed [Pgs. 138-39]”.

People are allowed to keep stock of dried flesh, skins, tendons (snáyu)…in such quantities as can be enjoyed for years together without feeling any want. Of such collection, old things shall be replaced by new ones when received. [P. 55]

Referring to different kinds of animals, Arthsastra decrees: “When an animal dies a natural death, they shall surrender the skin with the brand mark, if it is a cow or a buffalo; the skin together with the ear (karnalakshanam) if it is a goat or sheep; the tail with the skin containing the brand mark, if it is an ass or a camel; the skin, if it is a young one; besides the above, (they shall also restore) the fat (vasti), bile, marrow (snáyu), teeth, hoofs, horns, and bones. They (the cowherds) may sell either fresh flesh or dried flesh.” [P. 147]

Kautilya’s cities were not inhabited by vegetarian folks as we find that the chapter ‘Building within the Fort’ allots sites for flesh traders; “To the south, the superintendents of the city, of commerce, of manufactories, and of the army as well as those who trade in cooked rice, liquor, and flesh, besides prostitutes, musicians, and the people of Vaisya caste shall live.” [P. 54]

The chapter titled ‘Superintendent of Store-House’ [p. 101] assigns a duty of collecting taxes/recovery of past arrears to the superintendent from dealers of ‟Clarified butter, oil, serum of flesh, and pith or sap (of plants, etc.)…Dried fish, bulbous roots (kándamúla), fruits and vegetables form the group of edibles (sakavarga)”. [Pgs. 102-103]

The same chapter while dealing with the contents of each meal of an ARYA, low Castes, women and children states: “For dressing twenty palas of flesh, [1000 palas make one tula] half a kutumba of oil, one pala of salt, one pala of sugar (kshára), two dharanas of pungent substances (katuka, spices), and half a prastha of curd (will be necessary). For dressing greater quantities of flesh, the same ingredients can be proportionally increased. For cooking sákas (dried fish and vegetables), the above substances are to be added one and a half times as much. For dressing dried fish, the above ingredients are to be added twice as much.” [P. 105]

Under the head ‘Superintendent of Cows’ the boss has the authority of classifying “cattle as calves, steers, tamable ones, draught oxen, bulls that are to be trained to yoke, bulls kept for crossing cows, cattle that are fit only for the supply of flesh…” [P. 146] According to Chanakya, “When an animal dies a natural death, they shall surrender the skin with the brand mark, if it is a cow or a buffalo; the skin together with the ear (karnalakshanam) if it is a goat or sheep; the tail with the skin containing the brand mark, if it is an ass or a camel; the skin, if it is a young one; besides the above, (they shall also restore) the fat (vasti), bile, marrow (snáyu), teeth, hoofs, horns, and bones. They (the cowherds) may sell either fresh flesh or dried flesh.” [P. 147]

It may be shocking for many animal lovers that the feed for bulls apart from including grass one tulá (100 palas) of oil cakes, 10 ádhakas of bran, 5 palas of salt (mukhalavanam), one kudumba of oil for rubbing over the nose (nasya), 1 prastha of drink (pána) added one tulá of flesh in the daily diet. [P. 148] Daily diet for horse included “50 palas of flesh”. [P. 150]

Likewise, the rations for an elephant (of a specific height) includes “50 palas of flesh” and elephant, watchmen, sweepers, cooks and others shall receive apart from cooked rice, a handful of oil, sugar and salt 10 palas of flesh. [Pgs. 155-158]

The chapter dealing with ‘Remedies against National Calamities’ prescribes a non-vegetarian remedy by stating “Persons acquainted with the rituals of the Atharvaveda, and experts in sacred magic and mysticism shall perform such ceremonials as ward off the danger from demons. On full-moon days the worship of Chaityas may be performed by placing on a verandah offerings such as an umbrella, the picture of an arm, a flag, and some goat’s flesh”. [P. 239]

The Arthashastra makes it clear that tax was collected on flesh. “They (the king’s employees) may demand of cultivators one-fourth of their grain, and one-sixth of forest produce (vanya) and of such commodities as cotton, wax, fabrics, barks of trees, hemp, wool, silk, medicines, sandal, flowers, fruits, vegetables, firewood, bamboos, flesh, and dried flesh.” [P. 274]

The animal flesh/serum was used as medicines/remedies also. “When the body of a man is smeared over with the serum of the flesh of a frog, it burns with fire (with no hurt)…When the body of a man is smeared over with the above serum as well as with the oil extracted from the fruits of kusa (ficus religiosa), and ámra (mango tree), and when the powder prepared from an ocean frog (samdura mandúki), phenaka (sea-foam), and sarjarasa (the juice of vatica robusta) is sprinkled over the body, it burns with fire (without being hurt). When the body of a man is smeared over with sesamum oil mixed with equal quantities of the serum of the flesh of a frog, crab, and other animals, it can burn with fire (without hurt)…paste prepared from the roots of páribhadraka (erythrina indica), pratibala , vanjula (a kind of ratan or tree), vajra (andropogon muricatum or euphorbia), and kadali (banana), mixed with the serum of the flesh of a frog, can walk over fire (without hurt). Oil should be extracted from the paste prepared from the roots of pratibala, vanjula and páribhadraka, all growing near water, the paste being mixed with the serum of the flesh of a frog. Having anointed one’s legs with this oil, one can walk over a white-hot mass of fire as though on a bed of roses. The paste prepared from the powder of the rib-bone of náraka (?), a donkey, kanka (a kind of vulture), and bhása (a bird), mixed with the juice of water-lily, is applied to the legs of bipeds and quadrupeds (while making a journey). The fat or serum derived from roasting a pregnant camel together with saptaparna (lechites scholaris) or from roasting dead children in cremation grounds, is applied to render a journey of a hundred yojanas easy. [Pgs. 458-60.]

Restrictions

“King should prohibit the slaughter of animals for half a month during the period of Cháturmásya (from July to September), for four nights during the full moon, and for a night on the day of the birth-star of the conqueror or of the national star. He should also prohibit the slaughter of females and young ones (yonibálavadham) as well as castration. Having abolished those customs or transactions which he might consider either as injurious to the growth of his revenue and army or as unrighteous, he should establish righteous transactions.” [P. 449.]

Beef Eating Essential for Brahmins in ancient (early) India

Swami Vivekananda, regarded as a philosopher of Hindutva by the RSS, while addressing a meeting at the Shakespeare Club, Pasadena, California, USA (February 2, 1900) on the theme of ‘Buddhistic India’, declared:

“You will be astonished if I tell you that, according to old ceremonials, he is not a good Hindu who does not eat beef. On certain occasions he must sacrifice a bull and eat it.”

[Vivekananda, The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda, vol. 3 (Calcutta: Advaita Ashram, 1997), P. 536.]

He further stated that without eating beef, “no Brahmin could remain a Brahmin; you read in the Vedas how, when a Sannyasin [a Hindu religious mendicant], a king, or a great man came into house, the best bullock was killed…” [Ibid., P. 174.]

This is corroborated by other research works sponsored by the Ramakrishna Mission established by Vivekananda. According to C. Kunhan Raja, a prominent authority on the history and culture of the Vedic period:

“The Vedic Aryans, including the Brahmanas, ate fish, meat and even beef. A distinguished guest was honoured with beef served at a meal. Although the Vedic Aryans ate beef, milch cows were not killed. One of the words that designated cow was aghnya (what shall not be killed). But a guest was a goghna (one for whom a cow is killed). It is only bulls, barren cows and calves that were killed.”

[Raja, C. Kunhan, Vedic Culture‟, cited in the series, Suniti Kumar Chatterji and others (eds.), The Cultural Heritage of India, vol. 1 (Calcutta: The Ramakrishna Mission, 1993), P. 217.]

Kunhan Raja countering the myth of vegetarian Hinduism stated:

“The Grhya Sutras prescribe different kinds of meat to be given to be given to children at the first feeding ceremony, for different results. Mutton, flesh of different kinds of birds, and other forms of meat were freely eaten by the higher Castes in those days, and still they were the most spiritual nation in the world.” [Ibid.]

One of the greatest researchers, scholar and an authority on Indian politics, religions and culture Dr. BR Ambedkar produced a brilliant essay on the subject titled ‘Did the Hindus Never Eat Beef?’

All those who are really interested in understanding the ‘Hindu Past’ must read this monumental work of Dr. Ambedkar. After studying a large number of Vedic and Hindu scriptures, he arrived at the conclusion that,

“when the learned Brahmins argue that the Hindus not only never ate beef but they always held the cow to be sacred and were always opposed to the killing of the cow, it is impossible to accept their view”.

[Ambedkar, B. R., ‘Did the Hindus never eat beef?’ in The Untouchables: Who Were They and Why They Became Untouchables? in Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Writings and Speeches, vol. 7, (Government of Maharashtra, Bombay, 1990, first edition 1948) Pgs 323-328.]

Also see the scholarly work by Professor DN Jha, The Myth of the Holy Cow, link: https://archive.org/details/TheMythOfHolyCowJha]

Interestingly, the findings of Ambedkar were that cows were sacrificed and beef consumed because COWS were HOLY.

According to Ambedkar:

“It was not that the cow was not sacred in Vedic times, it was because of her sacredness that it is ordained in the Vajasaneyi Samhita that beef should be eaten.” (Dharma Shastra Vichar in Marathi, Pg. 180). That the Aryans of the Rig Veda did kill cows for purposes of food and ate beef is abundantly clear from the Rig Veda itself. In Rig Veda (X. 86.14) Indra says: ‘They cook for one 15 plus twenty oxen’. The Rig Veda (X.91.14) says that for Agni were sacrificed horses, bulls, oxen, barren cows and rams. From the Rig Veda (X.72.6) it appears that the cow was killed with a sword or axe.”

Ambedkar concluded this essay with the following words:

“With this evidence no one can doubt that there was a time when Hindus, both Brahmins and non-Brahmins, ate not only flesh but also beef.”

[Ibid., Pgs 323-328.]

Anandmath: Sanatan/Hindu Sena consuming flesh

Bankim Chandra Chatterjee is also a Rishi (Holy Teacher) for the RSS-BJP combine. This writer’s otherwise his pro-British novel, Anandmath, is another important (read holy) treatise for votaries of Hindu nationalism. A leader of Santan or Hindu army, Jivananda comes to visit her sister, Nimi who serves him, “some clean, jasmine-white rice, some tasteful dal, a curry of wild figs, some fish netted  [sic] from her own tank and some milk”.

[Sen-Gupta, Nares Chandra (translator Bankim Chandra Chatterjee’s Anandamath), Abbey of Bliss, Padmini Mohan Neogi, Calcutta, P. 65.]

India as a global beef exporter/powerhouse under Modi

India has quietly emerged as global beef powerhouse. The country now ranks as the world’s second-largest beef exporter earning nearly 3.8 billion dollars or around 34,177 crore rupees worth of this meat, annually. Uttar Pradesh, Maharashtra,, and Andhra Pradesh account for the bulk of these exports with Uttar Pradesh alone contributing nearly 60% of India’s beef shipments.”

[“India Becomes World’s Second-Largest Beef Exporter Amid Cow Vigilante            Violence”, Jan 02, 2026, https://www.deshabhimani.com/deshabhimani-english -/national-76192/india-beef-exports-cow-vigilante-violence-48452]

Fisheries export

Vegetarian India is making great strides in exporting seafood too, to the world.

According to a Government of India (GOI) press release dated April 3, 2026

“India’s seafood exports have recorded strong and sustained growth, expanding at an average annual rate of 7% over the past 11 years. Marine product exports have more than doubled during the period, rising from ₹30,213 crore in 2013‑14 to ₹62,408 crore in 2024‑25, driven largely by shrimp exports valued at ₹43,334 crore. India’s seafood exports span a wide and diversified basket, with over 350 varieties of products shipped to nearly 130 global markets.” [https://www.pib.gov.in/PressReleasePage.aspx?PRID=2248721&reg=3&lang=1]

Unholy use of the waters of the Holy Ganga

Hindutva’s claim vis a vis Holy Mother Ganga must be taken not just with a pinch, but fistfuls of salt. According to Government of India data Ganga water is supplied to Delhi, Patna, Rajgir, Gaya, Bodhgaya, Bhagalpur, and Nawada (Bihar), Kanpur, Allahabad, Varanasi and several cities in Western UP, Haridwar (Uttarakhand), and Kolkata (West Bengal). This supply is not for fulfilling some religious duties but for all kinds of cleaning, washing and sanitary purposes.

How is this tolerated? Is it not high time for the courts to intervene?

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author’s personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of Sabrangindia.

Related:

Rewriting NCERT school textbooks: ‘Muslim Raj’ is a mere excuse, the project is to conceal historical facts

Unity not Hate: Commemorating the 168th anniversary of 1857 War of Independence

How Hindutva forces colluded with both the British & Jinnah against the historic ‘Quit India’ movement: Archives

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Just two days ago, the High Court quashed a petition seeking permission to re-conduct the Neja Mela in Sambhal, held in memory of Ghazi Mian, directing the petitioner instead to approach a lower court.[1] Notably, the very need to seek such permission did not arise from any explicit judicial ban, but rather from a discretionary determination by state authorities deeming the event “impermissible.”

Uttar Pradesh has long been home to such heterodox sects who made their presence felt across the hinterland, away from the metropolis dominated by traditional religious authority. Similar to Sufis of Maghreb their proponents often came from both communities —Rajputs in Hindus, Afghans, Syeds and Arabs among Muslims— who were primarily military adventurers as described by Christopher Bayly in his magnum opus Rulers, Townsmen and Bazaars. Engaging in agricultural administration and military occupations simultaneously these members of the landed class found themselves dwelling on socio-spiritual questions while living among the common peasantry compared to established, orthodox religious life.

The Syncretic Cult of Ghazi Miyan 

Originally venerated by pastoral communities across the Indo-Gangetic plain, the cult of Ghazi Miyan is tied to the lore of a horse-riding warlord—comparable in some respects to the Rajput Panch-Pir traditions of Rajasthan—believed to have arrived from the west and to have long-standing associations with cattle-rearing groups, particularly Ahīrs. Local tradition holds that when he laid claim to the area around Suraj Kund in Bahraich as his base, he encountered resistance from a regional chieftain.

According to legend, in the ensuing conflict he initially refrained from attacking cattle, and was eventually ‘martyred’ by a local Rajput chief identified as Suhel Dev. As Shahid Amin argues in Conquest and Community: The Afterlife of Saint Ghazi Miyan, the story of Ghazi Miyan represents a layered narrative shaped through repeated retellings—rooted in the idiom of the warrior-saint tradition and embedded within a local sacred geography marked by symbols such as the Mahua tree and betel leaf, both predominantly associated with Hindu cultural practices. In this sense, the myth reflects a shared, non-sectarian history of conflict, accommodation, and social realities rather than a rigidly communal past.

Besides the objections of Ulema, earlier one such attempt is credited to Sikanadar Lodi (Uttar Taimur Kaleen Bharat, S.A.A. Rizvi) who banned the procession of spears, citing orthodoxy. However, opposed to attempts post-1870s, the strategy changed to ‘nationalist’ social engineering post 1920s, which saw the valorisation of Suheldev. Evidently, contrary to claims of extremism, the tradition of Neja Mela (where Muslims replace the flag atop the pole of shape of the Neja i.e. spear) in Sambhal is no different than Zohra Bibi-Ghazi Miyan ka Mela, celebrated in Bahraich in the memory of their aborted marriage before which he was ‘martyred’.

Shivnarayanis 

In contrast to the more visible syncretic cults—many of which have been subjected to reinterpretation within Hindutva frameworks due to their prominence in public discourse—there exist other syncretic traditions in Uttar Pradesh that have largely evaded such interventions. The Shivnarayani, which is one such tradition, is a sect from eastern Uttar Pradesh with a history spanning nearly three centuries. Founded by Shivnarayan Singh—born in 1686 into a Narauni (Pratihara) Rajput family in Ballia—the tradition articulated what he called Sant Mat (the “creed of the Saints”), with individual adherents known as Sants. As his 10th direct descendant and head of the Panth, Jagatguru Amarjeet Singh explains, Santpati signifies that anyone who truly lives the path of ultimate truth can be considered a Sant. Rejecting the corruptibility of fixed hierarchies and institutional authority, Shivnarayan emphasized a deliberately non-ritualistic framework—eschewing temples and idols in favour of temporary chauris, often structured in seven steps symbolizing both the seven chakras and the seven heavens.

The sect’s founding narrative is tied to the Mughal emperor Muhammad Shah Rangila, who is said to have summoned Bagh Rai, Shivnarayan’s father, to Delhi over unpaid dues during a famine. Shivnarayan accompanied him to the imperial court around 1732. According to tradition, while imprisoned, news of his spiritual powers reached the emperor, who tested him by killing a cow and challenging him to restore it to life. The episode, as narrated within the sect, culminates not merely in a miracle but in a moral transformation: Shivnarayan compels the emperor to confront the futility of senseless violence, leading to a change of heart and his initiation into the fold. The enduring legacy of this encounter is reflected in the continued presence of Muslims as chharidars (ceremonial guards) for the head of the panth and its monastic institutions—an institutionalized symbol of the sect’s syncretic ethos.

Drawing upon his own feudal background—where the Naraunis had historically controlled clusters of villages under the ṭappas of Sukhpura, Bansdih, and Kharauni—Shivnarayan was uniquely positioned to challenge Brahminical orthodoxy. He is credited with opening the doors of organized religious practice, albeit stripped of conventional ritualism, and embedding within it a strong message of social equality. This appeal resonated particularly among marginalized communities, including Dalits, across eastern Uttar Pradesh, and later spread to regions such as Bihar, Nepal, Uttarakhand, Malwa, and Punjab.

Although the number of adherents and initiated Sants has declined over time, the sect’s message continues to find expression in its distinctive funerary practices: when a Sant departs for Nij Dham, the body is interred rather than cremated, accompanied by Bhojpuri verses from Sant Vilas. Such practices underscore a worldview that resists rigid religious binaries. As thinkers like Gail Omvedt have noted, the imposition of doctrinal divisions since early modernity has largely emanated from centres of power, while among marginalized communities, traditions emphasizing harmony over conflict, cooperation over coercion, and faith as a means of transcendence have remained more deeply rooted. This ethos finds parallels in imagined sacred spaces such as Anandpur associated with Guru Nanak, Begampura envisioned by Kabir, and Sant Lok articulated within the Shivnarayani tradition.

Arya Samaj’s war on syncretic beliefs

Influenced by a Protestant-inflected model of spiritual morality—marked by defined theology, rigid religious boundaries, hierarchical authority, and codified norms—alongside the transformative effects of print capitalism, 19th-century revivalist movements began to cast a suspicious eye on syncretic traditions. Reformist currents, particularly those associated with the Arya Samaj, as well as strands of both Hindu and Muslim orthodoxy, increasingly dismissed such blended practices with derision, often labelling them disparagingly as khichri. Emerging from metropolitan centres and gaining traction among the educated urban middle classes, these reformist voices promoted a Sanskritic, text-centred epistemology—albeit not without contesting traditional authorities—and advanced a more congregational, collectivist religious identity. This marked a departure from the diffuse, practice-based, and often individualized nature of older Hindu traditions, especially those shaped by karmic doctrine.

By the early 20th century, many of some reformist actors—especially those linked to the Arya Samaj—had entered the arena of electoral politics, positioning themselves as agents of reason and enlightenment within formations like the Indian National Congress, while simultaneously fuelling a parallel reformist zeal within right-leaning organisations. This ideological convergence across the political spectrum became particularly visible in events such as the 1950 fair commemorating Suheldev, organised by the Arya Samaj, and inaugurated by Congress leaders—despite the backdrop of communal unrest and the imposition of Section 144.

Khwaja of the Thakurs

Folk traditions of indebtedness often stem from simple ancestral memories. As noted by Sharique Ahmad Khan, the Bais Rajputs of Azamgarh trace one such episode to Khwaja Minhaj, a Mughal officer, who rescued a wounded man—Mainpar Dev—from a well after he had been left for dead. Dev later rose in Minhaj’s service, and upon the latter’s death, inherited his estate and built his tomb, giving rise to the name Minhajpur (Mehnajpur).

In a lasting mark of gratitude, Bais Rajputs adopted the Muslim style of tying the mirzai to the right, protected local Muslim communities, and continue to contribute to the annual urs at the shrine.

Conclusion 

While presenting itself as reformist, Hindutva remains tethered to a Brahminical cosmopolis. Even as it challenges ritual hierarchies and orthodox authority, it consistently targets syncretic traditions that unsettle its rigid binaries.

Across the Indo-Gangetic plain, however, long-standing, symbiotic belief systems—rooted in marginalised communities and distant from metropolitan influence—have persisted outside the frameworks of both organized religion and modern ideological constructs. Often overlooked or suppressed, these traditions continue to embody and transmit a lived ethos of interfaith and intercultural harmony. 

(The author is a post graduate scholar, a MA in History, specialising in medieval and pre-modern History from University of Delhi. His interests include heritage research, social and environmental histories)

[1] https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/meerut/sambhal-cops-deny-permission-for-historic-neja-mela-commemorating-plunderer-ghaznavis-commander/articleshow/119125961.cms; Note the contradictory even provocative headline in Times of India, on the one hand calling the Neja Mela “historic” and on the other hand almost legitimising the terms used by hardline objectors, “..commemorating plunderer Ghaznavis”!!

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Rajasthan: Gogamedi, a Rajput-Muslim shrine and the politics of communal capture

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Rather than emerging organically from local and lived religious practice, it sought to recast a historically plural, socially embedded river into a singular sacred geography, flattening its layered cultural, ecological and political meanings into a uniform religious spectacle.

The analogy with the Kumbh Mela is particularly revealing. In North India, the Kumbh is anchored in centuries-old institutional frameworks involving akharas, monastic orders, ritual calendars and cosmological cycles that have evolved through long-standing social consent. Bharatapuzha, by contrast, has never functioned as a Pan-Hindu pilgrimage centre. It has no historical association with mass ritual bathing, no priestly networks that regulate sacred time, and no inherited mythological mandate that binds the river to cyclical purification rites. The invocation of “Magha” rituals, the language of sin, cleansing and rebirth, and the visual grammar of saffron spectacle are recent insertions, introduced through publicity materials, digital campaigns and political speeches rather than through inherited community practice. What is being staged is not continuity but construction.

The presence of constitutional authority at the inauguration was therefore not incidental. It conferred institutional legitimacy on an invented ritual format, transforming a curated spectacle into an authorised public act, much as Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s inauguration of the newly constructed Ram Mandir in Ayodhya did. In Kerala, where religious expression has historically coexisted with strong secular institutions, such gestures alter the delicate balance between faith and governance. State endorsement converts cultural experimentation into an assertion of civilisational authenticity. The river becomes not merely a site of gathering but a stage on which new claims to cultural ownership are rehearsed and normalised.

Attempts to anchor the Mahotsavam in history frequently invoke Mamankam, the medieval assembly held periodically near the Bharatapuzha. Yet this historical analogy collapses under scrutiny. Mamankam bore little resemblance to the religious spectacle being staged today. It was neither a Hindu religious congregation nor a ritualised conflict between faiths. It was a political assembly centred on sovereignty, territorial control and the public contestation of kingship. Held once every twelve years, Mamankam was the site where the Zamorin of Calicut asserted his authority even as it was violently challenged by the Valluvanad rulers through the Chaver warriors. These warriors, drawn from specific lineages, attempted ritualised assassinations of the Zamorin, transforming the assembly into a theatre of political resistance. The purpose was not spiritual sacrifice but the destabilisation of power.

Equally central to Mamankam was its plural social composition. Muslim traders, soldiers and administrators were integral to the Zamorin’s political and economic base. Calicut’s emergence as a maritime hub depended on sustained alliances with Arab merchants, and these relationships were embedded in the very structure of power that Mamankam symbolised. To retrospectively frame Mamankam as a Hindu cultural ritual is to erase these realities and impose a communal lens that did not exist in the historical moment. Mamankam was not organised around ritual bathing, mantra recitation or priestly hierarchies. Its rituals were inseparable from warfare, trade negotiations, artistic performances and displays of military prowess.

Thus, translating Mamankam into the idiom of the Kumbh Mela strips away its political and plural character, replacing it with a homogenised religious narrative that is easier to mobilise but historically indefensible.

What distinguishes the Maha Magha Mahotsavam from earlier cultural events in Kerala is the scale and sophistication of its digital mobilisation. Social media platforms have been used not merely to publicise the festival but to frame it as a corrective to an alleged cultural suppression of Hindus in the state. This rhetoric borrows heavily from the national Hindutva lexicon, where visibility is equated with revival and dissent is recast as hostility to faith. Online narratives repeatedly position Malappuram district as a site of cultural imbalance, invoking its Muslim-majority demography to suggest that Hindu traditions require assertive reclamation. This portrayal is not new. Malappuram has long been marked in political discourse as an exception within Kerala, often detached from its historical contributions to trade, education and anti-colonial resistance. By situating a major “Hindu” event at the district’s symbolic edge, the festival implicitly marks territory.

On the ground, this rhetoric has tangible consequences. Local accounts point to heightened communal sensitivity, with Muslim residents expressing discomfort at the language used in promotional material and commentary. Pluralism is not attacked directly; it is simply bypassed. The idea of a “Hindu awakening” advanced here does not celebrate Kerala’s syncretic traditions but seeks to replace them with a uniform cultural script. In doing so, it narrows the definition of belonging and reimagines public space as an arena of assertion rather than coexistence.

Beyond ideology, the Mahotsavam raises pressing questions about environmental stewardship and public safety. Bharatapuzha is among Kerala’s most endangered rivers, its flow depleted by dams, sand mining and encroachment. Large-scale gatherings on its banks inevitably place additional stress on an already fragile ecosystem. The controversy surrounding the proposed temporary bridge illustrates the tension between spectacle and regulation. The stop memo was issued on procedural and safety grounds, including the absence of clearances and concerns over construction in a sensitive river zone. Yet sections of social media discourse reframed this administrative action as a cultural or communal slight, despite no such intent or basis in official orders. This episode highlights a deeper challenge for Kerala: how routine governance decisions are increasingly vulnerable to politicisation when wrapped in the language of faith.

Further, stampedes at religious events have demonstrated how inadequate crowd management, infrastructural shortcuts and political pressure to maximise attendance can result in tragedy. Kerala’s administrative machinery has limited experience managing events of this scale, particularly in ecologically sensitive zones. There is also the question of precedent.

Once a river is reimagined as a ritual bathing site, pressure mounts to repeat and expand such events. Environmental damage then becomes cumulative, justified in the name of a tradition that did not previously exist.

Organisers describe the Maha Magha Mahotsavam not as a culmination but as a beginning, frequently invoking 2028 as the moment when the initiative will reach its full symbolic and participatory scale. This long-term vision underscores the political nature of the project. Cultural transformation is not achieved through singular events but through repetition and institutional backing that generate familiarity; familiarity hardens into memory, and memory eventually masquerades as antiquity. This is how invented traditions become heritage.

Kerala’s historical strength has been its resistance to such flattening. Its public culture has accommodated religious expression without allowing any single narrative to monopolise history or space. The remaking of Bharatapuzha challenges this equilibrium by privileging one interpretation of the past while marginalising others. What is at stake is not merely the character of a festival but the future grammar of Kerala’s public life. Whether history is engaged as a complex inheritance or reduced to a tool of mobilisation depends on how society responds now.

Supporters present the Mahotsavam as spiritual renewal and a gateway to religious tourism, promising economic visibility and regional development. These claims cannot be dismissed outright. Kerala has long benefited from cultural tourism, and pilgrimage economies can generate livelihoods. Yet spiritual tourism is never purely economic. It reorganises space, privileges certain narratives and fixes meaning in ways that are difficult to reverse. When rituals are newly assembled rather than inherited, tourism risks converting memory into spectacle and communities into bystanders to a story told about them rather than with them.

What is unfolding along the Bharatapuzha is not a disagreement over faith but a struggle over authority: who defines culture, how memory is institutionalised, and which identities are permitted to feel native in shared spaces.

The Maha Magha Mahotsavam marks a shift from lived tradition to curated symbolism, where culture becomes less an expression of social life and more a claim to power. In this transformation, history is not engaged as complexity but recruited as an instrument.

The costs are cumulative. Socially, curated spirituality narrows belonging and renders dissent suspect. Environmentally, rivers turned into ritual stages are subjected to pressures that sanctity cannot mitigate. Historically, selective storytelling flattens the past, replacing layered inheritance with simplified images designed for mobilisation. What is lost is not only accuracy but the ethical discipline of living with contradiction.

Kerala’s pluralism was never ornamental. It was forged through negotiation, overlap and unresolved differences. The remaking of Bharatapuzha tests whether that inheritance will endure or yield to a politics that prefers clarity over truth. Culture can evolve, and tourism can coexist with tradition, but only when history remains a conversation rather than a commodity, and public space remains a site of coexistence rather than conquest.

(The author is an Indian author, political analyst and columnist. His debut book, The Essential (2023), was launched by Dr. Shashi Tharoor and features a foreword by former External Affairs Minister Salman Khurshid. His research and commentary have appeared in IJPA, Global Policy Journal, South Asian Voices, ORF, The Unpopulist, SAGE, among others, and leading dailies.He posts on ‘X’ at @ens_socialis)

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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

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Located in the Hanumangarh district of northern Rajasthan, near the fringes of the Thar Desert, Gogamedi is not merely a pilgrimage site but a living archive of north-western India’s syncretic past. The shrine, popularly known as Gogamedi, is dedicated to Gogaji Chauhan, also revered as Jaharveer Gogga, a 11^th century medieval Rajput warrior-saint whose veneration cuts across religious boundaries. For centuries, Gogamedi has drawn Hindu and Muslim devotees alike—peasants, pastoralists, warriors, and traders—making it one of the rare sacred spaces in Rajasthan where religious identity has historically been secondary to lineage, memory, and shared devotion.

It is precisely this inclusive character that has recently come under strain. On January 26 this year, Riddhima Sharma, a Jaipur-based social media influencer, visited Gogamedi and posted videos and statements that were widely perceived as communal and inflammatory. Circulated extensively on social media, the content appeared to question the legitimacy of Muslim participation at the shrine and deployed a language of exclusion alien to Gogamedi’s lived traditions. The episode led to public confrontations at the site and drew condemnation from local devotees and Rajput organisations like Kshatriya Parishad , who accused Sharma of attempting to communalise a shrine historically rooted in Hindu–Muslim coexistence.

What unfolded at Gogamedi was not an isolated provocation by an individual influencer. It was symptomatic of a broader political project—one that seeks to recast shared folk shrines into narrowly defined, Brahminical Hindu spaces, erasing inconvenient histories and displacing long-standing custodial communities. Gogamedi, with its Rajput genealogy and Muslim priesthood, stands as a stubborn obstacle to this project. Hindutva, the political project that this country is under siege currently from, is both Brahmanical and exclusivist.

Gogamedi, Gogaji Chauhan, and the Rajput Custodianship of a Shared Cult

Gogaji Chauhan, also known as Jaharveer Gogga, occupies a distinctive place in north-western India’s folk-historical memory.

To understand why Gogamedi resists easy communal categorisation, one must return to the figure of Gogaji Chauhan himself. Remembered in bardic traditions, oral epics, and folk memory as a protector of pastoralists and farmers, Gogaji was a Chauhan Rajput chief of Jangaldesh or Dadarewa (present-day Churu district) and a contemporary of Mahmud of Ghazni as per historians like Dasarath Sharma, RC Temple and sources like Kayamkhan Raso and Jain text Shrawak-Viatudi-Atichar. These historical references tell us that he was a feudal under the Imperial Chauhans of Rajasthan and the region he ruled, from Fazilka in Haryana to Dadrewa in Churu was called Chayalwara, after the Chauhan subclan – Chayal, to which he belonged.

During the era of Firoz Shah Tughlaq, many Chayal chiefs embraced Islam under the influence of Sufis, one of which was Dadrewa’s Raja Karamchand Chauhan, who became Kayamkhan. His and his brother’s descendants, collectively called Kayamkhanis, have produced excellent soldiers to this day, including many who have been awarded Vir Chakras and Sena Medals. The cities of Jhunjhunu and Fatehpur (near Sikar) were founded by Nawab Mohammad Khan and Nawab Fateh Khan – both Kayamkhani rulers.

Hence, unlike Sanskritic deities absorbed into Brahminical ritual hierarchies, Gogaji belongs to the world of historical figures turned folk hero-saints—figures whose authority emerged from martial ethics, local sovereignty, and popular reverence rather than scriptural sanction.

A crucial, often deliberately obscured fact is that the chief priests of Gogamedi have historically been Muslim Rajputs of the Chayal (Chauhan) lineage, regarded as descendants of Gogaji himself. Their presence is not a later “accommodation” but intrinsic to the shrine’s history. In Rajasthan’s folk religious landscape, lineage frequently outweighs doctrinal religion, and Gogamedi exemplifies this logic. The priesthood here is hereditary, tied to blood and ancestry rather than to Brahminical ritual qualifications.

Gogamedi is also part of a wider constellation of shrines associated with the five Panchpirs of Rajasthan, all of whom are remembered in regional tradition as Rajput warrior-saints – some of them are Pabuji Rathore, Mehaji Mangliya, Ramdevji Tomar and Harbuji Sankhla. In each of these shrines, custodianship has historically remained with the saint’s own descendants, irrespective of whether they identify today as Hindu or Muslim. This pattern unsettles modern communal frameworks but makes perfect sense within the pre-colonial social world of the region.

Far from being a marginal or neglected site, Gogamedi has repeatedly served as a space of political and social convergence. In June 2025, the town hosted a meeting attended by members of BAMCEF (an Ambedkarite organization) and its Rajput offshoot-wing KMM, with participation from both Hindu and Muslim Rajputs. These gatherings underscored Gogamedi’s continuing role as a node of Rajput solidarity cutting across religious lines—an aspect rarely acknowledged in mainstream narratives.

The shrine’s inclusive ethos was also formally recognised by the princely state. In 1911, Maharaja Ganga Singh Rathore of Bikaner undertook the renovation of the Gogamedi complex. Importantly, this was a vital act of historical preservation. Ganga Singh ensured that the Muslim priests of Chayal Chauhan ancestry were accorded due respect by Hindu devotees, granted state patronage, and paid for their maintenance as descendants of Gogaji Chauhan. The Bikaner ruler’s intervention reinforced the shrine’s syncretic and Rajput-centric character.

Gogamedi, therefore, is not simply a symbol of abstract Hindu–Muslim harmony. It occupies a unique socio-political position, binding Hindu Rajputs and Muslim Rajputs—particularly Kayamkhanis—into a shared sacred and historical universe. Any attempt to communalise the shrine necessarily threatens this fragile but enduring bond.

Influencer Politics, Brahminical Assertion, and the Targeting of a Rajput Shrine

Against this historical backdrop, the actions of Riddhima Sharma acquire a sharper political meaning. Sharma is not a local devotee shaped by Gogamedi’s traditions but a Brahmin influencer from Jaipur, whose social media persona is built around performative religiosity and viral provocation. Her intervention at Gogamedi was not an innocent act of devotion but an intrusion into a space structurally and historically divorced from Brahminical authority. What was at stake was more than a generic Hindu–Muslim tension.

The language deployed, and the specific focus on Muslim priests, pointed towards an attempt to engineer fissures between Hindu Rajputs and Muslim Rajputs, particularly Kayamkhanis, who have long been integral to the region’s political and social fabric. By questioning Muslim custodianship, such interventions seek to delegitimise Rajput lineage-based authority and replace it with a Brahmin-centred religious hierarchy.

This is a familiar pattern. Across north India, shared folk shrines—whether associated with warrior-saints, pastoral deities, or local pirs—are increasingly being targeted for “purification”. The process typically involves reframing the shrine within a Sanskritic idiom, introducing Brahmin priests, marginalising hereditary custodians, and reinterpreting history to align with a homogenised and Brahminised Hindu identity. Gogamedi’s resistance to this process lies precisely in its Rajput genealogy and Muslim priesthood, which together obstruct the consolidation of Brahminical socio-political supremacy.

Seen in this light, the Gogamedi episode is less about one influencer’s statements and more about a struggle over power, memory, and control. Control over the shrine implies control over donations, narratives, and regional influence. Displacing Muslim Rajput priests would not only communalise the site but also dismantle a long-standing Rajput polity in the region—one that has historically operated outside Brahminical mediation.

The backlash therefore, should not be read as a mere defensive reflex. It represents a conscious assertion that Gogamedi belongs to a non-Brahminical, lineage-based sacred order, and that attempts to hijack the Gogaji cult into a Brahminical socio-political structure amount to historical distortion and cultural aggression.

Conclusion: Defending Gogamedi Is Defending History Itself 

The controversy surrounding Gogamedi is a reminder that India’s religious past is far messier, richer, and more plural than contemporary political projects allow. Shrines like Gogamedi survived precisely because they resisted rigid boundaries—between Hindu and Muslim, between priest and warrior, between devotion and lineage. To communalise such spaces is not to “protect” tradition but to falsify it.

What is unfolding at Gogamedi today is a test case.

Will shared sacred spaces be allowed to exist on their own historical terms, or will they be forcibly assimilated into a homogenised religious order that privileges one caste and one narrative over all others? Defending Gogamedi is not merely about preserving harmony; it is about defending the right of history to remain complex, uncomfortable, and inclusive. In that sense, the struggle over Gogamedi is not peripheral.

It goes to the heart of how India chooses to remember itself.

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गोगामेड़ी: राजपूत–मुस्लिम परंपरा और उस पर होते सांप्रदायिक दावे

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At the present time, Uttarakhand has become a centre of hate crimes. A few days ago, a report by a US-based think tank was released, which stated that the Chief Minister of Uttarakhand, Pushkar Singh Dhami, delivered the highest number of hate speeches in the year 2025. In 2025 alone, he gave a total of 71 hate speeches, which included terms such as spit jihad, land jihad and love jihad.

In Uttarakhand, under the protection of the government, dargahs are being continuously targeted. Sometimes the administration itself reaches the spot with bulldozers, and at other times anti-social elements arrive with hammers to demolish them. In one of his speeches, Chief Minister Pushkar Dhami himself claimed that his administration has demolished 600 dargahs. This is the official figure; apart from this, hundreds of other dargahs have already been demolished so far.

Something similar happened when, influenced by the Chief Minister’s provocative speeches, anti-social elements themselves vandalised an over 100-year-old shrine dedicated to Syed Baba Bulleshah in Mussoorie, Uttarakhand, on 24 January 2026. Approximately 25 to 30 people arrived at the shrine early in the morning and damaged the site using hammers. The group reportedly chanted religious slogans during the act, and a video of the incident has been circulated on social media. The police have taken the video as evidence for their ongoing investigation.

Perhaps the attackers do not know, O ignorant hammer-wielders, which personality’s shrine they went to demolish. They do not know who that great personality was. That shrine belongs to Hazrat Bulleh Shah, the great 17th-century Sufi, poet and philosopher.

Hazrat Sayyid Abdullah Shah Qadiri, also known as Hazrat Baba Bulleh Shah, is universally acknowledged as the greatest of the Punjabi mystics. No Punjabi mystic poet enjoys wider fame and a greater reputation. His kafis have gained unique popularity. In truth, he is one of the greatest Sufis of the world, and his thought equals that of Jalal al-Din Rumi and Shams Tabriz of Persia.

About Hazrat Bulleh Shah, Shah Inayat Qadiri writes:

Hazrat Shah Inayat, may Allah have mercy on him, said:

Bullhia rabb da pan ai

edharo puttan odharo lan hai.

“O Bulleh! This is the secret of Almighty Allah: on this side He uproots, on the other side He creates.”

“This,” says the tradition, “so deeply impressed Baba Bulleh Shah that, forgetting his family and its status, he became Inayat Shah’s disciple.”

Hazrat Bulleh Shah always stood for humanity and peace. In his life, we find many such incidents that prove that he was a humanist.

He emphasised universal love, tolerance, and the transcendence of sectarian identities, viewing humanity as inherently united under a single divine essence. His teachings advocated equality and rejected caste, creed, and ritualistic barriers that separated people, especially Hindus and Muslims, during a time of communal tensions under Mughal rule.

Influenced by Sufi traditions and elements of Hindu philosophy such as Vedanta, Bulleh Shah promoted humanism, urging followers to prioritise inner spiritual connection over external religious labels, and to see God in every individual regardless of faith.

He was revered across communities, Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs alike, for his role as a beacon of peace, denouncing dogma and social stratification while fostering fraternity and oneness.

Bulleh Shah’s time was marked by communal strife between Muslims and Sikhs. But in that era, Baba Bulleh Shah was a beacon of hope and peace for the people of Punjab. While Bulleh Shah was in Pandoke, Muslims killed a young Sikh man who was riding through their village, in retaliation for the murder of some Muslims by Sikhs. Baba Bulleh Shah condemned the murder of the innocent Sikh and was censured by the mullas and muftis of Pandoke. Bulleh Shah maintained that violence was not the answer to violence. He also hailed Guru Tegh Bahadur as a ghazi (an Islamic term for a religious warrior), which earned him the wrath of the fanatical Muslims of that time.

Banda Singh Bairagi was a contemporary of Bulleh Shah. In retaliation for the murder of Guru Gobind Singh’s two sons by Aurangzeb, Banda Singh Bairagi sought revenge by killing ordinary Muslims. Baba Bulleh Shah tried to persuade Banda Singh Bairagi to abandon his campaign of revenge. Bulleh Shah told him that the same sword which fell upon Guru Gobind Singh’s sons and innocent Sikhs had also fallen upon innocent Muslims. Therefore, killing innocent Muslims was not the answer to Aurangzeb’s oppressive rule.

Hazrat Bulleh Shah’s famous poem “Neither Hindu Nor Muslim” (original Punjabi: Na Hindu na Musalman) is a powerful critique of religious labels. This poem calls for discarding pride and walking on the path of peace, transcending binaries such as sin and virtue, or believer and non-believer, in order to embrace universal love.

Neither Hindu nor Muslim,

Sacrificing pride, let us sit together.

Neither Sunni nor Shia,

Let us walk the road of peace.

We are neither hungry nor full,

Neither naked nor clothed.

Neither weeping nor laughing,

Neither ruined nor settled.

We are not sinners nor pure and virtuous;

What is sin and what is virtue, I do not know.

Says Bulleh Shah, the one who attaches his self to the Lord

Gives up both Hindu and Muslim.

Bulleh is neither Rafzi nor Sunni,

Nor learned, nor an intellectual, nor a Jaini.

I have learnt only the lesson of the love of God.

People say: Bulleh is an infidel (kafir)

And an idol-worshipper.

But in the Lord’s court, both the momin and the kafir

(Believer and non-believer) are treated alike.

Here was Ramdas (a Hindu) and there Fateh Muhammad (a Muslim),

What an ancient quarrel there was between them,

But now their dispute has vanished,

And something new has emerged!

Makkay gayaan, gal mukdee naheen

Pawain sow sow jummay parrh aaeey

Ganga gayaan, gal mukdee naheen

Pawain sow sow gotay khaeeay

Gaya gayaan gal mukdee naheen

Pawain sow sow pand parrhaeeay

Bulleh Shah gal taeeyon mukdee

Jadon Mai nu dillon gawaeeay

~In English

Going to Makkah is not the ultimate

Even if hundreds of prayers are offered.

Going to River Ganges is not the ultimate

Even if hundreds of cleansing (Baptisms) are done.

Going to Gaya is not the ultimate

Even if hundreds of worships are done.

Bulleh Shah the ultimate is

When the “I” is removed from the heart!

This composition subverts orthodox identities and aligns with Sufi concepts such as wahdat al-wujud (the unity of being), where religious multiplicity dissolves into divine oneness, promoting interfaith reconciliation and humanistic equality.

In some of his verses, the Vaishnava colour is so dominant that one hesitates to accept them as the compositions of a Muslim. The vocabulary, metaphors, atmosphere, and thought are all Vaishnava. In the following verses, the gopis of Krishna’s devotees speak:

Murlī baj uthi aghatan, sun sun bhul gaian sab batan;

Sun sun Sham Sundar dian batan……

(Lord Krishna is playing the flute. Hearing its sound, I have forgotten everything.)

Bullhe Shah main tad birlai;

Jad di Murli Kanha vajai;

Bauri hoe ke tain val dhai,

Kaho ji kii val dast baratan.

(When Lord Krishna sounded the flute and I heard its voice, says Hazrat Bulleh Shah, I cried in agony. Since then I have been wailing in the pain of separation. Bulleh, the gopi, turned mad and ran towards Lord Krishna. The gopi asks where else she should go.)

Bulleh Shah sees God in Krishna, who grazed cows in Brindavan, and in Rama, who invaded Lanka:

Bindraban vich gauan charaen;

Lanka charh ke nad vajaen;

(O God, it was You who grazed the cows in Brindavan in the form of Krishna, and it was You who blew the trumpet of victory and invaded Lanka.)

In the verses where Islamic terminology appears, the spirit remains undeniably Vaishnava. Hazrat Bulleh Shah adored Prophet Muhammad not merely as a messenger of God, but as an incarnation of God.

He died in 1757 at the age of 77 and was buried in Kasur, where he had spent most of his life.

A regular contributor to New Age Islam, Sahil Razvi is a research scholar specialising in Sufism and Islamic History. He is an alumnus of Jamia Millia Islamia.

Courtesy: New Age Islam

The post Hate Politics and the Message of Hazrat Bulleh Shah appeared first on SabrangIndia.

(“Bulleh! I know not who I am.
I am neither a believer in the mosque,
Nor an unbeliever in the rites of heresy.
I am neither among the pure, nor among the polluted.”)

Did the twenty something boys and girls who hammered away at the shrine know anything at all about the raw honesty and introspection of the great philosopher? Did they know about his lifelong rebellion against Organised Religion including Islam and Hinduism?
No, they did not!

Their education and understanding of the world is limited to a zombie binary called Hindu versus Musalman.

Wrote the Sufi Saint:

Makkay gaya gal mukdee nahee
Pavein sau sau jummay parh aiye
Ganga gaya gal mukdee nahee
Pavein sau sau gotay khaiye

(“Going to Mecca doesn’t settle the matter,
Even if you pray a hundred Fridays there.
Going to the Ganges doesn’t settle the matter,
Even if you take a hundred ritual dips.”)

When asked why they comited this heinous act, one Lalit of Hindu Seva Dal replied “because his grave lies in Pakistan.”

God help the future generations of this country.

Courtesy: Facebook / Pushpinder Singh 

The post I feel a deep sense of sorrow as I sing to myself these verses by Baba Bulle Shah appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The interesting part was that in the front of the processions were bullock carts in keeping with the tradition , unlike some other processions where they use mechanized vehicles. This makes our streets so lively, of course mostly we have bad traffic jams and things are bad. But these old traditions lend much colour to the otherwise drab lives of common people. In the West they have given up these traditions long ago, the streets are too sanitized, too orderly.

A Sandal Procession (Sandal Sharif) is a Sufi Islamic ritual where devotees carry fragrant sandalwood (Sandal/Chandan) paste in plates, often with incense, to anoint the tombs (dargahs) or walls of mosques belonging to Muslim saints during Urs (death anniversary) celebrations. It is a display of devotion, purity, and unity, sometimes integrated with local traditions, there is Hindu Muslim unity, the Mahim police station takes the lead in the organization.

Some people may scoff at the idea animals on the streets which they think should be reserved for their cars, forgetting that motor cars are big polluters and impose such heavy social costs.

With all the faults, traditionally Indians have a good relationship with domestic animals, on some days the bullocks are worshipped decorated, not burdened on the day of Pola in Maharashtra and there are similar days in other states.

Westerners with all their sophistication in certain matters had had a pretty unfriendly, even hostile relationship with animals like in bull fighting which involve so much violence and though horse racing appeals to so many people, it involves much cruelty to the animal which we never get to see.

As coincidence would have it I saw a fairly interesting film at Alliance Francaise earlier this week which showed a woman, the protagonist, who realizes the need to treat the bulls kindly in bull sports.

In the film Animal, the first local woman to enter the ring with the young men who tempt, chase and are chased by local bulls starts to see things from the bulls’ perspective as bulls go “rogue” and started goring and stamping the locals in the dark of night, long after the audience — mostly tourists — for some events has left.

The Camargue style of bullfighting is non-fatal, a lot less bloody and far and away a more humane and “even” contest and is thus referred to as “bull racing” by the locals, who enter the ring — basically unarmed and on foot — and try to snatch cash-prize tokens attached to the bull’s scalp.
But as experts point every year, approximately 180,000 bulls are killed in bullfights around the world, with many more killed or injured in bull fiesta events. Bullfighting is already banned by law in many countries including Argentina, Canada, Colombia, Cuba, Denmark, Italy and the United Kingdom.
Although legal in Spain, some Spanish cities, have outlawed the practice of bull fighting.

(From Vidyadhar Date’s page on Facebook)

Mahim Durgah, a Sufi Saint and a Mumbai police ritual

A colonial practice, this ritual of Mumbai’s top police officers walking to durgahs with an offering every year has continued –despite the serious fissures between the police administration and Mumbai’s (then Bombay’s Muslim minority) during the post-Babri Masjid demolitions in December 1992 and January 1993. Sections of an otherwise acclaimed police force were accused, and found by the Justice BN Srikrishna Commission of being guilty of deep anti-minority biases. The practice of officers offering the ceremonial chadar has continued and this year. Each year, as Urs begins at Mahim Dargah, in December, a scene plays out on the streets of Mumbai with a police band at the front, uniformed officers behind and senior police officers carrying a green chadar as they walk towards the 600-year-old shrine of Hazrat Makhdoom Ali Mahimi.

After Independence, while most government departments quietly shed the ceremonial and religious practices they had inherited from the British era a few exceptions endured, particularly at dargahs such as Mahim, and Dongri’s Rehman Shah Ba.

What is the legacy of the Mahim Dargah?

The Indian Express reports that the Mahim Dargah of Hazrat Makhdoom Ali Mahimi is one of Mumbai’s oldest and most historically revered Islamic shrines, with a lineage going back over 600 years. Long before Mumbai grew into a metropolis, this coastal dargah functioned as a spiritual anchor for sailors, traders, scholars and communities along the western coast. The saint himself was of Arab descent; his ancestors are believed to have arrived in India around AD 860 (AH 252) after fleeing the persecution of Hajjaj ibn Yusuf, the much-feared governor of Basra. Born roughly five centuries later in India, Makhdoom Ali Mahimi received rigorous training in Islamic law and theology and was eventually appointed the faqih, or law officer, for the Muslim community of Mahim. He passed away in 1431, and soon after his death, the local community built a mosque and shrine in his honour. Over the centuries, that shrine evolved into one of Mumbai’s most significant pilgrimage centres.

Related:

Preamble to be read at Mahim Dargah in Mumbai

A Mahim Dargah revered by Mumbai Police

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Courtesy: The AIDEM

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