Teesta Setalvad speaks with Saurav Das about youth activism, intergenerational solidarity, “School Thik Karo”, social audits of government schools, police accountability and the right to protest.

They discuss the Supreme Court’s intervention on protest-related FIRs, the violence faced by protesters, and why citizens must keep questioning institutions meant to serve them.

And then, humour: why satire, irreverence and a refusal to be solemn became part of the movement itself.

A conversation about young citizens, public institutions and the courage to ask questions.

The post This Regime Is Anti-Fun; Humour Can Strip Its Legitimacy | Saurav Das | Teesta Setalvad appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

Breaking: IITB accepts that cheating allegation against Sahil Wakode are not proven, backtracks earlier letter

This is what we have been saying

Cheating allegation are not proven. IIT already backtracking

Prof Dulla should be arrested and investigated properly… https://t.co/BHjmciyQNv

— Ravi Ratan (@scribe_it) September 21, 2026

IIT Bombay has now suspended Professor Suryanarayana Doolla and also apologized over the matter.

The professor had falsely accused Sahil Wakode of using ChatGPT to cheat, an allegation that seriously damaged his academic career. pic.twitter.com/oQUlAb8WrM

— The Dalit Voice (@ambedkariteIND) September 21, 2026

Four suicides in one year at IIT Bombay. This is not a tragedy. This is institutional failure. This is institutional murder.

SFI stands with the students of IIT Bombay demanding action, accountability and transparency. pic.twitter.com/wSz7CastFD

— SFI (@SFI_CEC) September 20, 2026

It was never about cheating.

People justifying cheating leading to student ending his life in another pathetic view I came across.

I wish none of this happens to their kids. https://t.co/TaP02RiYKP

— Ratna Singh (@whattalawyer) September 21, 2026

अब तो IIT Bombay ने भी बिना किसी जांच के साहिल पर चीटिंग के आरोप लगाने पर माफीनामा जारी कर दिया है।

पहले साहिल को आत्महत्या पर मजबूर किया गया और अब उसके सांस्थानिक हत्या को जायज भी ठहराया जा रहा है! शर्मनाक है! https://t.co/e5cg5jPdNB pic.twitter.com/pjkLlCT16B

— Priyanka Bharti (@priyanka2bharti) September 21, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

Doolla has been removed as Dean. But only as Dean

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

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

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

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

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

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

What exactly is IIT Bombay defending?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there are the other deaths

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

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

The 18 demands show how much larger the crisis has become

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

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

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

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

A campus divided between solidarity and accountability

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

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

The question IIT Bombay must now answer

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

The Normalisation of Suicide at IITs: Institutional blindness and failure

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

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

Another student lost to suicide at IIT-Delhi

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

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

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

The post Three years after Darshan Solanki, Sahil Wakode’s death shows IIT Bombay still has no answer on caste, power and student deaths appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Open letter may be read below:

To

The Hon’ble Governor of West Bengal Lok Bhavan, Kolkata

Your Excellency,

We are senior academics from various institutions in West Bengal and elsewhere in India. We are writing to express our deep concern about the West Bengal Universities and Colleges (Administration and Regulation) (Amendment) Bill, 2026. The bill was passed in the Assembly on 10 September 2026. It would allow transfer of academic and non-academic staff between various state universities.

The reasons for our concern are both academic and procedural. The crucial academic issues are as follows:

1. Each university is a distinct organic entity with its own rationale, structure and programmes of It appoints its faculty in accord with these factors. To move staff from one institution to another would impair the structural balance of both institutions and hamper their teaching and research programmes. Such programmes cannot be readily revised or interchanged.
2. Taught courses and research orientation programmes are planned by and for particular teachers and would be impeded if they were transferred. Research work would be no less affected. A university has specialized faculty who attract fresh researchers in that field. Laboratory and library facilities are developed to provide for those special If those faculty members are transferred, young research students would be left without resort. The material resources would lie unused or underused, while the human resources – i.e., the relevant faculty – would be underemployed at a new institution.
3. Major research funding is invariably linked to the assurance of expert faculty members as Principal Investigators. No funder would agree to fund a project without this assurance. Interdisciplinary and multi-institutional projects would be especially On the other hand, the presence of core senior faculty in the field ensures a succession of projects, creating a node of research excellence. This is the case with many of our older universities. Transfer of faculty would impair the working of these research nodes.
4. At this point of time, even those older universities are impoverished of resources, material and human. Hundreds of posts are lying This is a particularly bad moment to deplete them of their remaining faculty.
5. We are anxious that the new universities should be developed productively, but this cannot be done by sporadic transfer of faculty from elsewhere. At present, all or most of the new universities are grossly lacking in staff, infrastructure and facilities. Some of them have no full-time teachers at all. These needs must be met with due planning and sufficient funding, with extensive recruitment of permanent staff at all Unless this is done, a handful of teachers brought in on transfer would be left to operate in a vacuum.
6. A more fundamental issue must also be Any such move would spell the end of academic autonomy. All the universities would be brought under centralized administrative control. They could no longer develop freely, each according to its bent. Academic productivity would suffer seriously if university faculty felt they could no longer control their own affairs. This is an intangible factor, but its importance cannot be overstated. We would particularly request you to consider this earnest appeal, made based on our lifetime’s experience.

Needless to say, there would also be endless procedural problems in coordinating the different terms of employment at various universities. Above all, there is the fundamental issue of whether faculty originally appointed to non-transferable posts could be subjected to this radical change in their terms of employment. We are not expanding on these legal and administrative issues as we wish to stress the dire academic consequences of the change.

In short, it is our strong opinion that this change, if implemented, would severely affect the functioning of the older and more established universities without material benefit to the new ones. We earnestly appeal to you to consider our arguments and refrain from giving your consent to the bill.

Yours faithfully

(Names in alphabetical order)

Amita Chatterjee, Professor Emerita, Jadavpur University, and former Vice-Chancellor, Presidency University

Amitava Raychaudhuri, former Palit Professor of Physics, University of Calcutta and former Director, Harish-Chandra Research Institute (DAE), Prayagraj

Anup Sinha, former Professor of Economics, Indian Institute of Management, Calcutta

Anupam Basu, Raja Ramanna Professor, Jadavpur University; former Professor of Computer Science and Engineering, Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur; former Director, National Institute of Technology, Durgapur

Ashok Ranjan Thakur, former Vice-Chancellor, West Bengal State University and Maulana Abul Kalam Azad University of Technology

Partha Chatterjee, former Director, Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta

Partha P. Majumdar, Emeritus Professor, Indian Statistical Institute, and former National Science Chair

Sabyasachi Basu Ray Chaudhury, former Vice-Chancellor, Rabindra Bharati University

Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, Professor Emeritus, former Director and Distinguished Professor, Tata Institute of Fundamental Research

Samaresh Bhattacharya, Former Professor, Department of Chemistry, Jadavpur University and recipient of Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar prize

Sobhanlal Datta Gupta, former S.N. Banerjee Professor of Political Science, University of Calcutta

Siddhartha Datta, former Professor of Chemical Engineering and former Pro-Vice-Chancellor, Jadavpur University

Sukanta Chaudhuri, Professor Emeritus, Jadavpur University Supriya Chaudhuri, Professor Emerita, Jadavpur University

Related:

May-June 2026: Youth Congress nationwide protests challenge education system collapse under Modi government, media gives cold shoulder?

I AM MALALA! Afghanistan or Ahmedabad why are fundamentalists wary of the right to education?

Galgotias University’s AI Expo Debacle: What it says about Contemporary Indian Education & Public Culture

The post Refrain consent to WB University & Colleges Amendment Bill, 2026, will affect autonomy & functioning: Academic to Governor appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Pooja Mathur set the tone at the meeting held by the Press Club of India, the Delhi Union of Journalists and the Network of Women in Media to protest attacks on women journalists.

Mathur spoke boldly of how she has been targetted by the UP government for her coverage of the bulldozing of a Saharanpur masjid on Sept. 6. Mathur said she was the first to report the demolition on her YouTube channel Red Chili Live. She interviewed the Imam of the mosque and took a video of the rubble. After that she received messages demanding that she delete the videos, followed by threats when she refused. An FIR has been filed against her.

Mathur said courageously, “I was doing my job. I àm not afraid. I will not cry, I will make them cry.” She also pointed out that women journalists like her are the voice and the inspiration of countless other women who dare not step out of home and raise their own voices against oppression.  Mathur also said to the big gathering present, “Do not dismiss us as mere Youtubers. We are serious journalists, we are qualified, we do our research before we go online.”

Divya Srivastava spoke of how she was targetted after she dared to speak at a ‘press conference’ held by UP Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath on Sept 12. The CM spoke but took no questions. When Divya loudly called him out, asking him to hear her question, he simply walked away. This smàll incident was blown out of proportion with some fellow journalists warning her to go into hiding as she would now be under fire. She was trolled heavily, with threats, abuse and allegations that she had been sent by a rival political party to ask questions.

“Why should I hide, journalism is not a crime,” Mathur said.

She said her job at a channel was now insecure as the channel owners were afraid of the backlash.

Bindu Romi Gujjar and Monika Singh, both independent journalists based in Delhi, were among the first to reach Balaghat in Madhya Pradesh after several Baiga tribal children died of disease in August 2026. They interviewed parents and relatives of the children.

Gujjar described the trauma of witnessing funeral rites. She said there was only one primary health centre for 25 villages and the nearest hospital is 130 km away. No ambulance is available. She said that the deaths were caused by malaria, a treatable disease. She asked why no malaria vaccines are provided in malaria prone areas. Singh described conditions in the government hospital where three or four children were lying in each bed. The journalists’ documentation of 30 deaths, backed by Aadhar cards and other evidence, embarrassed the local administration which claimed there were only eight deaths. The reporters were shadowed for several days and threatened. The Superintendent of Police wanted them to meet him. They did not go. Two policemen came to their hotel room at 2 a.m. at night, she said. They began to fear for their lives. Eventually they left the hotel in the night and returned to Delhi.

Singh spoke of the conditions in the Baiga villages where there are no facilities, not even clean drinking water. She spoke of the hospital which the District Magistrate, she said, visited several days after the first deaths. She claimed that 34 children were discharged the day before his visit, more beds were supplied, bed linen changed and the entire hospital disinfected. She said the journalists were accused of being Muslim and a doctor at the hospital openly displayed bias.

On Sept 6 the social media accounts of Bindu Gurjar, Lok Singh and Monika were suspended. Monika’s account is still suspended. “We are independent journalists,” she said, “how will we earn and continue to work if accounts are suspended?”

Impassioned testimonies came from Shaheen Khan and Nafeesa Khan of 4 PM News, who were picked up by Saket police on Sept 3, 2026, while standing on the roadside to report the visit of Home Minister Amit Shah and Chief Minister Rekha Gupta to Max Hospital to inaugurate a new wing. Nafeesa described in detail their detention at Saket police station and the trauma of being beaten with fists and a lathi by a woman inspector. She said she began to fear for her life after the inspector learnt they were Muslim and began to beat them more viciously. The SHO, she said, had ordered the beating and other police personnel were complicit.

Shaheen said that after the incident became public senior policemen later apologised and admitted there had been a mistake. However, she said, the FIR eventually registered names of only two police personnel, although they have filed a complaint against several personnel. She urged journalists to take up the issue and ensure justice.

The meeting was also addressed by PCI President Sangeeta Baruah Pisharoty, Secretary General Afzal Imam, DUJ President Sujata Madhok, Divya Arya of the Network of Women Journalists in India, journalist Khushbu Akhtar and Caravan Editor Hartosh Singh Bal who expressed solidarity with the media women and applauded them for their courage in speaking out.

Sabrangindia was among the first to interview both Shaheen and Nafeesa Khan. The interview may be watched here. 

Details of these testimonies by women journalists were released by the Delhi Union of Journalists (DUJ) in a statement, by the organisation’s president, Sujata Madhok and its general secretary, A.M. Jigeesh.

Related:

Press bodies condemn alleged assault on women journalists at Saket Police Station, seek inquiry and action

Two women journalists allege police assault after questioning Delhi CM, say attack intensified after police heard they were Muslim

Two Delhi-based women journalists arrested by Assam police on request from Tripura cops 

The post Women journalists who were attacked prevented from reporting, protest attacks appeared first on SabrangIndia.

On Sept 16, 2026, a young woman reporter Kavita Bishnoi was reportedly threatened by an angry mob of Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) supporters in the Delhi University campus. It was election eve and several reporters were covering the students’ union elections.

Ms Bishnoi has courageously put out a video recounting how a goon came right up to her, yanked at her stole and accused her of being a leftist since her ajrakh scarf had a red border, states the DUJ.

She denied the accusation as did some of her colleagues. She was later accosted again, with two girls demanding to check her mobile phone. She reports that none of the reporters present who saw the mob of over a hundred people armed with sticks and stones were allowed to take photos or videos.

Quoting from Ms Bishnoi’s video, the DUJ statement says that police present on the spot were passive spectators while anyone who dared take pictures were attacked and had their cameras broken. She says that only the fact that she was female saved her from being beaten up.

DUJ regrets the escalation of violence in the city’s once peaceful universities and demands that Delhi police maintain law and order without bias and without infringing on the right of peaceful democratic protest.

Every reporter’s right to freely cover events without undue pressure and every student’s right to vote peacefully must be protected.

The statement has been issued by DUJ president, Sujata Madhok, its vice-president S.K,Pande and general secretary, DUJ, A.M. Jigeesh.

Related:

Attack on journalists in Uttar Pradesh Vidhan Sabha condemned: DUJ

Whither Freedom: The Chhatisgarh attack on journalists

Attack on journalist Nikhil Wagle: Despite evidence, CP, Pune Amitesh Kumar denies attempt to murder charge (S 307)

The post Reporter attacked on DU Campus, DUJ condemns assault appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Paper leaks are often treated as an examination problem. For the students involved, it becomes a much bigger problem. A cancelled examination can mean starting preparation again, spending more money, travelling again and waiting months for another opportunity. For candidates close to the age limit, a delay can even affect their eligibility for another attempt.

The scale of the problem has been visible in some of India’s biggest examinations. The NEET UG 2024 controversy brought the issue into the national spotlight. The Central Bureau of Investigation investigated allegations surrounding the leakage of the examination paper in Hazaribagh, Jharkhand. The controversy also raised questions about grace marks, examination centres and the overall conduct of the examination.

Government recruitment examinations have faced similar controversies. In 2024, allegations of a question paper leak affected the Bihar Public Service Commission’s teacher recruitment examination, with the commission cancelling the examination for candidates at one centre in Patna. Such cases show how a problem at one point in the examination system can affect thousands of young people waiting for a fair chance.

Think about an aspirant who has spent two years preparing for a government examination. They may have left a job, joined a coaching programme, borrowed money for preparation or moved to another city. On the morning of the examination, they are ready to finally see the result of that effort. Later, news breaks that the paper was leaked and the examination may have to be cancelled. For the authorities, it becomes an investigation. For the student, it can feel like another year has disappeared.

There is also a financial cost that rarely gets enough attention. Application fees, coaching, books, online courses, accommodation, travel and repeated preparation all add up. Not every aspirant comes from a family that can comfortably afford another attempt. A student from a financially weaker background may have to choose between preparing again and finding work to support the family.

Then comes the question of trust. The basic idea behind a competitive examination is simple: candidates should receive the same paper under the same conditions and compete on their preparation. If some candidates get access to the paper beforehand, that basic understanding of fairness breaks down. Students begin wondering whether hard work is enough or whether connections and money matter more.

This is especially serious in India because government jobs remain highly sought after by young people. They offer stability, regular income and social security at a time when many private sector jobs can be uncertain. A limited number of vacancies can attract a huge number of applicants. When an examination is cancelled or delayed, the competition does not disappear. It simply becomes another round of waiting for the same young people.

The responsibility for protecting an examination cannot be placed on students. They have already done their part by studying and appearing for the test. Examination agencies need stronger security systems, careful handling of question papers, better monitoring and quick action when irregularities are reported. Investigations also need to reach the people responsible instead of leaving students to carry the consequences.

There also needs to be greater transparency after a suspected leak. Students deserve to know what happened, why an examination was cancelled and when the next examination will take place. Recruitment calendars should be as predictable as possible, especially when thousands of young people plan their lives around them.

A paper leak may look like a few pages reaching the wrong hands. For a student, the loss can be much larger. It can mean lost time, lost money, another year of preparation and another period of uncertainty.

India often speaks about merit and equal opportunity. Those words only have meaning when the system protects the people who earn their place through honest effort. Young people preparing for examinations are not asking for an easier competition. They are asking for a fair one.

The exam leak crisis is therefore more than a problem of examination security. It is a youth issue. Every leaked paper raises the same question: when the system fails, who pays the price? Too often, it is the student who studied honestly.

 (Jyotiraditya Singh is a Youth Leader and Social Activist associated with Youth Forum India. He writes on youth, education, employment and public policy issues, with a focus on giving young people a stronger voice in public conversations.)

The post The youth caught in the exam leak crisis appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Further:

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

Courtesy: CounterView

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The Press Club of India, along with the Indian Women’s Press Corps, Delhi Union of Journalists, Press Association and Kerala Union of Working Journalists, issued a joint statement on September 3 condemning the alleged assault and seeking action against police personnel posted at Saket Police Station, including the Station House Officer (SHO).

The Press Club of India, Indian Women’s Press Corps, Delhi Union of Journalists,
Press Association, and Kerala Union of Working Journalist strongly condemn and
call for punitive action against Delhi Police officials posted at the Saket Police Station,
including the Station House… pic.twitter.com/aC7P19Hbkw

— Press Club of India (@PCITweets) September 3, 2026

Subsequently, the NWMI and the Editors Guild of India also issued separate statements expressing solidarity with the two journalists and calling for an investigation into the allegations. The NWMI demanded that the police personnel allegedly involved be suspended pending inquiry, while the Editors Guild sought an immediate independent and unbiased probe and strict action if the allegations were substantiated.

The Network of Women in Media, India unequivocally condemns the brutal assault on Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan, both journalists with 4pm News, and demands strict action against the police personnel involved. pic.twitter.com/Tju6M6egom

— NWMIndia (@NWM_India) September 5, 2026

What the journalists alleged

Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan, associated with digital news platform 4PM News Network, were covering the inauguration of a new wing at Max Smart Super Speciality Hospital in Saket on September 3. The event was attended by Union Home Minister Amit Shah and Delhi Chief Minister Rekha Gupta.

According to the journalists and statements subsequently issued by press organisations, the two were stopped by police personnel near the venue when they sought to ask questions as part of their journalistic coverage.

The journalists alleged that they were manhandled and taken to Saket Police Station. They further alleged that they were subsequently taken to a room inside the police station and assaulted by police personnel, including women officers.

According to the NWMI statement, the journalists had sought to ask questions during the event, including queries concerning an alleged cycle scam. NWMI stated that the journalists were allegedly handled roughly near the venue and later beaten at Saket Police Station. It further referred to the journalists’ allegation that the assault intensified after police personnel became aware that both women were Muslim and that religion-specific abuses were allegedly used.

We demand that the police personnel involved in the assault be suspended pending inquiry.

Such attacks on journalists are unconstitutional and against freedom of the press, which is an essential part of freedom of expression.https://t.co/LMuXFhq2nQ

— NWMIndia (@NWM_India) September 5, 2026

On September 5, the Editors Guild of India similarly stated that the journalists had alleged that they were manhandled and taken away in a police vehicle after attempting to pose a question to Delhi Chief Minister Rekha Gupta. According to the Guild’s statement, the two alleged that they were beaten by women police officials at Saket Police Station and subjected to abuse targeting their religion.

Statement on Assault on Women Journalists by Delhi Police pic.twitter.com/cecTcQKjKU

— Editors Guild of India (@IndEditorsGuild) September 5, 2026

Videos circulated by the journalists and their organisation showed injury marks and bruises on their bodies. The allegations led to statements of condemnation and demands for action from several journalists’ organisations.

Delhi Police denies allegations

Delhi Police has, however, rejected the allegations of assault and religious targeting.

According to the police version, the two journalists were briefly detained after allegedly obstructing or violating a designated VVIP route near the event venue. Police officials have described the allegations of assault and religious targeting as “factually incorrect”, “misleading” and baseless.

Reports quoting South Delhi police officials stated that the journalists were asked to move from the designated VVIP security route and were taken to the police station following an altercation. The police have maintained that no physical assault took place.

The Editors Guild of India, while referring to the police version, stated that Delhi Police had maintained that the journalists were removed because of an allegedly improperly parked scooter and obstruction of access. The Guild nevertheless sought an independent and unbiased examination of the allegations.

Thus, the circumstances surrounding the incident remain disputed, with the journalists alleging assault and religious targeting during their detention and Delhi Police denying the allegations.

Press Club and journalists’ organisations seek action

In its joint statement, the Press Club of India, along with the Indian Women’s Press Corps, Delhi Union of Journalists, Press Association and Kerala Union of Working Journalists, called for punitive action against police personnel allegedly involved in the incident.

The organisations urged Delhi Police Commissioner Anurag Kumar to ensure a free and fair investigation into the allegations and called upon the Press Council of India to take suo motu cognisance of the matter and conduct an independent inquiry.

The statement was issued by Press Club of India President Sangeeta Barooah Pisharoty and Secretary General Afzal Imam and was supported by the four journalists’ organisations.

NWMI demands suspension pending inquiry

In its statement issued on September 5, the Network of Women in Media, India unequivocally condemned the alleged assault on Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan and expressed solidarity with the two journalists.

NWMI urged the Delhi Police Commissioner to investigate the conduct of the police officers allegedly involved and demanded that the personnel accused of assault be suspended pending inquiry. The organisation stated that attacks on journalists were inconsistent with freedom of the press and freedom of expression.

Editors Guild seeks independent and unbiased probe

The Editors Guild of India also strongly condemned the detention and alleged assault of Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan by Delhi Police personnel attached to Saket Police Station.

The Guild referred to the journalists’ allegations that they were manhandled near the event venue, taken to the police station and assaulted by women police officials. It also noted the allegations concerning religion-specific abuse.

Referring to the injury marks shown by the journalists in videos, the Editors Guild called for an immediate independent and unbiased investigation into the allegations.

The Guild demanded strict action against police personnel if the allegations against them were substantiated. The statement was issued by Editors Guild of India President Sanjay Kapoor and General Secretary Raghavan Srinivasan.

Demand for CCTV footage and legal action

Following the incident, the journalists and representatives of 4PM News Network sought the preservation and release of CCTV footage from Saket Police Station.

The journalists have maintained that CCTV footage could establish what transpired inside the police station. Reports stated that Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan, along with their editor Sanjay Sharma, were considering approaching the Delhi High Court seeking preservation and production of the relevant CCTV footage.

According to reports, Sharma said that the police personnel found responsible should face action and that the CCTV footage should be made available for examination.

Background

The incident took place during the inauguration of a new wing at Max Smart Super Speciality Hospital in Saket. Shaheen Khan and Nafisa Khan have said they were present in the area for journalistic coverage of the event and had sought to question the Delhi Chief Minister.

Their allegations of detention and assault emerged through videos and social media posts on September 3, following which the Press Club of India and several other journalists’ organisations issued statements demanding accountability.

The Network of Women in Media, India issued its statement on September 5, followed by the Editors Guild of India’s demand for an independent and unbiased inquiry. The statements by the organisations have collectively called for an examination of the allegations, accountability for police personnel if wrongdoing is established and protection of journalists carrying out their professional duties.

Delhi Police has maintained that the journalists were detained because of an alleged obstruction of the designated VVIP route and has denied allegations of physical assault and religious targeting. 

The differing accounts have made an independent inquiry, including examination of available CCTV footage and other evidence, central to the demands raised by the journalists and press bodies.

Related

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Six-year-old detained during Patna teacher aspirants’ protest, parents allege police assault

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It is important, however, to understand the change in Vande Mataram’s status beyond the simple paradigm of it being a diversion tactic to shift debate away from the Jantar Mantar-NEET protests. Why?

Because some 122 years ago, the slogan Vande Mataram galvanised large sections of Indians against British rule and became an integral part of the national imagination. Now, Vande Mataram is being sought to be used as a tool by the BJP to further its project of cultural imposition upon Indians.

This essay argues that the 2026 Amendment represents a transition from the idea of a more personal nationalism to a paradigm of imposed nationalism, arriving in the wake of the loosening grip of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party. The amendment, along with the push to bring Vande Mataram on par with Jana Gana Mana, fits neatly within the Hindutva project of rewriting the symbolism of the Congress regime. Through an examination of the song’s literary, political, and constitutional history, this essay will demonstrate that the 2026 Amendment does not represent historical continuity, but rather a contemporary majoritarian redefinition of a complex national symbol.

What does the law say?

Before I go further, it is important to state the change brought in by The Prevention of Insults to National Honour (Amendment) Act, 2026 (hereafter, the 2026 Amendment), which amends the Prevention of Insults to National Honour Act, 1971 (the 1971 Act).

Section 3 of the 1971 Act, before the amendment, read as follows:

Prevention of singing of Indian National Anthem, etc. — whoever intentionally prevents the singing of the Indian National Anthem or causes disturbance to any assembly engaged in such singing shall be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to three years, or with fine, or with both.

The 2026 Amendment substituted the above section with the following:

3. Whoever, intentionally — (a) prevents the singing of the National Anthem or the National Song; or (b) causes disturbance to any assembly engaged in such singing, shall be punishable with imprisonment for a term which may extend to three years, or with fine, or with both.

The question is why?

A simple question to ask while analysing any material event is to ask why. Why should any law be made? Naturally, to address and engage with an issue in society that needs the moral, political, and social force of the law for it to be solved. Why should this specific song be given protection? Because it is being disrespected, and therefore, a proper protection regime is needed.

However, if one looks at the Statement of Objects and Reasons (SOR) for the 2026 Act, one would be amused by the lack of a problem statement, that is, the issue the amendment seeks to address. The SOR is an interpretative tool used to understand the circumstances surrounding the enactment of a law, or the problem the law was intended to solve. The SOR for the Vande Mataram Act says, essentially, three things:

1. Jana Gana Mana is a protected National Symbol.
2. Dr. Rajendra Prasad said in a speech that Vande Mataram shall be equally honoured on par with Jana Gana Mana.
3. Therefore, to ensure that Vande Mataram is respected and protected, this amendment is being enacted.

There is no problem statement here. A problem statement would have looked something like this, even with minimum amount of effort on part of the government:

Owing to the fact that incidents of disrespecting the National Song have become frequent in recent times, it is fit to follow the ideal propounded by Dr. Rajendra Prasad to honour the National Song on par with the National Anthem, and to accord the former the same protection as the latter under the Prevention of Insults to National Honour Act, 1971.

We find no such basis for the amendment in the first place. We do, however, find the real reasons ex post. How? The government sent orders across the steel frame that is the Indian bureaucracy stating that official functions should be opened by singing the full version of Vande Mataram, that is, all six stanzas as opposed to the current convention of singing only the first two.

To put it in one sentence: the BJP wants India’s imagination with respect to its National Symbols reimagined in the way it sees them. Right now, Jana Gana Mana, the National Anthem, is written by Rabindranath Tagore, someone who a Modi can only try to imitate before an election but cannot claim to be either his guru or ideological predecessor. After all, Tagore’s nationalism was more humanistic than the most liberal ideas of nationalism. The flag, the song, and every other symbol bear the imprint of the Indian National Congress (INC) and its role in the independence movement. Therefore, the BJP wants to rewrite them using the means of law and power.

It is in this context that any further analysis of the current political developments, and of the Act, should be undertaken.

Reading between the lines

The operative provision of the act does two things. It punishes anyone who intentionally prevents the singing of the National Anthem or the National Song. It also punishes anyone who causes disturbance to an assembly engaged in that singing. Three years, a fine, or both.

Section 3A of the parent Act, inserted in 2003, adds a mandatory minimum of one year for a second conviction. Vande Mataram has thus been placed in the same level as Jana Gana Mana.

Weber’s old distinction between legality and legitimacy is useful here.[1] A statute may be perfectly legal, passed with the required majorities and notified on the appointed day, and still lack legitimacy, because it answers to the will of those in power rather than to any demonstrable public interest. The missing problem statement and reliance on a speech of a single leader is a testament to the fact that the government does not have a proper legitimate reason to do this, except for its aggressive enthusiasm to irk the cultural fabric of the country. Invoking Rajendra Prasad in these circumstances is a prop, not a justification. There is something faintly comic about a party pressing the words of a 1950 Congressman into service to authorise its own coercive statute.

What the government cannot invoke is more revealing than what it can. National integrity is off the table, because that would be a confession of failure over twelve years in office. The government’s own ideological ancestors on Vande Mataram are off the table too, because Savarkar, Golwalkar and Hedgewar were peripheral figures in the freedom struggle, and their writings on the song, where they exist, wilt on any honest comparison with those of Bose, Nehru or Tagore.

Historical Context

Origins

Bankim wrote the song around 1875 in a heavily Sanskritised Bengali and published it in Bangadarshan.[2] It was a regional lyric to the beauty of Bengal. It addressed the population of the Presidency and made no Pan-Indian claim. Seven years later Bankim placed it inside Anandamath, and its meaning was rewritten. The nation became a goddess, deified as a triad of Jagaddhatri, Kali and Durga. The song became the battle hymn of the santanas, the children who wage war for her honour. That war, and the point tends to get buried under a century of nationalist reception, is not fought against the British. It is fought against Muslims. The santanas torch houses, loot properties, and dream aloud of building temples on the sites of demolished mosques.[3] The novel’s climax welcomes British rule as friendly and necessary. A supernatural physician arrives to tell Satyananda to cease fighting, on the ground that the English will protect Hindu spiritual knowledge from further contamination.[4] It also important to note here that the current issue with the debate is not its origins. The analysis of the origins of the song should be done in a context that is more mature and is not charged with the fact the government wants every citizen to own it.

The slogan India chanted and the aftermath

Coming back to the timeline, in 1905, Lord Curzon partitioned Bengal along communal lines. Within months the opening stanzas of Vande Mataram were being sung at protests across the province. The stanzas travelled on their own, without the novel behind them. Protestors, weavers, students, boatmen carried the words into streets where most of those chanting had never opened Anandamath.

The ecumenical moment did not last. Aurobindo Ghose, writing in his weekly Bande Mataram between 1906 and 1908, undertook a deliberate sacralisation of the anti-colonial struggle. He called Bankim a seer. He called nationalism a religion. Patriotism, on his account, was Karma Yoga, Shaktipuja, a devotional discipline addressed to the Mother.[5] Aurobindo aligned the vocabulary of the national struggle with the theological structures of one religion, at the very moment the movement was acquiring a mass character.

The trouble was not that Hindus imagined the nation in Hindu terms. Every community imagines the nation in the vocabulary available to it.[6] The trouble was that this particular imagination was then offered as the imagination of all Indians, and those who could not sign on would be positioned first as reluctant, then as suspect. The line from Aurobindo’s Shaktipuja to the twenty-first-century slogan Iss desh mein rehna hai to Vande Mataram kehna hoga is neither short nor straight but it is a very real line.

The objections

By the late 1930s the fracture visible in the fine print of Anandamath had become audible in the public life of the Congress. Vande Mataram was by then the customary opening of party gatherings, and it was drawing objections. Muslim organisations found in it an idolatrous invocation of the motherland as a Hindu deity. Christian and Sikh groups objected too.

At the Muslim League’s Lucknow session in October 1937, Jinnah pressed this into a central charge against the Congress. His argument was that to insist on Vande Mataram was to insist on a majoritarian theological culture, and to require of the citizen that she be, in her aesthetic and religious sensibility, first a Hindu.

The Congress Working Committee met in Calcutta on 26 October 1937 under Nehru’s presidency, and it understood the danger. A subcommittee was set-up: Nehru, Gandhi, Azad, and Bose. The subcommittee with able advice from Rabindranath Tagore decided to endorse the first two stanzas of Vande Mataram and leaving out the later stanzas for they refer the country in a rather Hindu imagination or that other communities have objections to it.

The 1937 compromise is usually described as an accommodation of Muslim sentiment. That is true, and it is incomplete. What the CWC actually did was closer to what Isaiah Berlin later called value pluralism.[7] If a society is an amalgamation of communities with various commitments, be that of religious nature or otherwise, a single symbol cannot represent that society as a whole. The good thing about political wisdom is that in these kind of situations, it constructs bridges between various groups and creates a space that does not ask one section to fit into the imagination of the other. It is not a concession but a link in a long chain of actions that strive to create a pluralist society.

The Constituent Assembly and the Settlement of 1950

The compromise of 1937 cast a long shadow over the Constituent Assembly. As the Assembly moved towards finalising the national symbols, the argument that had been fought inside the Congress in the 1930s was fought again, this time on the floor of the House drafting the constitution of a new republic.

Purushottam Das Tandon led the conservative wing and pressed for the adoption of Vande Mataram as the sole National Anthem. The argument did have its force. The song had been sung on the gallows. It had been chanted in jails. It had been the last word on the lips of men and women marched to their deaths. To choose any other song, on this view, would insult the memory of the movement itself. Against Tandon stood a coalition of liberal Congressmen, minority representatives and others who saw that the historical memory of a movement cannot be the sole ground on which the symbols of a state are chosen. Jana Gana Mana had emerged in the interim as an alternative. Its language had no similar objections.

The Assembly did what has not been sufficiently appreciated. It chose not to resolve the argument by vote. It chose to resolve it by settlement. On January 24, 1950, Rajendra Prasad, in his capacity as President of the Assembly, made a statement rather than moved a resolution. Jana Gana Mana was the National Anthem. Vande Mataram was the National Song. The two would be honoured equally, and the National Song would have equal status.

Granville Austin noticed the framers’ persistent aversion to producing textual solutions that would freeze the resolution of live cultural disputes.[8] A statement by the presiding officer does not carry the force of law. It carries the force of morality. They were leaving room for the conscience of those who could not, for reasons rooted in the depths of their religious sensibility, sing the song without violence to themselves.

Compelled Speech and the Rights of Conscience

The 2026 Amendment converts this symbolic honorary status into a penal obligation. Its defenders will say, correctly, that the text prohibits only the intentional prevention of singing and the causing of disturbance to an assembly engaged in such singing. It does not, on its face, compel any citizen to sing. This is a formalist reading, and it disintegrates the moment one considers the environment in which the law will operate.

The Supreme Court addressed precisely this environment in Bijoe Emmanuel v. State of Kerala in 1986. Three Jehovah’s Witness children had refused to sing the National Anthem in their school, on the ground that their conscience forbade singing an anthem to anything other than God. Chinnappa Reddy J. held that standing respectfully during the anthem was sufficient, and that compelling the singing violated Article 19 (1) (a), which contains within the right to freedom of speech the right to remain silent, and Article 25, which protects freedom of conscience. The judgment is short. It rests on a proposition of considerable constitutional depth. The state cannot demand of the citizen a positive act of expression as the price of belonging. If the singing of the National Anthem itself cannot be compelled, the singing of Vande Mataram, whose theological register is far more textured, cannot be compelled either. Anything else would be a constitutional absurdity.

The trouble is that the Amendment does not need to compel singing on its face in order to compel singing in practice. In a polarised atmosphere the silent refusal that Bijoe Emmanuel protects can be re-characterised by a local complainant, an aggrieved neighbour or an ambitious sub-inspector as an act of causing disturbance or of showing disrespect. When the boundaries of a law are unclear and its penalties are severe, it poses a risk of citizens retreating well behind the boundaries. The right to remain silent becomes the risk of remaining silent, and the risk becomes prohibitive.

Briefly, the argument for the Vande Mataram Amendment is three pronged. One, if it was declared that anthem and song are to be treated same, then the statutory protections also should be the same. Second, the act does not ask everyone to sing. It asks people to not disturb the singing or prevent the singing. Third, the more boilerplate that the Parliament in its own wisdom has chosen to protect a national symbol and it does not need to give a layered justification for its decision.

These are respectable arguments but they fail for reasons worth spelling out.

If the framers wanted to legislate it or settle it, they would have, then and there. To make an active choice to not move it for vote shows that they let the national symbols be adoptable for all communities. Secondly, in an atmosphere where people have been deliberately charged with jingoism, the test in Bijoe Emmanuel will only hold until the Courts show the intention to. Once the crowd starts to expect that the whole of the song is to be sung, it is to the Crowd’s wisdom to act when someone does not sing the whole of the song, although it is not legally mandated. Thirdly, a polity’s right to protect its symbols cannot exceed the polity’s own core commitments. India’s foundational commitment, spelled out in the Preamble and vindicated across sixty years of adjudication, is to a plurality that does not require assimilation as the price of belonging and therefore, if the state wants to nevertheless protect the song, it should give not just a layered justification but also a constitutional one.

There is a deeper worry beneath all three of the above arguments. Ambedkar closed his final address to the Constituent Assembly with a warning about hero-worship in Indian public life. Bhakti in religion may be a road to salvation, he said. In politics it is a sure road to degradation and eventual dictatorship.[9] The 2026 Amendment is not, of course, a dictatorial measure. But its logic is the logic Ambedkar was warning against. It is the transfer of devotional intensity from the temple to the state, and the enforcement of such devotion, by criminal sanction. Once the state acquires the taste for compelling public affirmations of its own sacredness, the appetite tends to grow and that is a slippery slope.

Conclusion

The 2026 Amendment is best read not as a technical amendment to a sixty-year-old statute but as a political act of considerable ambition. Its ambition is to redraw the symbolic constitution of the Republic, and to accomplish through the ordinary instruments of legislation what its authors could not accomplish through the constituent process. It substitutes for the delicate settlement of 1937 and 1950 a punitive uniformity. And it does so in the absence of any demonstrable public harm that might justify the criminal law.

Defending the song against this treatment is not diminishing it. It is insisting on the terms on which the song became precious in the first place. It was sung by Bose in Berlin and by peasants in Chittagong. It was sung by Muslims in Bombay and by students in Madras. It was sung, in its truncated form, at Congress gatherings for a decade after 1937, and it was sung with more feeling for having been truncated, because the truncation was itself an act of respect towards those who could not sing the whole.

A republic honours its symbols by permitting their voluntary embrace. It dishonours them by conscripting the criminal law to enforce their recital. The framers understood this in 1950 with a clarity that their successors have chosen to forget. The task of the citizen in the years to come is to remember what has been forgotten, and to insist, patiently and in public, that a song sung under threat is not the song manifesting the true national consciousness.

(The author is part of the legal research team of the organisation)

[1]Weber, Economy and Society, on the distinction between legality and legitimacy in modern domination.

[2]Bhattacharya, Vande Mataram: The Biography of a Song, chapters 1 and 2.

[3]Sarkar, Hindu Wife, Hindu Nation, on the maternal figure in Bankim; Kaviraj, The Unhappy Consciousness, on the novelistic construction of nationalist imagination.

[4]Noorani, “How Secular is Vande Mataram?”, Frontline, 2 January 1999.

[5]Ghose, Bande Mataram (weekly edition, 1906 to 1908).

[6]Chatterjee, The Nation and Its Fragments, on the “inner” spiritual domain of Indian nationalism and its Hindu inflection.

[7]Berlin, “Two Concepts of Liberty” and the essays in The Crooked Timber of Humanity.

[8]Austin, The Indian Constitution: Cornerstone of a Nation, on the framers’ preference for procedural over substantive resolution of cultural disputes.

[9]Ambedkar, address to the Constituent Assembly, November 25, 1949: “Bhakti in religion may be a road to the salvation of the soul. But in politics, Bhakti or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship.”

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The post Vande Mataram and the 2026 Amendment: From voluntary honour to penal coercion appeared first on SabrangIndia.

That is also the nature of Shaheen’s wider ground reporting. Her videos show her going into neighbourhoods and public spaces, documenting local conditions, speaking to people and questioning authorities. Her reporting has focused on issues that are experienced directly by ordinary people rather than remaining within the confines of official briefings.

Her videos on the fire that broke out in Malviya Nagar, Delhi may be viewed below:

According to Shaheen’s written statement, police personnel objected to the recording and attempted to take their phones. Women police personnel were called and the sisters were eventually put into a police vehicle. Shaheen says they were told they would be dropped home but were instead taken to Saket police station.

Detailed report may be read here.

A detailed complaint against named personnel

Shaheen’s written statement is specific about the alleged events at Saket police station. She names SHO Dinesh Kumar and women police personnel including Sonam Solanki and Renuka Chaudhary. She says the sisters were threatened with being put in the lock-up and that the SHO threatened to file multiple FIRs against them. She alleges that when she asked what offence they had committed and said they would cooperate, the threats continued.

She then alleges that Solanki demanded her phone. When Shaheen questioned the basis for taking it, she says the officer snatched it and slapped her. Nafisa was allegedly assaulted as well. The sisters say they were subsequently dragged through the station and taken upstairs. Shaheen alleges that they were pulled by their hair and clothes, slapped, kicked and beaten with a baton. She says she tried to seek help from the SHO before being taken upstairs.

In her interview with Alt News, published on September 7, Shaheen gave substantially the same account, saying that she and Nafisa were dragged upstairs and assaulted for an extended period. She described being slapped, kicked, having her hair pulled and being struck with a baton. Alt News also published photographs showing bruising on Nafisa’s leg and Shaheen’s upper arm.

The allegation of communal abuse

According to her written statement, an incoming call on her forcefully seized phone displayed the name “Mohd. Khan”. Shaheen alleges that the officer saw the caller ID, realised she was Muslim and then made a remark about giving her additional slaps and baton blows. Speaking to Alt News, Shaheen repeated the allegation, saying the officer’s behaviour changed after seeing the name and identifying her as Muslim. She said the assault then intensified and that other women constables were also instructed to beat the sisters.

Sabrangindia has spoken to both sisters and accessed a copy of the criminal complaint.

The sisters described the same sequence in their September 6 interview with Nous Network, titled “Is Being Muslim Our Biggest Crime?” They alleged that they were beaten for roughly 30–40 minutes, including through slaps, kicks, hair-pulling and baton blows, and said the treatment became more severe after the officer allegedly realised that they were Muslim. Nafisa also questioned the relevance of their religion during the alleged assault.

The CCTV evidence

The sisters have repeatedly pointed to CCTV footage as potentially decisive evidence. Shaheen’s written statement identifies the areas through which she says they were dragged and assaulted. In her interview with Alt News, she said CCTV cameras covered parts of the station, including the reception and corridor, and that this footage could establish what happened. She said the room where she alleges the later assault occurred did not have a camera, but the route leading to it did. Article 14 reported that Shaheen and Nafisa were demanding the preservation and release of CCTV footage from Saket police station. The report noted that the women believe the footage could help test their allegations against the police account.

What happened after the alleged assault?

According to Shaheen’s statement, the sisters eventually made their way back to the reception area, where Nafisa collapsed. Shaheen says the police did not arrange for them to contact their family or obtain immediate medical assistance. They eventually contacted relatives and called the police control room. The women were taken to hospital and underwent medical examination before returning to the police station to pursue their complaint.

The medical evidence is now an important part of the case. Videos circulated after the incident showed injuries on the women, while Alt News reported photographs of bruising on Nafisa’s leg and Shaheen’s arm. The Indian Express also reported that a video released by 4PM showed bruises and welts that the women attributed to the alleged assault.

Alt News also spoke to their colleague Neetu, who alleged that the women were not immediately assisted in obtaining an MLC and that police instead sought a compromise. She alleged that the women themselves called the police and went for the medical examination, returning to the station later that night. She further alleged that they remained there for hours without an FIR and were asked to remove two names from their complaint.

Newslaundry reported that Shaheen remained at the police station for hours demanding that an FIR be registered. The report said police accepted the complaint but did not register an FIR. At the time of the publishing of this report, there was still no FIR against the police personnel named by the sisters.

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The post Six Days On, Still No FIR: What happened to Shaheen and Nafisa Khan at Saket Police Station? appeared first on SabrangIndia.