Surprisingly, I vividly remember that the story of Nathuram Godse, the assassin of Gandhi, was narrated to us by a Brahmin teacher in my village. What struck me even more was the tone of his narration—it seemed to express a subtle sympathy for the killer of Bapu. Yet, that same teacher never took the time to tell us who Babasaheb Ambedkar was.

The entry of Dr. Ambedkar into my life came quite late. I cannot say exactly when I first heard his name, but my real engagement with his work began when I enrolled in a postgraduate programme in Political Science in Delhi.

Traditional Political Science syllabi gave very little space to Ambedkar’s ideas, although they readily imposed the political thoughts of Manu and Kautilya—both of whom were staunch upholders of the caste-based social order—on students. If someone wants to pursue research on Manu, they are free to do so. But I am still unable to understand the rationale behind compelling every student to study Manu at the undergraduate or postgraduate level in a course on Indian political thought.

It may be understandable that M. S. Golwalkar, one of the key ideologues of the Hindutva ideology, praised Manu as “Lord (Bhagwan)” and called him as “the greatest lawgiver of mankind.” However, the disproportionate space assigned to Manu in political science textbooks raises serious questions about the fragility of the secular character of India’s educational system. That Ambedkar—one of the staunchest critics of the caste-based social order and a vocal opponent of “Hindu Raj”—has remained neglected in the mainstream educational system and media should not come as a surprise to many.

My stay at Delhi’s two universities over a span of 11 years—two years at Jamia Millia Islamia and nine years at Jawaharlal Nehru University—brought me significantly closer to the thoughts and legacy of Babasaheb Ambedkar. In the classroom, our professors did make references to Ambedkar’s ideas, but I found myself unsatisfied with the way they interpreted and explained his work. I noticed that they had a vested interest in highlighting only certain aspects of Ambedkar while concealing others. The professors soon lost their influence over us when many of us realized that their discussions of Ambedkar inside the classroom and their actions outside were quite disconnected. For them, teaching Ambedkar, writing about him, publishing books, and getting projects in his name seemed more like career-building strategies. For many of us, however, Ambedkar was a ray of light—an inspiration to escape the darkness of an unequal social order. I began to look beyond the classroom and found that engaging with Ambedkarite activist-scholars at the university and those actively involved in Ambedkarite movements was far more fruitful than simply taking notes from careerist professors.

Since Ambedkar wrote in lucid prose, he was not particularly difficult to understand. Unlike many other politicians, he never neglected the importance of scholarship. He read, researched, and wrote until his last breath. The focus of his scholarship was not on fairy tales, nor was he interested in metaphysical or divine questions. As an organic intellectual, he wrote about the problems faced by the most marginalized sections of society—people whom the caste-based system did not even consider human, let alone treat as equals. Ambedkar’s writings, spread across thousands of pages, continue to serve as a torchlight for marginalized communities. Those who uphold the status quo are trying hard to appropriate Ambedkar, but they cannot bury the power and truth of his dozens of volumes of writings.

But unlike armchair scholars confined to the ivory towers of the establishment, Ambedkar believed that the process of thinking is intrinsically linked to action. In contrast to the so-called “objective” scholarship of the mainstream, his writings had a clear purpose and stood firmly with the downtrodden. He recognized that the cloak of “objectivity” and “neutrality” often serves to maintain the status quo and reinforces existing hegemonies. That is why he not only wrote but also acted. He agitated, and he penned. In Ambedkar’s philosophy, the process of thought and action-oriented programmes are inseparable. He was truly a “concerned” scholar and an organic politician.

In my understanding, Ambedkar belongs to the tradition of materialist-rationalist thoughts shaped by Buddhism, Kabir, and Jyotirao Phule. Consequently, he was deeply critical of metaphysical, idealist, Vedantic, and Brahminical frameworks for interpreting the world. Unlike Brahminical thinkers, Ambedkar did not shy away from confronting material reality. Nor did he resort to explaining concrete problems through metaphysical abstractions or the construction of myths. In contrast to the Brahminical scholarly tradition, he categorically rejected the notion of divinity and the role of supernatural beings.

Although he acknowledged the social significance of religion, his conception of it was radically different—his vision of religion excluded the presence of God. For Ambedkar, religion was not about ritual performance or appeasing a higher power; rather, it was a social space where marginalized communities could assert their dignity and forge collective solidarity.

In essence, Ambedkar deconstructed Brahminical myths and laid the groundwork for a new social order rooted in the ideals of equality, liberty, and fraternity. Throughout his life, he remained deeply uneasy with the idea of human beings surrendering—whether to divine forces or to fellow humans. For him, both the worship of gods and the veneration of heroic figures were equally unacceptable.

Ambedkar was a staunch advocate of equality in the political, social, and economic domains. Continuing the legacy of Buddha, Kabir, and Phule, he offered a scathing critique of the caste-based social order. As an iconoclast, he denounced the religion into which he was born and criticized the Hindu social order and its religious texts for perpetuating caste-based discrimination.

Since most of us are raised within a Brahminical social milieu, we are trained from childhood to perceive the caste hierarchy as “natural” and the prevailing social system as one that fosters “harmony” and “equilibrium.” From structural-functionalist scholars to most upper-caste leaders and intellectuals, there has long been a tendency to normalize and defend the caste order. However, the emergence of Dr. Ambedkar on the broader political stage began to challenge this entrenched narrative. His powerful call for the annihilation of the caste system resonated with millions who had long been treated as pariahs by the upper castes.

Ambedkar’s enduring contribution lies in his ability, much like a skilled doctor, to diagnose the deep-seated stagnation of Indian society. He prescribed a clear remedy: without the annihilation of caste, the achievement of political, social, and economic equality, and justice for women and minorities, the nation cannot truly progress.

While it is true that the mainstream Indian Left—whose leadership has largely been dominated by Brahmins and other upper castes—ignored Dr. Ambedkar and excluded Dalit leadership until the Ambedkarite movement brought him into public consciousness, this should not be used to validate the Hindutva narrative that portrays Ambedkar as an “enemy” of Marxism or socialism. Marxism and socialism are not monolithic ideologies; they are interpreted and shaped by prevailing parties or dominant leaders, and thus, no single definition is universally accepted. What matters is that Ambedkar engaged with Marxism on his own terms, expressing both agreement and disagreement with its dominant interpretations during his time.

Given that Marxism is a materialist philosophy that advocates for the removal of class-based inequality and the establishment of material equality, Ambedkar’s own work resonates strongly with Marxist principles. His efforts to organize the working class, his emphasis on eradicating economic inequality, and his commitment to a materialist, scientific, and rational worldview align him closely with Marxist ideals and practice.

However, Dr. Ambedkar differed from the dominant Marxist interpretation on the questions of class, the dictatorship of the proletariat, and the use of violence. Unlike mainstream Marxist thinkers, Ambedkar’s understanding of class emphasized the social identities of labourers and rejected the notion of the working class as a homogenous entity. His key contribution lay in highlighting the lack of solidarity among workers, despite their shared exploitation.

While Marxists called for unity among labourers, Ambedkar insisted that unity could not be achieved without first addressing the internal divisions created by caste. Upper-caste comrades were often eager to bring about revolution, overlooking the fundamental reality that caste—structured around graded inequality—stood in the way of genuine worker solidarity. Ambedkar argued that caste must first be annihilated to lay the foundation for a truly classless society. This view diverged sharply from that of upper-caste Marxists, who often saw the caste question as a distraction or even a threat to working-class unity. The mainstream Left’s continued failure to enact meaningful social transformation should prompt a serious re-examination of Ambedkar’s nuanced perspective on class and caste.

No doubt Ambedkar was a great scholar, a brilliant lawyer, and an influential Parliamentarian. The construction of his image as a legal scholar holding the Constitution of India has created the impression that Ambedkar only believed in legal and constitutional methods, and therefore, had no ideological connection with Marxists, who are often associated with violent means. To support such a claim, Ambedkar’s famous speech titled “Buddha or Karl Marx” is frequently cited.

It is true that Ambedkar acknowledged that both Buddhism and Marxism opposed private property. However, according to him, Buddhism diverged from Marxism on the question of violence. Ambedkar emphasized that Buddhism, unlike Marxism, rejected violence. That said, his critique of Marxism in this regard must be situated within the historical context of his time. It is a matter of historical record that some communist leaders, backed by the brute force of the state, resorted to violence in their attempt to establish a “class-less” society.

Supporters of such violent methods might argue that radical social change and reordering of class relations cannot be accomplished through purely constitutional and legal means, and that violence by the oppressed is not a violation but an act of liberation. While Ambedkar may have agreed with the goal of achieving a class-less society, he preferred to pursue a different strategy—one that did not involve violence. This belief was deeply held and unwavering, despite criticism from the Left, who at times dismissed Ambedkar as “at best a radical bourgeois leader.”

Ambedkar and his critics held different perspectives on these issues. However, the failures of various communist regimes—though not of Marxism as a philosophy—have led even some of his critics to reconsider his principled critique of violence. Importantly, Ambedkar’s rejection of violence does not imply a lack of belief in peaceful yet radical movements. His famous call to “educate, organise, and agitate” reflects a commitment to constitutional and legal methods, but not a confinement to them.

Consider the historic Mahad Conference of 1927, where Ambedkar led thousands of untouchables to assert their right to access a public tank that had been denied to them by caste-based restrictions. During this agitation, upper-caste aggressors attacked Ambedkar and his followers, yet he stood his ground. His editorials in Bahishkrit Bharat are a testament to his unwavering message urging Dalits not to accept caste discrimination and to rise in rebellion. In one editorial dated May 20, 1927, Ambedkar clearly stated that no one would grant Dalits their rights out of charity—they had to be prepared to fight for them. Is this not strong evidence that Ambedkar was far more than merely a legal scholar? His call to struggle against discrimination and exploitation, and his insistence on securing a life of dignity, align him with mass movements—and place him ideologically close to the Left.

However, one of my biggest attractions to Babasaheb Ambedkar is his theory of minority rights, which is inherently linked to the broader concept of social justice. In light of the rise of right-wing forces in India and elsewhere, Ambedkar’s ideas have become even more relevant today. As previously mentioned, Ambedkar was a staunch opponent of any dictatorial or authoritarian regime. He understood well that the suppression of liberty is often justified in the name of lofty goals, and he consistently cautioned marginalized communities not to fall prey to such narratives.

With the advent of democracy and the introduction of universal suffrage, Ambedkar recognized the transformative potential of the right to vote for bringing about social change. However, he did not believe that formal political equality alone was sufficient to ensure justice and equality in society. He argued that social reform, economic equality, and robust safeguards for minority rights were essential complements to political democracy. In other words, while equal voting rights represent a significant achievement, they are only truly effective when accompanied by social and economic justice, along with institutional protections for minorities.

Ambedkar frequently cautioned that democracy as an institution can only survive when social and economic equality is achieved. While he did not believe in using violent methods to bring about radical change, he also disagreed with liberals who believed that formal equality and a market-driven economic order would eventually lead to a just society. In various writings and speeches, Ambedkar highlighted the threat that class-based inequality poses to the sustainability of democracy.

Today, economic inequality in India has increased significantly compared to Ambedkar’s time. The ongoing crisis of Indian democracy and rising societal instability can largely be attributed to this widening economic gap. If Ambedkar were alive today, his foremost agenda would likely include launching mass movements for full employment, equitable access to quality public education, and comprehensive healthcare for all. He would also have been at the forefront of resisting reactionary and conservative forces that disguise themselves as nationalist. He would have strongly opposed the conflation of religion and politics, and any attempts to align the Indian state with the majority religion. No one denounced Hindu nationalism as forcefully as Ambedkar, who called it “the greatest calamity for this country.” Undoubtedly, he would have aligned himself with the Left.

Ambedkar’s democratic theory and his idea of social justice are closely linked with his concept of minority rights. He opposed authoritarianism and dictatorial regimes because he believed that one person, one party, one caste group, or one class cannot be entrusted with safeguarding the interests of all. He was acutely aware of the fact that ruling castes often attempt to serve their own interests under the guise of “nationalism,” dismissing the legitimate concerns of marginalised communities as “communalism.”

Perhaps he was among the first to expose the trope of nationalism versus communalism as a tool to silence the voices of the oppressed. His critique of nationalism does not imply support for communal politics. Rather, Ambedkar demonstrated how the category of nationalism has been co-opted by sections of the upper castes to present their own interests as “national interests”, while branding those who question this dominance as “communal.”

Ambedkar has also been unfairly accused of being a supporter of British imperialism. However, the historical reality is that he was not against India’s freedom. While the upper castes considered the mere transfer of power from British rulers to Indian elites as the attainment of Swaraj, Ambedkar pressed nationalist leaders to explicitly define the rights and safeguards that minorities would receive in post-Independence India. These upper-caste leaders often appeared “radical” in their political critique of British rule but remained deeply conservative and status quoist when issues concerning Dalits, Adivasis, lower castes, and religious minorities were raised.

Ambedkar’s critique of Indian nationalism stemmed from a commitment to social justice. Throughout the freedom struggle, he consistently raised the issue of caste-based inequality and worked to amplify the voices of the marginalised. He firmly believed that caste-based social order was a significant obstacle to fostering fraternity among Indians. Without addressing the caste question, he argued, the process of nation-building could not be complete.

In contrast, upper-caste leaders and their allies in the Hindutva camp often promoted an ascriptive theory of nationalism, asserting that the idea of the Indian nation has existed for thousands of years. In tracing the nation back to ancient times, Hindu right-wing ideologues positioned the Hindu community as the authentic nation and cast minorities and non-Hindus as outsiders. Since the minorities were not considered fully part of the Hindu nation, their patriotism was constantly questioned. As a display of loyalty, the Hindu right demanded that minorities abandon their distinct identities and assimilate into the dominant culture in order to receive validation as true patriots. Ambedkar was acutely aware of the dangers posed by religious and communal interpretations of nationalism and citizenship. That is why, he opposed strongly communal majority. That is why he strongly opposed attempts by upper-caste Hindus to forge a communal majority.

For Ambedkar, the antidote to the politics of communal majoritarianism—which posed a serious threat during his time and continues to endanger India’s social fabric—was the establishment of mechanisms to check authoritarian tendencies and institutionalize safeguards for minorities. One of the greatest threats to democracy, in his view, was the concentration of power. In other words, Ambedkar was a strong opponent of absolute power and an ardent advocate of power-sharing among communities.

As a true democrat, Ambedkar was disheartened by the suppression of opposition voices during Nehru’s regime. While numerous books celebrate Nehru’s democratic credentials and openness to dissent, little attention is paid to the fact that he dismissed the first democratically elected communist government in Kerala, played a key role in the centralization of power, and presided over a Parliament that lacked an official Leader of the Opposition until 1967—during the peak of the Congress system. Ambedkar himself noted that he was not granted his ministry of choice in Nehru’s cabinet, even as some ministers were assigned multiple portfolios. Today, under BJP rule, the marginalization of opposition voices and the stifling of dissent has intensified manifold. That is why Ambedkar’s unwavering commitment to defending dissent and opposition remains profoundly relevant in today’s political climate. Ambedkar’s critique of hero-worship also offers a powerful lens through which to understand the rise of populist right-wing leaders. We still await a critical analysis of Narendra Modi’s rise through the lens of Ambedkar’s political thought.

Ambedkar was deeply pained to witness the Congress Party using its own Dalit leaders to silence him whenever he raised his voice. Today, the BJP has perfected the art of delegitimizing authentic Dalit leadership by grooming its own representatives through the ideological apparatus of the Hindutva laboratory. Consequently, while Dalits are now nearly proportionally represented in legislative bodies, most of these leaders—elected through joint electorates and reliant on their party’s backing—tend to remain silent or toe the party line on critical issues affecting their communities.

It is important to remember that Ambedkar strongly demanded a separate electorate for the Depressed Classes during the Round Table Conference, a demand that the British Government ultimately granted. However, he was compelled to give it up following Gandhi’s fast. He observed that authentic Dalit voices often struggle to garner support from both mainstream political parties and caste Hindu voters, resulting in their continued marginalization.

It is unfortunate that most mainstream scholars of India’s electoral system rarely acknowledge the structural inequality inherent in the first-past-the-post system. There is little advocacy for proportionate and effective minority representation, a demand that Dr. Ambedkar passionately championed. While many European countries have embraced proportional representation for minorities, Indian intellectuals often take pride in pointing out the shortcomings of other nations rather than engaging in introspection and learning from successful democratic models to advocate for reform at home.

While Ambedkar contributed significantly to the shaping of democracy, the safeguards for the interests and rights of minorities were especially close to his heart. It is important to note that the term minority, for Ambedkar, was not confined to religious minorities alone. He defined minorities broadly to include socially discriminated groups. According to Ambedkar, the category of minority applies not only to religious communities such as Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, and Parsis, but also to Dalits and Adivasis.

Several political scientists have later classified minorities into types such as religious, linguistic, caste-based, and tribal (Adivasi) minorities. Ambedkar believed that the true measure of a successful democracy lies in how well it protects the interests and rights of its minorities. He was acutely aware that, in a democratic polity, governments are formed based on majority support—meaning that minorities are often excluded from power. To address this structural inequality, Ambedkar warned against the creation of a communal majority.

Today, the danger Babasaheb foresaw has become increasingly apparent. The deliberate strategy of stoking communal tensions and demonizing the Muslim minority as the “other” in Indian society is designed to unite the majority community through a shared religious identity and thereby forge a communal majority. From Ambedkar’s perspective, the formation of a communal majority is anathema to democracy, as it inevitably leads to the suppression of minority rights.

Keeping in view these dangers, Ambedkar clearly stated that a government formed through majority rule should not be regarded as holy or sacrosanct. Speaking at the Annual Session of the All-India Scheduled Castes Federation held in Bombay on May 6, 1945, Ambedkar said, “Majority Rule is untenable in theory and unjustifiable in practice. A majority community may be conceded a relative majority of representation but it can never claim an absolute majority.”

In simple terms, Ambedkar argued that while the formation of a government may occur through majority support, it must never overlook the necessity of respecting the consent of the minority. For this reason, Ambedkar opposed the enactment of any law that lacked the approval of minority communities, warning that such disregard could provoke rebellion. Law after law directly affecting minorities—especially the Muslim minority—is being enacted by the Modi-led BJP Government without seeking their consent. In fact, the recent enactment of the Waqf Amendment Bill (2025) is widely seen as a majoritarian assault on minority rights.

On multiple occasions, Ambedkar demanded both proportionate and effective representation for minorities. It is important to note that while proportionate representation is necessary, it is not sufficient. The term effective is crucial in Ambedkar’s framework for safeguarding minority rights. Once the principle of effective representation is acknowledged, it essentially grants the minority a form of veto power. This veto power serves as an assurance that minorities need not fear majority rule, as no law would be passed and no policy formulated without their equal participation and consent.

In other words, the success of democracy lies in ensuring that minorities feel confident, secure, and prosperous. Ambedkar, the Chairman of the Constitution Drafting Committee, sought to give the country a strong and just constitution, and he did his utmost to safeguard the interests of weaker sections within it. However, Ambedkar was also aware that, without the active participation of minorities and other marginalized groups in policymaking, even a good law would not ensure justice. To emphasize his point, Ambedkar argued that if marginalized communities are included in decision-making processes, they can interpret even a bad law to deliver justice. But if they are excluded from executing policies, even the best of laws will fail to serve their interests.

One of Babasaheb Ambedkar’s greatest achievements was securing constitutional, institutional, and legal protection for the policy of social justice and reservations—thus removing it from the whims of any individual, whether in the executive or the judiciary. Ambedkar understood that justice could not be achieved without addressing gender inequality and legally granting Hindu women equal rights. This is why he pushed hard for the passage of the Hindu Code Bill in its undiluted form.

No one understood better than Ambedkar the suffering of Hindu women during the post-Buddhist era, particularly under the social codes of Manu, which stripped them of their rights and severely restricted their mobility. As a feminist, Ambedkar recognized that the caste system was perpetuated by controlling the sexuality of Hindu women and prohibiting inter-caste marriages. He aimed to eliminate these social evils and liberate women through the Hindu Code Bill. Unfortunately, the Hindu Right—both within the Congress party and outside it—conspired against him. When he found himself isolated, Ambedkar was forced to resign. To this day, Ambedkar’s mission to liberate Hindu women remains unfulfilled.

As is evident today, the philosophy and goals of Dr. Ambedkar are more relevant than ever before. However, the struggle for emancipation from the caste-based social order can only succeed if broader solidarity is forged. I find that Ambedkar’s thoughts and programs align more closely with Leftist agendas. When I use the term “Left,” I refer to the broader Marxist and socialist philosophy. While I acknowledge that Ambedkar did not agree with every aspect of mainstream Marxist and socialist interpretations, that does not mean Ambedkar—and by extension, Ambedkarites—are not natural allies of the Left. Here, the term “Left” does not refer to any specific political party. Nor am I ignoring the reality that leadership within mainstream Left parties in India has historically been dominated by upper castes, who often neglected caste issues and hesitated to elevate Dalit leaders to top positions. Nevertheless, the historical failures of certain Left organizations should not become a permanent obstacle to an alliance between Ambedkarite and Leftist forces.

That is why, for me, my Ambedkar is a Leftist Ambedkar.

Dr. Abhay Kumar holds a PhD in Modern History from the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His forthcoming book explores Muslim Personal Law. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com

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The support for this Bill from Hindutva forces is hardly surprising, given their well-documented hostility toward minorities. However, what is deeply unsettling is the complicity of several so-called secular parties. Their endorsement of the Bill exposes the emptiness of their professed commitment to minority rights and pluralism. Their secular rhetoric now stands exposed as little more than a deceptive smokescreen, carefully crafted to mask their communal politics.

With the passage of this Bill, the Muslim community is compelled to reassess its long-standing political trust in these so-called secular parties. It is now imperative for them to distinguish between genuine allies and those who betray them under the guise of friendship.

The Waqf Amendment Bill serves multiple objectives, none of which align with principles of justice or fairness. First, the Bill creates an avenue for widespread encroachment and plunder, effectively making it easier for government agencies and private entities to seize Waqf properties. Second, it significantly weakens the Waqf Tribunal, transferring excessive power into the hands of bureaucrats—an alarming violation of fundamental jurisprudential principles. Most shockingly, the government, which is itself a party to numerous disputes over Waqf land, has now positioned itself as the adjudicator in these very conflicts. This blatant conflict of interest constitutes a grave miscarriage of justice.

Third, the Bill may impose majoritarian supremacy. It sends an unambiguous message to the Muslim community: either submit to the will of the majority or risk further marginalization. Fourth, the Bill threatens to erode constitutional protections granted to minorities. It signals a broader trend—the gradual dismantling of constitutional safeguards for minority rights, including protections related to cultural identity and personal laws.

The judiciary, instead of acting as an independent arbiter and guardian of the Constitution, has increasingly succumbed to executive pressures. Rather than upholding constitutional principles, it has become a silent spectator—if not an outright enabler—of majoritarianism. The Babri Masjid-Ram Temple verdict stands as a glaring example of this judicial capitulation.

Fifth, the Bill may serve as a warning to all marginalized social groups. Its passage can be interpreted not merely as an assault on Muslims but as a broader threat to all minorities and weaker sections of society. It signals that their rights and properties are no longer as secure as they once were and may be seized under various pretexts to serve majoritarian agendas and profit-driven motives.

The Sachar Committee Report, commissioned by the Prime Minister, had provided crucial recommendations on how Waqf properties could be better managed for the welfare of the poor and marginalized. It emphasized that reclaiming encroached Waqf properties and improving their administration could generate substantial funds to support socio-economic upliftment. The report advocated for technological advancements, expert oversight, and even the establishment of a specialized UPSC cadre to manage Waqf assets. Yet, rather than implementing these progressive measures, the government has chosen a path that appears to facilitate the plundering of Waqf properties—going so far as to appoint non-Muslim members to oversee assets donated by believing Muslims for charitable purposes.

This betrayal by so-called secular parties has left the minority community in shock and despair. Since the Nehru era, Waqf properties have been systematically looted, but now this plunder appears to have been granted legal sanction. Other minority and marginalized communities must take heed—every common property could become a potential target for exploitation.

In these trying times, patience, wisdom, and strategic action are essential. Rash decisions driven by emotion will only deepen the crisis. Rather than allowing ourselves to be divided over petty issues, we must prioritize broader unity with other oppressed sections of society. This crucial moment also serves as a litmus test for genuine secular forces—where do they stand in this critical hour?

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar repeatedly warned that democracy cannot survive without safeguarding the rights of minorities—whether religious, caste-based, or Adivasi. Today, one can only imagine how Babasaheb, the chief architect of the Indian Constitution, would react to this assault on the very principles he enshrined. As someone born into the majority community, I hang my head in shame at this brazen display of majoritarianism.

But the bigger question remains: Will India continue down the path of majoritarian dominance, or will it reclaim its constitutional commitment to justice and equality? The future will depend on our actions. Remember, rights are not granted as charity—they are won through struggle. Similarly, the weakening of movements led by marginalized communities threatens to undo their hard-earned gains. Political processes are dynamic, and to prevent further setbacks, we must act now—peacefully and democratically.

(Dr. Abhay Kumar holds a PhD in Modern History from the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His forthcoming book explores Muslim Personal Law. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com)

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

The post The Waqf Amendment Bill: A majoritarian assault on minority rights appeared first on SabrangIndia.

History bears witness to the fact that Islam has contributed several positive changes throughout human history, and I firmly believe that it still offers valuable lessons to the world. My conviction stems from both my readings on Islam and my close association with many Muslim friends. I have not only read the Holy Quran but have also lived among Muslims for years. Based on my studies and personal experiences, I can confidently say that much of the propaganda against Islam and Muslims is entirely baseless and politically motivated. However, that is not the focus here. My intention is to share my experience with Eid.

During my stay in the Sabzi Bagh area of Patna, I had the opportunity to observe and participate in the Eid festival. Sabzi Bagh is a densely populated area on the banks of the river Ganga, about half a mile east of the historic Gandhi Maidan. This large ground, famous for hosting powerful speeches from leaders like Jayaprakash Narayan to Lalu Prasad Yadav—speeches that have shaken the foundations of Indian politics—is considered the “lung” of Patna, which grows more congested by the day. The Sabzi Bagh area has both Hindu and Muslim populations, but the specific location of the office of Qaumi Tanzeem, one of Bihar’s leading newspapers, is predominantly inhabited by Muslims. It was during my first visit to Patna and the office of the Qaumi Tanzeem that I saw Sabzi Bagh. 

My birthplace is Raxaul, located on the India-Nepal border in the East Champaran district of Bihar. After passing my matriculation, albeit with a third division, my family showed little interest in supporting my further education. My elder brother entered into a partnership with one of his Marwari friends to open a coal shop and asked me to manage it on his behalf. I would open the shop in the morning and stay there until evening, selling coal. However, my passion for reading did not fade, even though I was cut off from formal education. I spent my free time at the shop reading newspapers and magazines. During that period, I learned Urdu with the help of a Maulvi from Mau (Uttar Pradesh), who worked as a muezzin at an Islampur mosque across the Sariswa River in Raxaul. He used to visit my locality to teach the Quran to Muslim students, and he kindly accepted my request to teach me Urdu alongside them. Later, my proficiency in Urdu improved with the guidance of other teachers, notably Amin Saheb from Islampur and Maulana Nasrullah, who ran a chicken shop on Post Office Road in Raxaul.

I quickly learned Urdu and gradually began reading Urdu newspapers. At the time, my knowledge of politics was limited, and my interests were mostly focused on sports. A few months into reading these papers, I felt a strong urge as a writer to express myself. I wrote a short piece on cricket in Urdu and sent it to Qaumi Tanzeem for publication. To my delight, the newspaper not only published my article but also included my picture, which filled me with joy. This marked the beginning of my connection with Qaumi Tanzeem—first as a reader, and then as a writer.

In addition to submitting articles, mostly about sports, I worked as a correspondent for the Urdu daily for a long time, covering Raxaul and its surrounding areas. As I ventured deeper into the field of writing, I realized that my knowledge was limited. In my pursuit of learning, I re-enrolled in formal education. I passed my intermediate exams and decided to move to Patna to pursue a degree in English, hoping to improve my English skills and become a better journalist. One of my seniors convinced me that to excel as a journalist, even in Urdu media, mastering English was essential.

Although I was able to secure admission at A.N. College, Patna, in English Honors, the biggest challenge I faced was finding accommodation. The college had no hostel, and I did not have the financial means to pay for room rent. It was during this difficult time that I sought help from the editors of Qaumi Tanzeem. Ashraf Fareed and the late Ajmal Fareed, the editors of the newspaper, were kind enough to allow me to share a room on the office premises without charging rent. I lived in that room for four years, sharing it with Shabbir Bhai, the office peon. Our room was also the dumping zone for the leftover paper. In our room, scrap paper was also stored. During the newspaper printing process, some paper would be left over from the paper rolls, which would be kept in our room for a month and then sold at the end of the month. At the beginning of the month, a bundle would arrive, and by the end of the month, a large part of the room would be filled with a mountain of paper. Many times, we feared that the pile of paper might fall on us. It was during my stay in Sabzi Bagh that I had the opportunity to participate in Eid celebrations. 

At the time, I worked at the Qaumi Tanzeem office. My responsibilities included translating English stories into Hindi, proofreading, and even attending press conferences. Since I was pursuing my graduation alongside working, I used to help out in the office whenever I had free time. I often found myself looking forward to iftar more eagerly than my Muslim colleagues. The aroma of pakoras, the fragrance of ripe fruits, and the vivid redness of Rooh-Afza would make my mouth water. As a bachelor living on my own and cooking my own meals, the prospect of enjoying delicious food always excited me. When the staff sat down to break their fast, I was invited to join them, just like any other rozedar. I noticed that the editors and other staff members would often insist that I eat more, treating me with extra warmth and hospitality.

During iftar, I never felt for a moment that I was an outsider. After iftar, when the believers would offer namaz, I would return to the office. No one ever insisted that I join them for prayer, nor did they make any comments about my religious identity. In fact, my editors and other staff members would ask if I had performed pooja during Hindu festivals. However, as I grew older, my interest in rituals gradually faded. When I told them I hadn’t performed any, they would suggest that I should have. I realized that while my Muslim colleagues were deeply connected to their faith, they also respected the beliefs of others. Years later, when I read the Holy Quran, I discovered that, contrary to widespread propaganda, it strongly supports tolerance, pluralism, and harmony. Consider these words from the Quran: “For you is your religion, and for me is my religion”.

As Eid approached, the market’s hustle and bustle intensified. The shops in Sabzi Bagh, illuminated by countless bulbs, stayed open late into the night. New stalls popped up on the footpaths, making it hard for pedestrians to navigate. Various tea stalls emerged, and shops selling delicious dates were everywhere. Golden, fried sewai were stacked in baskets for sale. Shops selling kurtas and perfumes also opened. Late into the night and into the early morning, Sabzi Bagh stayed alive. The area was decorated like a bride, and every night felt like Diwali. In the evenings, I would roam the alleys of Sabzi Bagh, sipping tea and chatting with friends. One of my favourite spots was the tea stall in front of the Bankipur post office. Unlike the night, the day had a deserted look until noon. The food-selling hotels would hang curtains in front of their shops, and behind them, those who did not fast would sit and eat. The curtain was put up as a mark of respect for those who were fasting. 

Since charity holds a significant place in Islam, many needy, destitute, and poor people would come to Sabzi Bagh during the holy month of Ramadan, hoping to receive some financial assistance. At the Qaumi Tanzeem office, an elderly blind man used to visit and stay for a few days during Ramadan. He would beg for money in the evenings. On several occasions, I saw him sitting on one of the porches, carefully counting his coins. By the end of the month, when he prepared to return home, he had collected a substantial amount in charity.

The day before Eid, the staff members would receive Eidi, a small monetary gift from the late editor, Ajmal Farid. No one knew exactly how much anyone else received. Before leaving the office, everyone would meet ‘Jammu’ Sir, as Ajmal Farid was affectionately called, in his chamber. He would discreetly take some money from his pocket, place it into the recipient’s pocket, embrace them, and wish them “Eid Mubarak.” I, too, eagerly awaited my turn. Ajmal Farid would slip a few hundred-rupee notes into my pocket and hug me, repeating, “Eid Mubarak.” Before I left his chamber, he would invite me to his home for food, as his house was located close to the office.

My preparation for Eid mostly involved washing my clothes and getting them ironed. I would also try to stay fresh for the occasion. On Eid day, I didn’t miss the opportunity to visit my editor’s house. There, we would be treated to a variety of delicious foods, many of which I had never tasted before. They gave me special attention, urging me to eat more and proudly introducing me to other guests, saying I was very good at Urdu.

In the evening, I was invited by the late Khursheed Hashmi to his house near Rukanpura, close to Rajapul in Panta. Khursheed Hashmi was from Gaya and worked as the senior-most journalist at Qaumi Tanzeem. He was responsible for deciding the main stories for the front page of the daily. A PhD in Urdu literature, Hashmi was a journalist with a clear perspective. While many journalists at Qaumi Tanzeem imitated the leading Hindi newspapers, he would privately express his frustration to me, saying that a good journalist develops their own perspective. He often remarked that what might be a top story for a leading newspaper doesn’t necessarily have to be a leading story for us. He emphasized that a journalist should never be swayed by the big media houses and should instead trust their own research and observations.

Khursheed Saheb was one of the best journalists I have ever met. Unfortunately, it’s a sad reality in the media industry that hundreds of dedicated journalists like Khursheed Hashmi, working for smaller media houses, are often underpaid and their contributions remain unrecognized. During my time at Qaumi Tanzeem, I grew close to him. He would often visit my room to have tea that I made. When he returned home, I would walk with him to Gandhi Maidan after 10 p.m., from where he would hire an auto to his place. Almost every day, I accompanied him to Gandhi Maidan to see him off, which gave me the opportunity to discuss pressing issues with him.

On the day of Eid, he used to wait for me, and we would take our meals together in the evening. He lived in a one-room flat in Rukanpura, and I would spend hours sitting with his family, talking. I stayed in Patna for several years before leaving for Delhi to pursue higher education. Each year, I made it a point to visit his house on Eid. I remember the day I was leaving Patna—he came to see me off at Gandhi Maidan bus station. Since then, whenever I visited Patna, I never missed an opportunity to meet Khursheed Saheb and visit the Qaumi Tanzeem office. Even today, some residents of Sabzi Bagh recognize me and greet me warmly. However, I heard the heartbreaking news that Khursheed Saheb passed away during the COVID-19 pandemic, leaving behind his family without any source of income. Since Urdu newspapers rarely offer social security to their staff, his family had to vacate their house in Patna and return to their hometown. His son, an engineer, has been trying to find a job.

Whenever Eid approaches, I reflect on my time at Qaumi Tanzeem. My experience of Eid is a testament to the inclusive nature of festivals in our society, celebrated by all, regardless of religious affiliation. However, I am deeply concerned about a segment of hardliners attempting to divide festivals along religious lines and communalize public religious spaces. Religious faith is a personal matter, while the celebration of festivals and the organization of religious events are social activities that thrive on the equal participation of all sections of society. These cherished memories of Sabzi Bagh are engraved in my heart and mind. When I reflect on them, I see the absurdity of the divisive politics surrounding festivals and the vilification of minority communities.

(The author holds a PhD in Modern History from the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His book on Muslim Personal Law is forthcoming. Email:debatingissues@gmail.com)

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On Monday (March 9), Rane announced his government’s policy to issue Malhar certification to Hindu vendors and said, “A new concept has been launched for jhatka mutton in the form of Malhar certification for the Hindu community of Maharashtra. This will help Hindus identify mutton shops owned by Hindus, who will sell unadulterated meat. The initiative will empower Hindu traders, and I urge Hindus to refrain from buying mutton from shops that do not carry the Malhar certification” (The Indian Express, March 10, 2025).

At first glance, this certification practice appears anti-Muslim, as it lays the groundwork for an economic boycott of the Muslim minority. In reality, it imposes a form of economic apartheid on Muslims, further segregating them from the mainstream economy.

However, while this policy is promoted as an initiative to economically empower Khatik caste members, who belong to the Dalit community, it ultimately reinforces the Brahminical social order. By endorsing caste-based occupations, it stifles opportunities for upward mobility and entrenches the caste hierarchy. Such a policy grossly violates the principles of equality and secularism enshrined in the Indian Constitution and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR).

For example, Article 16 of the Constitution addresses Fundamental Rights and guarantees “equality of opportunity for all citizens in matters relating to employment or appointment to any office under the State.” Similarly, Article 16 forbids the state from discriminating against citizens based on “religion, race, caste, sex, descent, place of birth,” etc.

The UDHR, which was adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations on December 10, 1948, to which India is a signatory, is also against discrimination based on religion. As stated in Article 2 of the UDHR, “Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status.”

It is unfortunate that the official web portal designed to issue ‘Jhatka’ meat certificates is carrying forward the Hindutva agenda of spreading anti-Muslim propaganda. The web portal (accessed on March 12) introduces itself by stating that “Malhar is a certified platform for Jhatka mutton and chicken vendors. It ensures that goat and sheep meat, sacrificed according to Hindu religious traditions, is fresh, clean, free from saliva contamination, and not mixed with any other animal meat. This meat is available exclusively through Hindu Khatik community vendors. Therefore, we encourage everyone to purchase mutton only from vendors certified by Malhar.”

The web portal deliberately uses phrases like “free from saliva contamination” and “not mixed with any other animal meat.” These terms perpetuate the Hindutva propaganda that Muslims deliberately contaminate meat, edible products, and drinks with their “saliva” before handing them over to Hindus. Their anti-Muslim narrative, claiming that Muslim meat-sellers add beef to mutton to hurt the religious sentiments of Hindus and corrupt their religion, is now being reinforced by official policy.

These words feed into the Hindutva propaganda of “spit-jihad” which accuses Muslims of contaminating food. Several BJP-ruled states have recently introduced draconian guidelines to prevent so-called cases of “spit-jihad,” a term invented to further isolate Muslim vendors, restaurant owners, and traders.

It appears that under the guise of maintaining hygiene and ensuring cleanliness, Hindutva governments are enforcing a new regime of untouchability on the minority Muslim community and Dalits. The larger strategy of the Hindu right is to increase anti-Muslim prejudice in society and portray Muslims as a threat to the Hindu community.

The Hindutva campaign for ‘Jhatka’ meat is less about respecting religious sentiment and more about imposing economic apartheid on Muslims. ‘Jhatka’ is a method of slaughtering animals for meat by a single blow of the sword. In contrast, Muslims use the ‘Halal’ method, which involves cutting the animal’s throat with a sharp knife in one stroke while reciting the name of Allah.

While different methods of slaughtering animals have long been prevalent in society, a large portion of the population didn’t pay much attention to the method used. However, the rise of communal politics has made the ‘Halal’ versus ‘Jhatka’ meat debate a polarizing issue. Now, Hindutva forces are exploiting it to enforce an economic boycott of Muslims and perpetuate the caste-based Brahminical social order.

The Khatik community, a Scheduled Caste, is socially, educationally, and economically disadvantaged. Many Khatik community members work as labourers, and some run small meat and chicken shops to earn their livelihood. By promoting ‘Jhatka’ meat, the BJP government in Maharashtra is attempting to woo the Khatik community.

However, the dark side of this policy is that the method of ‘Jhatka’ meat has been tied to sacrifices performed “according to Hindu religious traditions.” The consequence of such a policy is the further Hinduization of the Khatik community and the reinforcement of caste-based hereditary occupations. According to the website, the certificates for ‘Jhatka’ meat are issued “exclusively” to “Hindu Khatik community vendors.” Notably, the primary identity of the Khatik as Dalit and Ambedkarite has been overshadowed by the term “Hindu.”

Two critical issues are involved here. First, how can the State launch a scheme that includes or excludes applicants based on religion? This seems to be a clear violation of the secular ideals of the Constitution, and the judiciary should examine its legal validity.

Second, Babasaheb Dr. B.R. Ambedkar strongly opposed the caste system because it restricts social mobility and assigns individuals an occupation based on their caste, in gross violation of the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Ambedkar, therefore, advocated for the annihilation of the caste system, not only because it oppresses Dalits, lower castes, and women, but also because it contributes to the backwardness of the country by creating a “division of labourers.” The Brahminical caste-based division of labour, which Babasaheb opposed throughout his life, is being reinforced in his own land, and every Ambedkarite and democratically minded person must come forward to oppose it.

(Dr. Abhay Kumar holds a PhD in Modern History from the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His book on Muslim Personal Law is forthcoming. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com)

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

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On his birth anniversary, I would like to share my review of Madhok’s controversial book, Indianisation: What, Why and How, published in 1970. Madhok wrote this book three years before his expulsion from the party, which, according to L. K. Advani, was due to his “inflated ego” (Organiser, 1973: 13). Another reason for his expulsion was his public criticism of the party’s perceived leftward drift in economic policies. According to Madhok, the Jana Sangh’s defeats in the 1971 and 1972 elections were a direct result of this shift (Jaffrelot, 1966: 236). Madhok is also known for his role in movements advocating the full integration of Jammu and Kashmir with India, particularly through the formation of the Praja Parishad Party. Beyond politics, he also had an academic career, teaching history at the University of Delhi.

The concept of Indianisation has a long intellectual history, with some of its philosophical underpinnings tracing back to 19th-century religious revivalist movements that sought to associate ‘Hindustan’ with ‘Hindi’ and ‘Hindu’ identity. These tendencies were shaped by evolving power dynamics, particularly with the advent of the colonial British Raj. The British Raj initiated the processes of census-taking and enumeration in the second half of the 19th century, leading to the emergence of rigid identities. Additionally, the colonial historical construction of India’s past contributed to the portrayal of Hindus as the original inhabitants of the country, while Muslims were depicted as “invaders” and “foreigners.”

This notion was later adopted by the Hindu right to argue that minorities, particularly Muslims, posed a threat to the idea of the modern nation-state. As a response, several scholars, from Bankim and Savarkar to Golwalkar and Madhok, proposed ways to counter this perceived threat. In this book, Madhok argues for the Indianisation of those who, according to him, are not fully loyal to India and have “extra-territorial loyalties.” Unsurprisingly, Muslims are at the top of Madhok’s list, along with communists, Congress members, and other Indian politicians.

It was the Jana Sangh, during its plenary session in Kanpur in 1952, under the presidency of Shyama Prasad Mukherjee—whom Madhok worked with for many years—that first passed a resolution on Indianisation. In his work, Madhok was merely drawing upon this resolution. However, one might ask: why did he publish Indianisation in 1970?

One could argue that this book, representing the conservative forces within the party, was written to criticize the Jana Sangh for not being sufficiently critical of state control over the economy during Indira Gandhi’s regime. At the same time, media reports suggested that Madhok’s differences with senior leaders such as Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Nanaji Deshmukh, and L. K. Advani were growing. It is, therefore, plausible that Madhok felt compelled to reassert the Jana Sangh’s hardcore policies at a time when he was losing his grip on the party. In doing so, he likely sought to demonstrate that its current leadership had drifted away from its core ideology.

It is in this context that Madhok placed his views on Indianisation. According to him, “Indianisation, therefore, is nothing but the inculcation of a strong sense of nationalism in all Indians. It is neither something new nor anything sinister. It is something to which no patriotic Indian worth his name can take exception. Those who oppose it either do not understand what India and her heritage is or they deliberately want to create confusion and scare in some groups for political and partisan ends” (Madhok 1970: 18).

For Madhok, Indianisation is integral to nationalism. He is unwilling to accept the idea that such a process has any political motivation. Like any right-wing leader, he advocates the process of homogenisation as entirely natural. He refuses to acknowledge that society is, in fact, heterogeneous and that the right-wing agenda actively seeks homogenization—often at the cost of diversity and social harmony.

Similarly, Madhok is deliberately ignorant of the fact that the idea of nationalism is not independent of history. Like many right-wing and conservative thinkers, he attempts to discipline citizens into becoming adequately nationalist and loyal to the country. The internal divisions within society and the realities of material inequality are conveniently ignored to construct an artificially monolithic community. As he puts it, “Nationalism is not a question of political loyalties only. It demands a feeling of attachment and sense of pride for the country’s heritage and culture as well… Respect for the National Flag, National Anthem, National Language or Languages, National Heroes, and Great men, National ethos and values are part of nationalism. Aliens also can be absorbed into the national mainstream through inculcation of these feelings of oneness and identification with the national homeland, its culture and heritage” (Ibid).

It is ironic that Hindutva forces frequently distribute certificates of nationalism and loyalty to the country, yet they fail to critically examine themselves. During the anti-colonial struggle, they were either collaborating with the British Raj or disrupting national unity by stoking Hindu-versus-Muslim tensions. While they have often accused minorities, secularists, and leftists of being anti-national, historical reality shows that they themselves have criticized the Indian Constitution and the national flag, favouring the celebration of so-called Hindu culture and symbols over India’s secular national identity.

There are other critical questions that Madhok and other Hindutva leaders are not honest enough to address. For example, if he does not consider a person—be it a minority or a leftist—to be a nationalist unless they take pride in the “country’s heritage and culture,” then how can he and his fellow members of the RSS, Jana Sangh, and BJP claim to be champions of nationalism when the symbols of Hindutva nationalism exclude large sections of Indians—women, Dalits, lower castes, minorities, Tamils, and others outside the Hindi heartland?

It is clear that Madhok’s concept of Indian-ness is rooted in his narrow vision of nationalism. According to this perspective, anyone who does not conform to his own version of a Vedic, Brahminical conception of India is deemed anti-national. Once an individual or community is labelled as anti-national, the disciplinary process of Indianisation is imposed upon them. In other words, for Madhok, national culture is not based on secularism, pluralism, or unity in diversity. Instead, it is deeply sectarian, communal, exclusionary, and reactionary.

For Madhok, the canon is Brahminical/Vedic culture. He disregards the fact that India’s history extends beyond the Vedic period. The Adivasi cosmology, the Dravidian languages, Tamil culture, and the philosophical footprints of Mahavir, Buddha, Guru Nanak, and Kabir—who all challenged Brahminical traditions—are visible across the subcontinent. However, Madhok is so sectarian that he refuses to look beyond the life of the “Vedic Aryans,” who, according to him, provided the “substratum of Indian culture and civilisation” (Ibid: pp. 6-7). Here, one can observe his attempt to equate the essence of India with Vedic Aryan culture and conflate it with Hindu identity.

Instead of acknowledging that his thesis on Indianisation is sectarian, Madhok blames liberal, democratic, and Marxist forces for having “mounted a bitter attack” on his work. He argued that critics of Indianisation had misunderstood the concept. As he stated, “…they have been misinterpreting Indianisation as a means to eliminate religious minorities and re-convert Muslims and others to their ancestral faiths and faith or faiths” (Ibid: 19). In contrast, he defended his stance, asserting, “Indianisation aims at making every citizen to India a better Indians, a good patriot and a nationalist” (Ibid: 20).

As is evident once again, the concept of Indianisation serves as a tool in the hands of Hindutva forces to discipline minorities and other marginalized communities, compelling them to become adequately Indianised. This process leaves very little space for marginalized communities to assert their identities and fight for their legitimate rights. Simply put, Indianisation functions as a means to silence these communities and assimilate them into Brahminical culture under the pretext of making them loyal citizens.

For Madhok, the key terms are “good patriot” and “nationalist.” This raises an important question: what, in his view, prevents certain people from being considered good patriots and nationalists? Madhok provides several reasons. To begin with, he expresses concern over the rise of “regionalism,” arguing that “regional consciousness began to take better of national consciousness” (Ibid: 26). He is particularly critical of what he describes as the “sinister game” behind the creation of linguistic states. In other words, Madhok seeks to attack the federal structure of the Constitution and pave the way for a more centralized state.

It is important to remember that Hindutva forces have long championed a unitary state and often feel threatened by the rise of regional movements. Their discomfort with federalism underscores their broader ideological commitment to a homogenized, centralized form of governance that suppresses linguistic and cultural diversity. For Madhok, only a strong central authority could hold the nation together, and any move toward decentralization was viewed with suspicion. Yet, they failed to acknowledge even the very first article of the Indian Constitution, which defines India as a “Union of States.”

Madhok’s discomfort with regional identities is evident in his assertion: “Most Indians today are Punjabis or Bengalis or Malayalis first and Indians only next or never” (Ibid: 27). It would be a mistake to assume that such views are confined to a particular section of conservative/Hindutva forces in India. Even today, similar sentiments persist elsewhere. A notable example is the 2007 Bollywood film Chak De! India, which revolves around the Indian women’s hockey team. The film echoes these anxieties when the team’s coach, played by Shah Rukh Khan, laments that the players introduce themselves by their regional identities rather than their national identity.

Moving away from “regionalism,” Madhok discusses the danger of “casteism,” which, in his view, further justifies the need for Indianisation. As he puts it, “…casteism is tending to become as great if not greater danger to unity as regionalism. Today most Indians are either Jats, or Brahmins or Rajputs or Harijans first and Indians afterwards” (Ibid: 30). As is evident here, Madhok’s analysis of caste comes from a top-down perspective. Upper-caste scholars and elite leaders often lament that caste identity remains strong in the political domain, preventing leaders from rising above “narrow” and “sectarian” caste loyalties.

However, neither Madhok nor any Hindutva leader has ever examined the root causes of the caste system. They often claim to oppose caste divisions and insist that they treat all Indians as equals. Yet, they have never made a serious effort to dismantle the caste system. They have never launched movements promoting inter-caste marriages and inter-dining. They have never supported initiatives for proportional and effective representation of marginalized castes and communities.

As long as the lower castes silently endure their exploitation and humiliation, Hindutva leaders feel satisfied and consider everything to be in order. However, the moment Dalits, Adivasis, and lower castes organize themselves and raise the issue of caste-based discrimination, upper-caste-led Hindu right-wing organizations launch a bitter campaign against them, branding them as anti-national. This phenomenon was evident during the Mandal agitation. When the 27% reservation for OBCs was implemented, Advani initiated a nationwide Rath Yatra for the construction of the Ram Temple, attempting to drown out the voices advocating for social justice in the noise of religious nationalism. In Madhok’s work too, one can observe a deliberate attempt to obscure caste from public discourse.

After addressing internal factors such as casteism and regionalism, Madhok shifts his focus to the idea of a “glorious India,” which he associates with a Vedic, Hindu, Brahminical culture—excluding large sections of society. He writes: “India has been [a] land of freedom of thoughts and tolerance from the very dawn of her history” (Ibid: 32). However, in glorifying India’s past, Madhok overlooks the reality that a significant portion of the population—Dalits, lower castes, and women—were systematically excluded from education and knowledge. The near-total absence of materialist Charvaka philosophical texts in Madhok’s analysis, which were critical of Vedantic philosophy, raises questions about whether India’s past was truly a symbol of a free society.

Madhok’s response to this issue appears to involve placing the blame on Muslims, who, according to him, came to India and disrupted its supposed unity. He argues: “The situation changed… with the advent of Islam in this country. Apart from the fact that it came to India on the wings of foreign invaders, one of whose main motivations was [the] spread of Islam in this country, its very character was [the] anti-thesis of Indian thinking and attitude in regard to religion” (Ibid: 33). Here, one can clearly see Islam being positioned as an external disruptor. Madhok further attributes the rise of communalism to Islam, stating: “No wonder, therefore, that both the Muslim Arabs and Turks who brought Islam into India behaved towards the Indian people in a most barbaric manner” (Ibid: 34).

This is a time-tested method of Hindutva forces—using the Muslim community as a scapegoat. They conveniently blame the minority community to divert attention from the highly exploitative Hindu social order based on caste hierarchy and gender oppression. However, Madhok does not stop here. He later acknowledges that the encounter between Islam and India gradually eroded much of Islam’s supposed intolerance and exclusivity. In other words, he attempts to credit the majority community’s religion for this transformation.

For Madhok, the history of Islam—spanning several continents and spreading through the message of Prophet Muhammad—is not worth mentioning. Even Indian scholars like M. N. Roy, writing four decades before Madhok, argued that Islam brought peace and tolerance to the world while promoting rationality, the spirit of learning, and equality. Yet, Madhok deliberately obscures these historical facts, as he is eager to prove his thesis that Brahminical culture is supreme and that anyone critical of the RSS or Jan Sangh is anti-national.

It is not only Muslims but also communists who come under sharp criticism from Madhok, as he believes they have “extra-territorial loyalties.” According to him, this is why they must be Indianised and inculcated with nationalist and patriotic values. Ultimately, Madhok also turns his attention to Indian politicians, arguing that they too should be Indianised, as they are driven more by vote-bank politics than by national interests. Put simply, anyone who disagrees with the author’s sectarian, supremacist, and exclusionary vision of the RSS/Jan Sangh—or follows a culture or religion other than the Hinduism defined by the RSS—is deemed disloyal and unpatriotic and must immediately be ‘Indianised.’

In conclusion, Madhok’s book was an attempt to reassert the core of Hindutva ideology, which envisions a homogenized nation-state rooted in Vedic, Brahminical culture. This came at a time when the Jana Sangh was experimenting with certain popular economic measures during Indira Gandhi’s regime, becoming less critical of state intervention in economic affairs. The book was published when Madhok was desperate to counter his marginalisation within the party, as his relationship with senior leaders like Advani and Vajpayee was becoming increasingly bitter. However, despite Madhok being an almost forgotten name within his own party, many of the arguments presented in his book continue to be articulated in various ways by Hindu right-wing leaders. This is why a thorough reading and critique of the book remains useful in countering the menace of Hindutva nationalism, which poses a serious threat to the secular and pluralist fabric of the country.

 (This article was originally written as an assignment by the author during his postgraduate studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University from 2009 to 2011. The author took a course at the Centre for Historical Studies, taught by the late Prof. M. S. S. Pandian. The author expresses deep gratitude to Prof. Pandian for introducing him to a critical perspective. The original review has been slightly edited to improve the flow of the text.)

References

Jaffrelot, Christophe (1996). The Hindu Nationalist Movement and Indian Politics. C. Hurst & Co.

Madhok, Balraj (1970). Indianisation: What, How and Why. S. Chand, New Delhi.

Organiser (1973). Mouthpiece of the RSS, 17 March issue, p. 13.

Related:

Balraj Madhok: A Pracharak-turned-Crusader against His Own ‘Parivar’

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

Kannur University likely to drop works of Savarkar, Golwalkar from syllabus

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Vivekananda also emphasised that the message of Jesus of Nazareth was meant for all of humanity, showing us the path of truth. As he put it, “In him is embodied all that is the best and greatest in his own race, the meaning, the life, for which that race has struggled for ages; and he himself is the impetus for the future, not only to his own race but to unnumbered other races of the world.”

While Swamiji was deeply respectful of Jesus Christ and acknowledged that His message was universal, he did not fully engage with the core aspects of Jesus’ teachings, particularly His focus on addressing the profound inequalities of the material world and His sacrifice for the downtrodden.

Rather than confronting these real-world issues, Swamiji sought to place Christ in the framework of a “Great Soul,” interpreting His life and teachings through the lens of his own Vedantic philosophy. In simpler terms, Swamiji seemed to suggest that the message of Jesus was essentially an articulation of the non-dualist Vedantic thought that he himself espoused.

Although Swamiji praised Jesus extensively in his lecture, a significant part of his effort was spent creating an artificial binary between the East and the West. Influenced by Orientalist writings, Vivekananda appeared to present an East-versus-West dichotomy to a Western audience in the early twentieth century. During this time, rapid industrialization had unsettled many Europeans, prompting some to seek solace in the “spiritual” East. The Western fascination with Swamiji’s words should be understood within this historical context.

In his lecture, Vivekananda strongly argued that Jesus belonged to the Eastern world (Asia). He went even further, boldly claiming that all great souls and incarnations originated in the Orient. As he stated, “No wonder, the oriental mind looks with contempt upon the things of this world and naturally wants to see something that changeth not, something which dieth not, something which in the midst of this world of misery and death is eternal, blissful, undying. An oriental Prophet never tires of insisting upon these ideals; and, as for Prophets, you may also remember that without one exception, all the Messengers were Orientals.”

However, Vivekananda failed to recognise that human races, religions, and spiritual practices are not confined to a specific region. People live beyond the Oriental world, practicing a wide range of faiths and relating to God in diverse ways. Even the concept of God is not central to some religions. Some faiths possess sacred texts while others have no history of revealed scriptures. These complex sociological and theological practices were overlooked by Vivekananda in his effort to create a sharp distinction between the Oriental and Occidental worlds.

Vivekananda extended this argument further, making the unsubstantiated claim that European society is primarily “political,” while the Eastern world is “religious.” According to him, “‌The voice of Asia has been the voice of religion. The voice of Europe is the voice of politics.” To support this view, he asserted that “the voice of Europe is the voice of ancient Greece.” He also suggested that because the ancient Greek civilization was primarily focused on the material world, its profound influence on Europe led the continent away from religion.

As he explained, “The Greek lives entirely in this world. He does not care to dream. Even his poetry is practical. His gods and goddesses are not only human beings, but intensely human, with all human passions and feelings almost the same as with any of us. He loves what is beautiful, but, mind you, it is always external nature; the beauty of the hills, of the snows, of the flowers, the beauty of forms and of figures, the beauty in the human face, and, more often, in the human form—that is what the Greeks liked. And the Greeks being the teachers of all subsequent Europeanism, the voice of Europe is Greek.”

Vivekananda largely overlooked that an influential segment of the Western world had claimed the Greek tradition as part of its own cultural heritage. However, the image of Greece has shifted throughout history; some scholars argue that Greece was once viewed as a part of African civilization. Moreover, the dominant discourse in post-Enlightenment Western civilization has often failed to acknowledge adequately the influence of Islam and other non-Western traditions on the rise of Europe.

It appears that Swami Vivekananda spoke within the framework of the dominant European narrative, which positioned Greek culture as the foundational heritage of post-Enlightenment European civilization. However, he gave this argument an intriguing twist by attributing Europe’s secular outlook to the ancient Greeks, claiming this to be the primary cause of Europe’s distance from religion.

The binary opposition that Swamiji established between the religious East and the materialistic/secular West profoundly influenced India’s nationalist movements and post-independence politics. Decades later, when Rabindranath Tagore delivered his lectures on nationalism, he appeared to draw on a similar logic, explaining societal phenomena through binary oppositions. In his lectures, Tagore framed a dichotomy between the social and the political, famously stating, “Our real problem in India is not political. It is social.”

While Swamiji rejected both Greek and European modes of thought, he crafted his own version of religion, which he saw as complementary to the teachings of Jesus. For Vivekananda, religion was crucial in Asia, uniting people despite their differences. Although the unifying role of religion cannot be denied, Swamiji’s lecture overlooked that this so-called religious solidarity is often fractured along caste, class, and gender lines. In other words, divisions by caste, class, and gender are frequently obscured by ruling elites who use religion as a tool to artificially forge unity.

Claiming that people in Asia are inherently religious, Swamiji argued that, unlike the Greeks, Asians are not confined to the material world but instead seek to transcend it, looking for something immutable and indestructible. Drawing on Vedantic philosophy, he suggested that religious individuals in the East go beyond the empirical world in search of “the changeless.”

In his depiction of the religious individual, Vivekananda presented a figure who disregards the material world, focusing instead on what is eternal and imperishable. In contrast, materialist and Buddhist philosophies critique this denial of the material world, emphasizing the dynamic nature of existence. Interestingly, even Jesus Christ—who fought for the rights of the poor and challenged social injustices—is appropriated within the broader Vedantic framework.

In my reading of Vedantic philosophy, I find that it contains some elements of equality, particularly in its belief that God resides within all beings. Since it claims that every individual embodies God, Vedanta has the potential to broaden the social foundation of Hinduism.

Vivekananda expanded on this concept in his lecture, emphasizing that God resides within the soul of every person. This aligns with the message that all are children of God. He expressed it as follows: “As man advanced spiritually, he began to feel that God was omnipresent, that He must be in him, that He must be everywhere, that He was not a distant God, but clearly the Soul of all souls. As my soul moves my body, even so is God the mover of my soul. Soul within soul. And a few individuals who had developed enough and were pure enough, went still further, and at last found God.”

However, the limitation of this perspective is its failure to address social inequality. If all are embodiments of God, then how do we define the oppressed and the oppressors? In other words, Vivekananda’s religious theory acknowledges the existence of sorrow but does not consider the causes of sorrow in the world. To escape from sorrow, Vedantic philosophy suggests transcending the material world. Yet, the philosophers of oppressed communities urge people not only to examine the roots of inequality but also to actively work toward eliminating them. The life of Jesus, as the Messiah of the downtrodden, offers numerous examples of the fight for an egalitarian world—an aspect that Vivekananda overlooked in his Los Angeles lecture.

[The author holds a PhD in Modern History from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. His research focuses on minority rights and social justice. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com]

Related:

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Redefining Indian Tradition Minus Christianity & Islam is Intellectual Dishonesty

The post How has Swami Vivekananda looked at Jesus Christ? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The election results would reveal to what extent his call influenced the voters and helped the secular alliance. However, his direct involvement in the electoral process by releasing the lists of candidates at a press conference has already been exploited by the BJP to mobilise Hindu voters. It remains unclear how successful the BJP’s efforts were.

Referring to the lists issued by Maulana Nomani, dDeputy Chief Minister and BJP leader Devendra Fadnavis appealed to Hindu voters to consolidate against this move. He did not mince words, stating that the Muslim voter mobilisation (referred to as “vote jihad”) in favour of the secular alliance should be answered by a “religious war” (dharma yudh) from the Hindu side. Speaking to journalists, he outlined the BJP’s strategy: “Although we are seeking votes for our development work, if someone says to engage in ‘vote jihad’ to defeat the BJP, we will respond with a dharma yudh of votes.”

Beyond the BJP’s response, Maulana Nomani’s selection of candidates has also sparked an internal debate within the Muslim community. Supporters of excluded candidates, particularly those from the Muslim community, expressed deep disappointment. This led to questions and a heated debate about the criteria and methods the Maulana used to finalise his “lists”. Some critics went so far as to question the Maulana’s credibility, demanding a public explanation of the selection process.

This controversy feeds into a broader debate about the blurring of the boundary between religion and politics. Parties engaged in majoritarian politics have already eroded much of the separation by mobilising voters on religious grounds, using Hindu religious leaders to consolidate their base. Worse still, leaders of Hindu right-wing parties frequently win elections by campaigning on anti-Muslim platforms, delivering hateful speeches, and spreading anti-minority propaganda before and during elections. These communal and majoritarian trends, fuelled by the involvement of religious leaders, pose a serious threat to our secular republic and must be reversed.

However, the involvement of Muslim religious figures in electoral politics, even with good intentions, could undermine the very goal of preserving secularism. This is the flip side of the story. A Muslim religious scholar, like any other citizen, is free to engage in politics and support any candidate. There is no doubt about this. But political involvement is a public act, and people have the right to agree or disagree with the clergy’s actions. Asking such questions should not be seen as an attempt to demonize or silence Muslim religious leaders. I will return to this point shortly. 

Elections and the clergy

The elections for all 288 assembly seats in Maharashtra were conducted in a single phase on November 20, with results scheduled to be declared three days later, on November 23. In the current political landscape of Maharashtra, the primary contest is expected to be between the opposition MVA (Maha Vikas Aghadi) and the ruling BJP-led Mahayuti alliance. The MVA consists of Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (SHS-UBT), Sharad Pawar’s NCP (SP faction), and the Congress, supported by the Samajwadi Party, the Peasants and Workers Party of India (PWP), the Communist Party of India, the Communist Party of India (Marxist), and a few independent MLAs. The Mahayuti alliance, on the other hand, includes the BJP, the Shiv Sena (Eknath Shinde faction), and Ajit Pawar’s NCP.

In addition to these two major alliances, Asaduddin Owaisi’s All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM) is another influential player in Maharashtra politics. While AIMIM fielded 44 candidates in the 2019 assembly elections, this time it has announced only 16 candidates, marking a significant reduction in the number of contested seats. Although AIMIM secured only two seats in the previous elections, it now seeks to focus its efforts on fewer constituencies to achieve better results.

Another notable participant in Maharashtra’s political arena is the Vanchit Bahujan Aghadi (VBA), led by former Member of Parliament Prakash Ambedkar, the grandson of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar. The VBA, which has a strong social base among Dalits, has fielded 51 candidates. In the 2019 General Elections, the AIMIM and the VBA forged an alliance, garnering a combined 14% vote share. Consequently, smaller parties like AIMIM and VBA, which represent some of the most marginalised communities in society, cannot be overlooked. However, most candidates from AIMIM and VBA were excluded from Maulana Sajjad Nomani’s endorsed lists.

The AIMIM, which contested the 2019 Maharashtra Assembly Elections and secured two seats in Malegaon and Dhule City, has been ignored by both the Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA) and Maulana Sajjad Nomani. However, Owaisi, unlike the allies of the so-called secular MVA, has been more vocal about raising Muslim issues, both in Parliament and beyond. Yet, his party was not included in the Maulana’s list of preferred candidates.

Maulana Nomani has not explained his reasons for excluding AIMIM and VBA candidates. Instead, he released a statement alongside his lists of preferred candidates on his official Twitter account. In the statement, Maulana Nomani—who is a member of the working executive of the All India Muslim Personal Law Board and the founding chairman of the Rahmani Foundation—claimed that the candidates were selected based on “extensive research, ground surveys, and in-depth analysis.” However, the statement does not provide any details regarding the methodology, sample size, or specifics of his research, survey, and analysis. The statement merely justified the selection, predominantly from the MVA, by emphasizing the significance of the Maharashtra Assembly Elections in the current political scenario. Elaborating further, Maulana Nomani stated, “Each election is a test as well as testimony to the strength of the country’s democracy and our faith in it.” His statement ended with optimism, expressing hope that the elections would result in the formation of “a secular and inclusive government.” This led to questions about whether Maulana’s support for Owaisi-led AIMIM and Ambedkar-led VBA candidates would have made his selection more “secular” and “inclusive.”

Maulana Sajjad Nomani is an eminent Islamic scholar, followed by a section of Sunni Muslims. His association with Deoband, Nadwa, and the Tablighi Jamaat is seen by politicians as political capital, to be leveraged during election campaigns. His religious background is viewed as an asset by those more interested in securing Muslim votes than genuinely working for their welfare. This is something Maulana Nomani needs to be cautious about.

Maulana Sajjad Nomani was born in Lucknow in 1955 and claims ancestral roots in Turkey. His father, Maulana Mohammad Manzoor Nomani, was a renowned Islamic scholar and an alumnus of Darul Uloom Deoband. Maulana Manzoor Nomani authored several influential books, including Islami Kya Hai (What is Islam?), a concise introduction to Islam that remains widely sold and appreciated to this day. While Maulana Sajjad Nomani benefited from his father’s legacy, he has carved his own path as a scholar, author, orator, and expert in Islamic studies.

Maulana Sajjad Nomani pursued his early education at Nadwat Ul-Ulama in Lucknow and Darul Uloom Deoband. Later, he earned a doctorate in Quranic Studies from Madina University in Saudi Arabia. Beyond his scholarly work, Maulana Sajjad Nomani is actively involved in education. He manages educational institutions and serves as the editor of Al-Furqan. In 1995, he founded the NGO Rahman Foundation, which is dedicated to supporting the poor, orphans, widows, and the oppressed. His efforts span across vast areas, with notable contributions in Maharashtra, where he runs madrasas and leads the Khanqah Nomaniya Mujaddidiyah in Neral (Raigad district), about a two-hour journey from Mumbai. Maulana Sajjad Nomani is also active on social media, regularly sharing video lectures that reach a wide audience.

He has never shied away from sharing political platforms or shifting his political loyalties. For a long time, he was associated with Waman Meshram, the national president of the All India Backward and Minority Communities Employees Federation (BAMCEF). Established by former BSP president Manyavar Kanshi Ram, D.K. Khaparde, and Dinabhana in 1971, BAMCEF is an Ambedkarite organization. While Maulana’s speeches at BAMCEF included scathing criticism of secular parties for betraying the causes of Dalits and Muslims, his recent political positions have favoured secular parties. This shift in loyalty may explain his exclusion of AIMIM and VBA candidates. It appears that Maulana has moved away from his earlier political message of forging a Dalit-Muslim alliance to challenge Brahmanical parties.

The Maulana and His critics

While the supporters of Maulana Sajjad Nomani have praised his efforts to release lists of endorsed candidates, calling them “great initiatives” and urging Muslims to follow his “wisdom,” many others have criticized his actions. A section of the Muslim community has expressed frustration with the Maulana for excluding a significant number of candidates from Asaduddin Owaisi-led AIMIM and other political outfits representing marginalized communities. Critics argue that Owaisi, in sharp contrast to the leaders of secular parties, has been far more vocal about the concerns of minorities and other weaker sections. They claim that while secular parties have increasingly leaned toward soft Hindutva to counter the BJP, AIMIM has raised genuine issues. Secular parties, under the guise of adopting a “practical” strategy, have nearly stopped addressing Muslim issues in their manifestos and speeches, offering only symbolic gestures at best. Despite this, the Maulana has expressed support for these secular parties without clarifying whether they have assured him of any concrete measures to address the social, educational, and economic backwardness of Muslims if they come to power.

Notably, the Maulana’s list omits any mention of how the secular alliance has ignored Muslim concerns before or during their campaigns in Maharashtra. Secular parties often assume that Muslims will vote for them by default as the only alternative to communal forces. This contrasts sharply with Owaisi, who, more than most leaders from either secular or communal parties, has consistently spoken as a radical constitutionalist and effectively raised minority issues. Despite this, the Maulana did not give preference to the Owaisi-led AIMIM in his recommendations.

Against this backdrop, a significant section of Muslims has begun questioning Maulana Sajjad Nomani’s approach. Social media platforms are flooded with reactions and comments, casting doubt on the processes and criteria he used to include or exclude candidates. The backlash against the Maulana has been expressed in multiple ways. He has been accused of “selling out” the interests of the Muslim community, and some have questioned his shifting political loyalties, with a few even accusing him of working in favour of communal parties. Others have warned that such actions could damage the prestige and dignity of the Ulama (religious scholars), particularly if their recommendations fail to gain public support.

The criticisms against Maulana Sajjad Nomani also stem from his failure to address the shortcomings of secular parties in defending Muslim interests. Some Muslims have gone so far as to accuse the Maulana of issuing his list of preferred candidates in exchange for monetary benefits. Others allege that he acted as a spokesperson for secular parties under the guise of a religious scholar. Another critique is that Muslim religious leaders often provide “free” services to secular parties out of fear of the BJP. Additionally, some critics have questioned the Maulana’s influence, suggesting that his appeal would go unheard. Allegations of personal gain were also raised, with claims that the Maulana released the list hoping to be rewarded with a Rajya Sabha seat. Beyond releasing the list of candidates, the Maulana has also been criticized for “blessing” politicians ahead of the elections. In some instances, candidates and politicians were reportedly allowed to visit the Maulana’s office and be photographed with him, with these images later shared on social media to influence voters.

Muslim intellectuals, activists, and the secular intelligentsia have also raised concerns about the Maulana’s involvement in electoral politics. Professor Akhtarul Wasey, who taught Islamic studies at Jamia Millia Islamia, opined that the involvement of religious figures from any community is not good for a secular democracy. “The way we have criticized the political use of religious figures by non-Muslims, we should also criticize such acts committed by any Muslim.”

Tanweer Alam, a resident of Mumbai and president of the Aligarh Muslim University Alumni Association (Maharashtra chapter), is highly disappointed by Maulana Sajjad Nomani’s political activities, particularly during the assembly elections. “We need to strongly oppose the involvement of Muslim religious figures in political activities. Our opposition is not because we want to silence any voice or disenfranchise those with whom we disagree. Any religious scholar from the Muslim community who becomes active during elections should be closely observed. My disagreement with the respected Maulana is on two points. First, who has authorized him to speak on behalf of the entire Muslim community? Second, how does the Maulana claim to have political understanding when he makes highly irresponsible statements that can be exploited by communal forces? For example, a viral video is circulating in which he is allegedly heard saying he would boycott those who voted for the BJP. I am not sure if the video is authentic, but if it is, then he has harmed the cause of both Muslims and the country by giving a clear opportunity to communal forces.”

Ahmad Jawed, a senior journalist and former editor of the Inquilab Urdu daily (Patna edition), described Maulana Sajjad Nomani’s actions as “counterproductive.” He elaborated on his position with the following words: “With due respect to Maulana Sajjad Nomani, it should be noted that people issuing so-called fatwa, [legal ruling by Islamic scholars] farman, [order] or appeals have not had any significant impact on the electoral politics of India. A careful analysis of India’s electoral behaviour shows that Muslim voters are not influenced by fatwa, farman, or any such appeal. Each time, Muslim voters have prioritized the interests of the nation, the principles of secularism, and issues of governance, law, and justice”.

Dr. John Dayal, a veteran journalist, writer, human rights activist, ex-member of the National Integration Council (Government of India), and former national president of the All India Catholic Union, is widely regarded as one of the strongest secular voices in civil society. When asked to comment on the matter, he said, “The political party is the direct beneficiary of the support of religious leadership, who in turn enjoy this patronage for their places of worship and for themselves, individually or collectively.”

Some clarifications

While the instances of majoritarian parties politically exploiting religious figures are innumerable—and one of the main planks of their political mobilisation—there are also instances where Muslim religious figures have been drawn into the political arena. Long before Maulana Sajjad Nomani, the ruling elites used Shahi Imams, constructing their image as leaders of Indian Muslims to consolidate Hindu voters. For example, during the 2004 General Elections, Syed Ahmad Bukhari, the Imam of Delhi’s historic Jama Masjid, appealed to Muslims to vote for the BJP in the Gujarat elections, overlooking the 2002 Gujarat riots, which resulted in massive loss of life, primarily among Muslims, under BJP rule. His appeal backfired, and the BJP was voted out of power. Similarly, the Atal Bihari Vajpayee Himayat Committee, formed to gain Muslim support with the backing of several Muslim religious scholars, also failed to help the BJP secure an electoral victory. Currently, Hindutva forces have floated the Muslim Rashtriya Manch (MRM), whose Muslim members are trained to justify Hindutva agendas using the language of Islam.

However, it is not implied here that Maulana Sajjad Nomani released his list of candidates at the behest of any political party. It’s possible that he issued such a list on his own to draw media attention and place himself at the centre of Maharashtra politics. But the bigger question is how much influence he actually has over the Muslim community. While his influence among a section of Muslims is not dismissed, it is doubtful that he holds sway over the entire Muslim community. It is also uncertain if younger generations of Muslims are inclined to follow a top-down approach in decision-making. Instead, they prefer to weigh multiple factors before choosing their political affiliations.

Let me share a personal example to illustrate this point. On December 15, 2019, a large number of activists gathered at the Delhi Police Headquarters to protest the police crackdown on anti-CAA protesters at Jamia Millia Islamia. Suddenly, a prominent Jamiat Ulema-e-Hind leader appeared at the protest site and tried to discourage the protesters, most of whom were Muslims, from continuing. Muslim youths, however, rejected this advice outright.

Both Muslim religious scholars and the Hindu right often make the mistake of considering the Muslim community as a homogenous group, painting it primarily as a religious bloc because it suits their agendas. However, the sociological reality is that the Muslim community is sharply divided along lines of caste, class, gender, language, and region. While the Holy Quran is universally revered and Prophet Mohammad holds a central place in the Islamic faith, differences emerge in interpretations of Islamic teachings by the Ulama. These differences give rise to various religious sects and schools of jurisprudence within the Muslim community. As a result, no single religious leader can claim the authority to influence the entire Muslim population.

This raises the question of whether it is desirable for any religious leader to speak for the whole Muslim community. A larger concern is how beneficial the involvement of a religious figure—without clear ideological clarification and political strategy—is for the community. Will such appeals by religious figures serve a constructive purpose, or will they be exploited by communal forces to reinforce the myth that the Muslim community is controlled by the clergy? Hindu right-wing and anti-Muslim commentators are likely to overlook the vibrant internal debates and diversity within the Muslim community, focusing instead on such acts to perpetuate stereotypes. This is exactly what the BJP is doing in Maharashtra by citing the Maulana’s list as an example of “vote jihad” against Hindus. However, Hindutva forces conveniently ignore the fact that the Maulana’s actions have drawn significant criticism from within the Muslim community itself.

It is important to note that Islam does not grant clergy an indispensable or centralised authority. However, it is also true that certain members of the clergy play an active role in guiding the community in social, religious, and political matters. When they enter the political domain, however, it tends to erode the boundaries between religion and politics in a democratic polity. While majoritarian symbols and practices are often universalized in the name of national culture and way of life, minority religious symbols are demonized as “alien.” But this cannot justify the instrumental use of religious figures from minority communities for electoral mobilization, as such practices have the potential to undermine the secular-democratic republic.

Let me clarify a point before I conclude. My disagreement with the participation of religious leaders in electoral politics is not an attempt to silence any voice. Nowhere have I argued that a religious scholar should be silenced, nor is my criticism of a religious leader aimed at suppressing minority voices. In fact, my concern over the instrumental use of religious figures stems from a desire to strengthen the genuine voices of the minority community. Just as Maulana Nomani has every right to hold a political opinion, support or oppose any political outfit, and endorse or reject any candidate, we too have the right to seek a public explanation from the Maulana about the methods and processes involved in finalizing his list of candidates. His statements and endorsements are not private affairs; they have public significance, and he should be held accountable for his political actions. As someone involved in the political arena, he should not be immune from criticism.

Let me reiterate that a religious leader has every right to issue a list of endorsed candidates and campaign for their victory, directly or indirectly. However, our disagreement lies in whether a religious scholar’s direct involvement in electoral politics has ever truly advanced the cause of marginalised groups. Likewise, if a religious scholar is free to publicly share a list of endorsed candidates with claims that a proper method was followed in the selection process, is it not reasonable to ask him to explain the criteria for that selection?

Most would agree that the secular foundation of Indian democracy discourages religious mobilisation in electoral politics. While religion has always played some role in elections, efforts should focus on minimising its influence, not validating it. Majoritarian parties have consistently exploited religious sentiments, presenting communalism as nationalism. When such tactics are imitated by secular forces or minority groups, they often prove counterproductive.

In fact, my essay does not aim to target any particular individual, nor the community he or she claims to represent. Rather, it raises important questions and seeks a public debate. For instance, was issuing a list of endorsed candidates at the last moment before the elections truly the best way to serve the minority community? If such a practice is considered “legitimate,” how can the Hindu right—which brazenly uses religion for electoral mobilization and stokes communal tensions—be criticized alone? While Maulana Nomani may be optimistic about transferring his supporters’ votes to his preferred candidates, should he also consider the potential counter-mobilization by Hindutva forces? Ultimately, who benefits the most from the alliance between politicians and religious figures? These pertinent questions demand careful deliberation and cannot be ignored.

(The author holds a PhD in Modern History from Jawaharlal Nehru University. His doctoral research focused on the All India Muslim Personal Law Board. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com; Views expressed are personal)

The post Who stands to gain the most from an alliance between politicians and religious leaders? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In contrast, the party’s prominent Adivasi leaders, including former chief ministers Babulal Marandi and Arjun Munda, are almost absent. Similarly, the manifesto lacks representation of women leaders, especially Adivasi women, raising questions about the party’s commitment to women’s empowerment.

Several pages are entirely devoted to photos of Modi, while Adivasi leader Marandi appears only in two, visibly smaller images. Arjun Munda is visible only in the background of a photograph where Modi occupies the central position.

In the images featured, Modi is seen paying tribute to Adivasi icons such as Birsa Munda (1875-1900), Telanga Kharia (1806–1880), and Veer Budhu Bhagat (1792–1832). In another image, Modi is shown among a group of women, an apparent attempt to convey his appeal as a leader admired by women, committed to their welfare.

Elsewhere, Modi is pictured distributing benefits from the Prime Minister Kisan Mandhan Yojana. Another photo captures him interacting with a potter, and yet another shows him playfully engaging with children.

While some of these images depict Modi’s gestures towards Adivasis and vulnerable communities, a large-sized photograph on page 67 of the manifesto shows him with folded hands, his forehead marked with religious symbols. For some, this image signals his identity as an RSS cadre, underscoring that his engagement with Adivasi communities does not detract from his adherence to, or dereference of, RSS traditions.

Apart from the National President of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) J.P. Nadda and former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee, no other prominent BJP leaders are featured, reflecting Modi’s continuing dominance within the party.

In a parliamentary democracy, the rise of hero-worship and the dominance of one leader over both the party and the government is seriously concerning. 

In a caste-based society like India, no individual can claim to represent the interests of all groups. That is why social diversity should be reflected in all institutions, from political parties to government bodies. 

The dominance of Modi also challenges the BJP’s claims of being run by “democratic” principles and having “ample space” for internal debates and discussions. But Modi’s rise within the BJP’s central leadership has not only marginalized his rivals but also overshadowed the presence of his supporters.

The BJP Jharkhand manifesto also omits Dalit and OBC leaders from Jharkhand. Nor has the party offered any substantial program for the welfare of the Dalit (12%) and OBC population in the state.

While the manifesto declares the party’s commitment to 27% reservation for OBCs to appeal to the state’s other backward castes, the JMM-led Hemant Soren government has already decided to raise OBC reservation to this level years back. Moreover, while the BJP aims to rally Adivasi voters by emphasizing the threat of “Bangladeshi infiltrators” in Santhal Pargana, it has made no significant gestures toward the state’s Muslim minority. 

Along with the Muslim minority (14.5%), the concerns of the Christian community, which constitutes 4.3% of the population, have also been ignored.Similarly, major issues such as the exploitation of Jharkhand’s resources and the displacement of Adivasis have been sidestepped by focusing on the “threats” of Muslim infiltration and “Naxalism”.

What remains consistent across the pages of the manifesto, however, is the extensive display of Modi’s images.

(The author is an independent journalist)

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The post BJP Jharkhand manifesto splashes 23 pictures of Modi, neglects party’s Adivasi faces appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This decision by the Dhami government came shortly after the Yogi Adityanath government in Uttar Pradesh also implemented similar strict guidelines. In the name of preventing contamination of food by saliva (thook) and human waste, a new regime of surveillance is being put in place. Reports from Uttar Pradesh indicate that the Yogi government has vowed to take strict action against any eatery worker found to be an “intruder” or “illegal foreign citizen.”

At a function held on October 13 in Kichha, Udham Singh Nagar district, Uttarakhand Chief Minister Dhami stated, “Religious conversion, encroachment, land jihad, and thook jihad will not be allowed in Devbhoomi Uttarakhand.” Two days later, Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath announced that strict measures would be implemented to prevent food adulteration. As he put it, “Recent incidents involving contamination of food items such as juice, lentils, and bread with human waste or other dirty substances have been disturbing and adversely affect public health. These incidents also harm social harmony and are utterly unacceptable.” Their statements were reported in The Organiser (October 16, 2024), the English weekly and mouthpiece of the RSS.

According to media reports, Yogi Adityanath held a high-level meeting with officials on October 15 to discuss these proposed laws. While supporters of these guidelines claim they aim to prevent any form of food contamination and ensure consumer safety, growing concerns suggest that these measures are likely to be misused against marginalized communities, particularly Muslims and Dalits.

These fears are not unfounded when considering the larger campaign surrounding a newly created pejorative term, “spit jihad.” Supremacist Hindutva-led campaigns around purity and pollution have further entrenched existing social prejudices, exacerbated stigmatisation, and fuel racism. Moreover, this deliberately and politically created frenzy around “spit jihad” threatens to weaken the broader movement towards equality and non-discrimination by legitimising casteist and communal reactionary forces.

The very term “spit jihad” itself reveals the underlying anti-Muslim prejudice driving these campaigns. There is no logical connection between the act of spitting and the concept of jihad. The deliberate choice of the word “jihad” by right-wing forces suggests a sinister agenda, as it perpetuates harmful stereotypes against Muslim and Islam and promotes communal divisions.

Islamic scholars provide a nuanced definition of the term jihad and the debates surrounding it, but the broader consensus is that the term refers to making efforts for a just cause. It has nothing to do with violence, nor is it directed against non-Muslims or a threat to the safety and well-being of Hindus. There is no historical record of Muslims, as a community, declaring jihad against Hindus. In simple terms, jihad means striving for a legitimate and just cause. In other words, it is a struggle against injustice and oppression. In a catholic sense, jihad has two primary dimensions. There is the outward jihad, which may be waged for a just and noble cause, but there is also the inner jihad—a personal struggle against the self. It is widely accepted that this inner jihad, aimed at purifying one’s character and conduct, is the “greater” jihad. Reforming oneself, striving to be a good human being, and purifying the heart is considered a far more difficult and noble pursuit than the external jihad.

However, today, in India’s vitiated political landscape, the misuse of the term jihad has been twisted to mean an unholy conspiratorial assault by Muslims and through that, by Islam. The Taliban and Islamists have not helped matters (recall the Bamiyan Buddha destruction in March 2001 following a February 26 order by Taliban leader Mullah Mohammad Umar)

Political Islam and Islamists have assisted in extenuating a growing Islamophobia world over. Some hawkish scholars declared the Muslim world a threat to the West, fear of Muslims began to spread among non-Muslims. With the help of a powerful propaganda machinery, myths were ingrained in the minds of many that Muslims are preoccupied with waging violent jihad against “infidels.” False claims such as Muslims increasing their population through polygamy, converting non-Muslims by force or deceit, or harbouring “nefarious” plans to revive the Caliphate by dismantling democratic and secular institutions have been repeated endlessly. Lies, when told often enough, can start to be perceived as truth. This is why even some liberals have developed an unfounded fear of Muslims.

The truth, however, is far different. For a vast section of silent, worshipful Muslims, the ideal figure for Muslims is the Prophet Muhammad, whose life is filled with examples of friendship and cooperation with non-Muslims. He often entered into treaties with them, and the Holy Quran emphasizes that His message is for all of humanity, not just Muslims. The Quran repeatedly underscores the importance of serving humanity, regardless of faith. It frequently mentions worship of God and service to both Muslims and non-Muslims in the same breath. History also bears witness to the peaceful coexistence of non-Muslims under Muslim rule, where they were allowed to freely practice their religious beliefs. Even Jewish communities, often persecuted elsewhere, lived peacefully during Muslim rule.

It needs to be stressed however that a violent and supremacist version of political Islam, spread in the Middle East and many other countries in which Islam is the accepted official religion has extenuated both the prejudice and the real divide. Besides, the misinterpretation and manipulation of religious concepts are not unique to Islam. Sections of Muslims, do exploit religious symbols to serve their own selfish interests. There are even instances of upper-caste Muslim men denying rights to lower castes or women within their own community. Similarly, there are Muslims who might misuse Islamic concepts and commit acts of violence. However, such anti-social behaviour is not confined to Islam. For instance, the Hinduism espoused by Mahatma Gandhi and that practiced by his assassin, Nathuram Godse, were starkly different. This shows that any religion can be misused, and it is unfair to view Muslims through a narrow, prejudiced lens as a monolithic community stuck in medieval practices.

Even before the rise of the RSS and BJP to political dominance they have been ideologically wedded to a Hindu civilization, a Hindu nation based on supremacy and the notion of the “the other.” These outfits, now in power have long since not only absorbed global anti-Muslim propaganda but have also redefined and weaponised it, making it even more dangerous. The global fear of Muslims, which began intensifying after the Cold War in the 1990s, was skilfully exploited by right-wing forces in India. Instead of challenging this harmful narrative, they embraced it to further their anti-Muslim agenda. Hindutva ideologues drew from the writings of Western anti-Islamic and anti-Muslim figures, repackaging these prejudices for an Indian audience.

The relentless injection of anti-Muslim rhetoric by the commercial and big media has proven to be equally troubling. Even a rational mind, once exposed to this toxic content over time, can become infected with hatred towards Muslims. Media, dominated by the upper castes, has played an alarmingly irresponsible role in perpetuating this hate. A case in point is a special show aired by a prominent Hindi news anchor, which distorted the concept of jihad to suit a Hindutva narrative. The anchor claimed that Muslims were waging jihad in numerous domains—economy, education, history, media, music, and even by influencing secular intellectuals. Additionally, the anchor alleged that Muslims were deliberately increasing their population to change India’s demographic balance and trap non-Muslim women in what has come to be known as “love jihad.”

The underlying message from such rhetoric is clear: Hindus are being told to “wake up” to the supposed danger posed by Indian Muslims –who could be neighbours even– who are accused of weakening the Hindu community in every sphere of life. The recent spit jihad campaign is just another extension of this ongoing narrative, which portrays Muslims as a threat to Hindu identity and culture.

This divisive strategy has found various outlets, including the repeated targeting of food-related practices. Take, for example, the Muzaffarnagar police’s recent order requiring shopkeepers and food vendors to display their names to avoid “confusing” Hindu pilgrims. While authorities claim there is no communal motive behind such measures, Yogi Government minister Kapil Dev Agarwal openly revealed the true agenda. Speaking in Agra before the Kanwar Yatra, he said, “During the yatra, some Muslims run their shops under the names of Hindu gods and goddesses. We have no objection to them running their shops, but they should not name them after Hindu deities because devotees sit there and drink tea and water.”

Although the Supreme Court stayed this order, declaring such policies inappropriate in a secular state, the underlying communal agenda persists. The spit jihad campaign, purportedly designed to prevent food contamination, is nothing but another attempt to deepen religious and social divisions. By pushing the idea that contamination comes specifically from Muslims, the campaign fuels long-standing anti-Muslim and anti-Dalit prejudices. In most of the viral videos accusing people of spitting or contaminating food, the perpetrators are invariably portrayed as Muslims.

For years, Hindutva forces have circulated rumours among Hindus that Muslims deliberately spit in food before serving it to Hindus. Ironically, in northern India, especially Uttar Pradesh, Sunni Muslims have also been brought up with prejudices of a similar kind vis a vis Shias! These divisive tactics have now today got a powerful supremacist state backing. Used to discredit the practice of inter-dining, a critical aspect of building communal harmony and the overall secularisation of society. Rather than countering such harmful biases, current communal forces are further demonizing inter-dining—a practice that Dr. B.R. Ambedkar had strongly emphasized as essential for bridging societal divides. By attacking inter-dining, which could help foster unity, the Hindutva forces are undermining efforts to build an inclusive society, promoting division instead.

Finally, the spit jihad narrative is less about food safety and more about deepening religious and caste divisions. By creating an atmosphere of suspicion and prejudice, these campaigns undermine the very foundations of India’s pluralistic and secular fabric.

The issue of “spit jihad,” often framed as primarily targeting Muslims, actually has far-reaching consequences for both Muslims and Dalits, as it taps into deeply entrenched social prejudices that affect both communities. Historically, the notion of purity and pollution, which is central to the caste system, was first imposed upon Dalits. The practice of untouchability, grounded in the belief that Dalits were impure, was justified by upper-caste Hindus through the lens of caste segregation. Dr. B.R. Ambedkar critiqued this social hierarchy, noting that the caste system fosters contempt, especially for those at the bottom. For Ambedkar, this was why Hinduism lacked the feeling of fraternity and community bonding, prompting him to convert to Buddhism as a form of protest.

In independent India, the practice of untouchability was outlawed, and the state was tasked with implementing measures to uplift Dalits, Adivasis, and other marginalized groups. However, campaigns like “spit jihad” represent a counter-revolution to these democratic gains. By justifying social segregation and reinforcing the idea of “purity” in the name of food safety, these measures indirectly revive old forms of untouchability, especially in relation to Dalits and Muslims.

This modern version of the purity-pollution binary is being repurposed by communal forces to deepen divisions, not just against Muslims but also Dalits. The upper-caste Hindu perception of pollution—historically linked to caste—now manifests in their reluctance to share food or dine in eateries owned by Muslims. This phenomenon is not new for Dalits, who have long faced similar discrimination. Many Dalit business owners conceal their caste to avoid losing customers, and the same applies to Muslim-owned businesses today, where communal forces push for a clear division between “Hindu” and “Muslim” food establishments.

Even today, upper-caste-owned food chains and eateries are more widely accepted, while those owned by Dalits or Muslims are viewed with suspicion. As a result, Dalits and Muslims often have to hide their identities in business dealings to avoid losing customers from upper-caste Hindus, reinforcing both caste-based and religious discrimination.

In this context, the “spit jihad” campaign is not just an attack on Muslims but a reaffirmation, negatively, of the social prejudices and hierarchies that have oppressed Dalits for centuries. Both groups are treated as impure and “othered” by the dominant caste and religious forces, perpetuating the same exclusionary logic. The division between “Hindu” and “Muslim” food shops today echoes the historical exclusion of Dalits from spaces and resources.

Recently, I visited the old city areas of Lucknow, specifically the old city area. I needed to purchase sweets for my relatives. When I asked my Muslim friends to help me with the purchase, one of them mentioned a sweet shop called “Maulana Sweets,” known for its reasonable prices and good quality. However, they cautioned that my relatives might not accept sweets from there. When I responded that it could be possible, my friend suggested taking me to a nearby Hindu-owned shop, named after a Hindu god, to avoid any potential issues.

This communal and caste-based discrimination in the food industry is an extension of the broader socio-economic marginalization of these communities. By reinforcing social distancing and fostering a sense of distrust, these campaigns aim to erode the gains made towards social equality, targeting the economic livelihoods of Muslims and Dalits alike. Such policies and campaigns don’t just seek to control hygiene or safety; they represent an insidious attempt to deepen societal divides along both religious and caste lines.

If we truly want to build a secular India based on the principle of fraternity, we must combat social prejudices. However, reactionary forces are moving in the opposite direction, with a vested interest in further dividing society along religious lines. Their measures aim to benefit upper-caste businessmen by excluding Muslims and Dalits from competition. This is why it appears that the true motive behind the BJP government’s decision to disclose the names of hotel owners and staff is to exploit the reactionary sentiments prevalent in society, ultimately benefiting their financial backers. Therefore, I contend that these laws are not primarily designed to protect consumer health or prevent food contamination. Instead, they are intended to economically weaken the already vulnerable Muslim and Dalit communities.

There is a striking irony here. While the BJP governments are so proactive in ensuring food safety for consumers, they make little effort to secure the rights of workers in eateries. Across the country, the conditions in hotels are deplorable. Visit any dhaba, and it is likely you’ll see a child working there. Child labour is rampant in many hotels and dhabas. Why doesn’t the government take serious steps to address these issues? Even more troubling is that most of the workers cleaning utensils are Bahujans. Their fingers rot from constant exposure to water, they are paid meagre wages, and they are forced to work long hours under inhumane conditions. Why is there no initiative from the BJP government to improve the welfare of these workers?

In conclusion, I would like to reiterate that the primary aim of these guidelines against so-called “spit jihad” is reactionary. Their main objective is not to ensure consumer safety or protect food from contamination. Instead, these policies are designed to economically marginalize Muslims and Dalits while intensifying the regime of surveillance. Not long ago, a campaign against halal food was launched by Hindutva forces to exclude Muslim businessmen, and these new regulations are a continuation of the Hindutva agenda. Secular-democratic and social justice forces must unite to oppose these divisive policies.

(Dr. Abhay Kumar is an independent journalist. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com)

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Among the attendees, Daya Shankar (name changed) stood out. He showed great interest in the subject and posed numerous questions, some of which were sharp and thought-provoking. He communicated fluently and was highly articulate and argumentative in his approach.

During the talk, I left the podium and walked toward him. He was sitting on a bench in the back row with three other students. Our one-on-one conversation continued for a considerable time. Eventually, the professor who had organised the lecture had to intervene, saying, “Sir, Daya Shankar’s questions are endless.” Upon hearing this, many in the audience laughed. Although the formal session had ended, we continued our conversation outside the hall. Before leaving, we exchanged phone numbers, and since then, Daya Shankar and I have remained in touch.

Daya Shankar, an undergraduate student of English, belongs to the Marandi Adivasi group in Jharkhand, which is part of the larger Santhal community. The Santhals are considered one of the largest Adivasi groups in Jharkhand and West Bengal by population. “They have a legacy of anti-colonial struggles against the Zamindari system in the mid-19^th century”.

In addition to Jharkhand and West Bengal, the Santhals also reside in Bihar, Odisha, Assam, Tripura, Nepal, and Bangladesh. The Santhals predominantly speak Santali, a language belonging to the Austroasiatic family.

According to the 2011 Census, Adivasis, officially classified as Scheduled Tribes (ST), make up 26.3% of the population in Jharkhand, compared to 8.3% at the national level. Around 8.6 million Adivasis live in Jharkhand, comprising 32 different ST groups. Jharkhand has the 12th largest tribal population in India, with significant concentrations in districts like Simdega, West Singhbhum, Khunti, and Dumka. The Santhal Pargana division, which borders West Bengal, has a higher Muslim population at 22%, compared to the state’s overall Muslim population of just over 14%.

A few days ago, I wrote an article on the targeting of innocent Muslims in BJP-governed states, where their homes and shops are being demolished by bulldozers as a form of state punishment. I referred to these illegal acts as “bulldozer terrorism” because no provision in the Constitution or any law permits the demolition of a person’s home, whether they are accused or convicted, as a collective punishment. Human rights organisations have already documented the gross violations occurring in BJP-ruled states, where large numbers of Muslims have been forcibly rendered homeless. Recently, the Supreme Court has also spoken out against these bulldozer actions, placing a stay on them.

In hearing several petitions related to these demolitions, the apex court emphasized that India, as a secular country, cannot allow discrimination based on religion. The court also mentioned that it would soon issue nationwide guidelines to prevent such actions.

In this context, I wrote my article and shared it with my friends. Daya Shankar was one of the first to respond, offering criticism of both my work and my approach. Showing little concern for the bulldozer demolitions, Daya Shankar’s broader argument was that Muslims are the aggressors and that they refer to Hindus, including myself, as “kafirs.”

He went on to claim that my writings are often “pro-Muslim,” while, in his view, Muslims are exploiting Adivasi lands in Jharkhand and forcibly converting them to Islam. He also accused me of being “less concerned” about Adivasi issues and of prioritizing Muslims as the only minority group. Daya Shankar, an Adivasi student, further remarked that Islam fosters terrorism. In response to his comments and questions, I promised him I would address his points in writing.

I believe Daya Shankar’s opinion is largely shaped by the dominant Islamophobic discourse in the state. In the upcoming Jharkhand Assembly Elections, the BJP is playing the communal card, attempting to fracture Adivasi and Muslim unity to secure votes. Communal forces, with the support of the media, are constructing a narrative that Bangladeshi and Rohingya Muslim infiltrators are encroaching on Adivasi lands in the Santhal region and converting Adivasis to Islam through coercive methods, including the so-called ‘Love Jihad.’

Even Prime Minister Narendra Modi has raised this issue at electoral rallies in Jharkhand, raising the specter of Muslim infiltrators taking over Santhal tribal lands. At a recent rally in Jamshedpur, the Prime Minister made baseless and highly communal remarks aimed at polarizing voters along religious lines: “Infiltrators entering the state is a big issue… The state high court recently instituted an inquiry by an independent panel into such incidents. But the JMM government here is not ready to accept that illegal immigration is taking place in Jharkhand. In Santhal Pargana and Kolhan, infiltration by Bangladeshis and Rohingyas is a big threat. The identity and demography of this region is changing very fast” (The Economic Times, September 15).

What follows is my commentary on Daya Shankar’s criticisms of my work. I am choosing to share my reply publicly because of the growing anti-Muslim sentiment in the Adivasi regions of Jharkhand. For a long time, the Hindu Right has been working to create divisions between Adivasi and minority communities, such as Christians and Muslims. I fear that the poison of anti-Muslim hatred, which has already pervaded caste-based North India, is now spreading to the Adivasi regions. A symptom of this is the way Daya Shankar has developed a prejudice against Muslims. His questions do reflect this prejudice.

Daya Shankar: It seems like you have a strong affinity for Muslims, sir. I’ve noticed many of your posts tend to support or express sympathy toward them. Why is that?

Abhay: What’s wrong with having a strong affinity for Muslims? Would you deny the fact that India is a home to people of multiple religions and faiths? A large number of people who don’t follow any institutionalized religion are no less Indian. Take the Adivasi community, to which you belong, as an example. I have seen with my own eyes that rigidity about religious practices is least found among the Adivasi community. Unlike members of institutionalised religions, they hardly fight over religious structures. Similarly, there is no history of bloodshed over the correct interpretation of a holy text.

There are also groups of atheists who deny the existence of God and don’t accept that God is outside history. They, too, are equal citizens of India, and our Constitution grants them formal equality. But a negative trend is emerging in India with the rise of the Hindu Right, where a particular religious community is seen as the true Indians and loyal sons of the soil, while the rest—particularly Muslims and Christians—are viewed as belonging to non-Indic religions and therefore deemed untrustworthy.

The process of “othering” Muslims has a history of more than one hundred years in India. During colonial times, Hindu revivalist movements redefined the nation in terms of Brahmanical culture. When these revivalists realized that modern politics is based on numbers—put simply, that the majority community would rule over the minority—they sought to popularize Brahmanism by rebranding it as Hinduism. However, the upper-caste Hindu revivalists were only interested in tokenism, seeking to gain the support of the lower castes to defeat Muslim leadership and label them as “communal.”

It is true that our nationalist movement had many currents, including a strong secular one. However, Hindu nationalists managed to penetrate secular organizations and, under the guise of nationalism, promoted the interests of the upper-caste minority. In my view, the Partition of the country wasn’t engineered by any one leader. History often tends to cast one person as the hero and another as the villain, but we should avoid such simplifications.

Discrimination against Indian Muslims at the hands of the state is systemic. Governments have come and gone, but Muslims remain backward. Their representation in Parliament, legislative assemblies, and both public and private sector jobs is much lower than their share of the population, yet they are overrepresented in jails. They also suffer from communal riots, and their history and culture are not adequately represented in school textbooks. Even their homes are being demolished using bulldozers as punitive measures in BJP-ruled states.

Tell me, should we not demand justice for Muslims? Are they not equal citizens of India? Can our country progress if Muslims are kept backward? In a democratic and secular setup, no one should be discriminated against based on religion. If I have shown affinity for Muslims, and if my writings and activism have helped even a single Muslim, I would consider my life successful.

Daya Shankar: When a Muslim’s house is bulldozed, you express sympathy for them and their community. But don’t you also see how some Muslim extremists are mistreating and killing Hindus?

Abhay: Democracy is built on the rule of law. It cannot survive without secularism and respect for minority rights. Nowhere in a democracy is it justified to demolish the house of an accused or even a convicted person as a form of punishment. If I commit a crime, how could my family be made homeless? The law states that punishment must be proportional to the crime. For example, if I commit theft, I cannot be punished for murder. Numerous incidents have been recorded where houses and workplaces of Muslims have been bulldozed by BJP-ruled states as a punitive measure.

Human rights activists have documented that many victims of these bulldozer actions were those who had protested against government policies. The Constitution and the Supreme Court clearly state that peaceful protests cannot be suppressed. Dissent is a sign of a vibrant democracy. Yet, Muslims have been jailed, and their homes razed to the ground, simply for dissenting. How can anyone justify such bulldozer actions?

Well-known human rights organisations like Amnesty International have shown in recent reports that these actions violate both national legal procedures and international human rights standards. In most cases, victims were not given enough time to pursue legal remedies; their houses were demolished quickly, their family members beaten, and their lives ruined. The Supreme Court has intervened, placing a stay on these actions, and has promised to introduce nationwide guidelines to ensure no community is unfairly targeted.

Have I done anything wrong by speaking against bulldozer actions? You, as an Adivasi, can likely relate to this issue because Adivasis have been the most displaced people in the name of development since Independence. Whether it’s for dam construction, mining, or industrialisation, who is being displaced? We know the answer: it’s the Adivasis. Have you ever seen the houses of the rich being demolished? No, because they are powerful. Muslims’ homes are being demolished because they have been rendered powerless. These actions are designed to send a message to the minority community: if you raise your voice, you will be punished.

Let me make my point clear: a country cannot progress if any section of its society is mistreated or discriminated against. As a journalist, when I write about the issues facing marginalised communities, including Muslims, I am not doing charity. It’s the job of a journalist to highlight the struggles of the downtrodden.

As for your claim that Muslims consider you or me a “kafir,” that’s simply not true. Let me share my experience. I spent four years living in Sabzi Bagh, Patna, a predominantly Muslim area, during my graduation days. I never heard a Muslim call me a “kafir.” I’m not saying there aren’t a few Muslims who may believe this, but should we take them as representatives of the entire Muslim community? Likewise, many Hindus hold prejudices against Muslims, but should they be considered the spokespersons for all Hindus? I’m sure your answer is no.

I’ve even read the Quran, and it clearly teaches its followers not to disrespect people of other faiths, lest they, in turn, speak ill of Islam. The Quran emphasizes both worship of God and service to humanity, including non-Muslims, on numerous occasions. Islamic history shows that the Prophet Muhammad formed alliances with non-Muslims and advocated for fair treatment of all. Even during Muslim rule, with a few exceptions, minorities were protected.

I disagree with your unsubstantiated claim that Hindus are being killed by Muslims on a large scale. Show me any reliable source that proves Hindus are being persecuted. Yes, there are cases where a Muslim may kill a Hindu, or vice versa, but these are rare incidents. And in such cases, the law acts against the murderer. Your claim that Hindus are being killed by Muslims on a large scale simply isn’t true.

Daya Shankar: There is terrorism associated with Islam, and there are terrorists within the faith. I believe there is something fundamentally wrong here. Otherwise, why are so many terrorists emerging from just one religion?

Abhay: Terrorism is not connected to any particular religion. Terrorists can belong to any faith, or they may be atheists. There is no study proving that all terrorists are Muslims. Likewise, there is no reliable data showing that Muslim-run terrorist organizations are more numerous globally than those run by non-Muslims. In fact, Muslims are among the worst victims of terrorism.

If you examine the concept of terrorism, its definition is still not universally accepted. Historically, the image of a terrorist is dynamic. Someone seen as a terrorist today could be regarded as a freedom fighter tomorrow, and vice versa. Similarly, a freedom fighter in one country might be seen as a terrorist in another. Many scholars agree that the portrayal of Muslims as terrorists gained traction after the Cold War.

To truly understand terrorism, you need to explore its historical, political, and economic dimensions on both national and global levels. Viewing terrorism solely through a religious or cultural lens will not deepen your understanding. You also need to examine the link between terrorism and the arms industry. Ask yourself: Who benefits most from perpetuating a regime of insecurity?

Even in Adivasi areas, those fighting to protect their land and resources are often arrested by the state and charged under anti-terror laws. Do you consider them terrorists just because they are fighting for their rights?

I also disagree with your view that Islam is inherently violent. I have read the Quran many times, and nowhere does it instruct its followers to kill others. The core of the Quranic teachings revolves around the worship of God and the service to humanity.

Look at the life of the Prophet Muhammad. He always sought to build peace and avoid war. He only engaged in warfare when forced to, and even then, only in self-defense. Beyond self-defense, the Quran does not endorse violence. If you doubt my words, I encourage you to read the Quran yourself. I would be happy to provide you with a copy.

Daya Shankar: Are Muslims the only minority? What about Adivasis? Aren’t they minorities too? What have you done for the welfare of Adivasis and tribal communities?

Abhay: I have never claimed that Muslims are the only minority. Legally, minorities are often defined in terms of religion, and religion is certainly an important criterion. However, my understanding of minorities is influenced by the works of Babasaheb B.R. Ambedkar. In his small book States and Minorities, written around the time of Independence, Ambedkar offered a broader definition of minority. He argued that to consider a community a minority, one must assess its “social, economic, and educational condition.”

By Ambedkar’s definition, I firmly believe that Adivasis are a minority. Government data consistently shows that Adivasis are lagging behind on almost every development index. Worse still, misguided development policies have severely impacted their lives, livelihoods, and cultures. Their resources are being seized by the corporate-state alliance. Over the past 80 years, the demographic makeup of Adivasi regions has changed, with outsiders increasingly taking control of their resources.

However, there is no evidence to suggest that these outsiders are exclusively Muslims, nor is there any proof that Muslim outsiders have displaced Adivasis. Contrary to the claims of the Hindu Right, the history of Jharkhand shows that Adivasis and Muslims have shared a strong bond and lived in peace for a long time. In fact, most Muslims in Jharkhand are Pasmanda Muslims, who belong to the backward castes. The Ansari community, a large group within the Pasmanda Muslims, has traditionally been weavers, making fabrics for Adivasi regions.

Sociologically, Pasmanda and Dalit Muslims share many cultural practices with Adivasis, and there is no history of significant conflict between them. The rise of Hindu nationalist forces has injected the narrative of Islamophobia into this peaceful coexistence. The Hindu Right is eager to hold on to power in Adivasi regions to facilitate corporate exploitation of their resources. They understand that unity between Adivasis and Muslims is a major barrier to their political ambitions.

That’s why there’s a deliberate effort to create misunderstandings between Adivasis and Muslims. Weakening this unity not only undermines the prospects of secular parties but also opens the door for the Hindu Right to seize power. As defenders of the dominant interests in society, they often scapegoat Muslims, portraying them as a threat to the well-being of non-Muslims.

Daya Shankar: Adivasi lands are being grabbed by Muslim settlers, leading to the displacement and marginalization of the Adivasi people. What’s your take on this?

Abhay: As I mentioned earlier, the dominant forces in society often deflect attention from the real sources of exploitation by presenting Muslims as a threat. You’ve likely noticed that BJP leaders are focusing on supposed Bangladeshi and Rohingya infiltration in Jharkhand as the central issue in the assembly elections. Let’s assume for a moment that there is indeed infiltration from Bangladesh and Myanmar into Jharkhand. Should we blame the state government, led by an Adivasi chief minister, or the BJP-led Prime Minister Modi?

If foreign infiltrators are entering Jharkhand, what are our security agencies doing at the borders? Border security falls under the responsibility of the Union Government, which is led by Prime Minister Modi. Shouldn’t the focus be on what the Central Government is doing about this, rather than turning it into an election issue? There is no official data or statement to confirm this alleged infiltration in Adivasi areas.

I’m not denying that there could be isolated conflicts between some Adivasis and Muslims at the local level, but these are not part of a grand political design, nor do they pose a threat to national security. The narrative of Muslim infiltrators grabbing Adivasi land, abducting women, and forcing conversions is often amplified during election seasons to undermine the Adivasi chief minister and sway voters.

Daya Shankar: There have also been reports of Adivasis being coerced into converting to Islam. Will you ignore these issues?

Abhay: There is no credible evidence to suggest that Muslims are coercing Adivasis into converting to Islam. We live in a democracy—do you truly believe that, in such a system, a minority community could forcefully convert members of the majority? Have you met anyone personally who has complained of being forced to convert by Muslims?

If Muslims didn’t force Adivasis to convert during their rule before colonialism, do you think they are in a position to do so in post-independent India, when they are one of the most marginalized and discriminated-against communities? The media often spreads rumors about forced conversions by Muslims but remains silent on the long-standing efforts of the RSS to assimilate Adivasis into Hinduism.

If Adivasis were allowed to declare their religion in the Census, why is there no provision for this in a secular country? Have you ever considered that? Many Adivasis do not wish to be assimilated into Hinduism and are demanding official recognition of their Sarna religion in the Census. Yet, their demands have not been accepted. Isn’t this a more pressing issue?

Daya Shankar: Adivasi communities have faced violence, threats, and intimidation from certain Muslim groups. Will you deny these facts?

Abhay: As I mentioned earlier, there may indeed be local-level conflicts between Adivasis and Muslims. These situations can arise, for example, if an Adivasi is a landless laborer and a Muslim is a landowner—class conflict would naturally occur. Similarly, if a Muslim mason is constructing a house for an Adivasi, disputes over wages could happen. These types of conflicts stem from economic and class struggles, not religious differences.

I am not denying the existence of these occasional conflicts, but they are not indicative of a larger systemic problem between Adivasis and Muslims. What is often overlooked is the shared cultural and social realities between these two communities. Both Adivasis and Muslims are largely marginalized and underprivileged in states like Jharkhand, and both are victims of exploitation by the upper-caste elites.

There is no credible evidence or data suggesting that Muslims are the primary source of threats or violence against Adivasis. The bigger reality is that both Adivasis and Muslims face state discrimination and are victims of corporate exploitation. The focus should be on addressing these shared struggles rather than pitting one marginalized group against another.

Some Clarifications

Before I conclude, let me clarify that my response to Daya Shankar’s question is not exhaustive. Instead of delving into details, I have attempted to outline the broader issue. Some critics may argue that by addressing Daya Shankar’s case, I am unintentionally reinforcing the BJP’s narrative that Adivasis feel threatened by Muslims. To such critics, I would like to emphasize that I do not consider Daya Shankar to be representative of the entire Adivasi voice in Jharkhand. As I mentioned earlier, the Adivasi community is made up of several tribes, each with its own diversity. The BJP, too, is pushing the narrative of Bangladeshi and Rohingya infiltration more in the Santhal regions than in other parts of Jharkhand.

My aim in responding to Daya Shankar’s misunderstanding about Muslims and Islam is to highlight the larger communal discourse propagated by the Hindu Right and its media allies. In recent years, the influence of the Hindu Right has grown significantly in Jharkhand, and manufactured communal conflicts have become more frequent. My argument is that these anti-Muslim narratives are spreading quickly in Adivasi regions, and young people like Daya Shankar are falling prey to them. Therefore, the need of the hour is not to deny these negative trends but to actively work to counter them. We must highlight the shared cultural bonds between Adivasis and Muslims to challenge Hindutva propaganda.

I also want to clarify that this article is not intended to “educate” the Adivasi community about secularism and composite culture. I am fully aware of the limitations of my own identity as a Brahmin male raised in a caste-based society. My response should not be seen as didactic, but rather as a reflection of a particular moment. Nowhere am I claiming to teach Adivasis any lessons on secularism. On the contrary, I believe that Adivasi cosmology offers hope and wisdom for a society that is losing its way.

(Dr. Abhay Kumar is an independent journalist. His broad interests include minority rights and social justice. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com)

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