At first glance, one appears to be a labour struggle and the other a dispute over nomenclature. Yet viewed together, they reveal an important political trend. The emergence of local resistance to the convergence of economic dispossession and symbolic communal politics. These movements show that ordinary people often understand how struggles over jobs, land and livelihoods can be linked to disputes over identity and history, even when political leaders treat them as unrelated issues.

Giral Mines & “Benefits” from Development

Giral (often also spelled Girel/Girol in media reports) is a lignite-mining project located near Giral village in Barmer district, Rajasthan, about 43 km from Barmer city. The mine is operated by the state-owned company Rajasthan State Mines and Minerals Limited (RSMML). It was the first modern opencast lignite mine in Rajasthan after the closure of the Palana underground mine. Mining operations began in 1994 and commercial production started in May 1995. The Giral lignite field forms part of the larger Barmer Basin, which contains significant lignite deposits and has been the subject of geological and coal studies The mine was developed primarily to supply lignite to the

Giral Lignite Thermal Power Plant (GLTPP)

A major agitation began on 9 April 2026 and continued for weeks in Giral village. Protesters included mine workers, contract labourers, local youth, farmers and land-losers from surrounding villages. According to protesters and local residents, land in Thumbli-Giral and neighbouring villages was acquired by RSMML roughly three decades ago. Villagers allege that the acquisition was accompanied by assurances of local employment, preference to affected families as the long-term economic benefits from mining activities.

These claims form the central basis of contemporary agitation. The protesters’ principal demands reportedly have included: restoration of jobs lost by local workers, priority employment for land-losers and local youth, regularisation and protection of labour rights, action against alleged exploitation by contractors, payment of bonuses under the Bonus Act, 1965 and fulfilment of employment commitments allegedly made during land acquisition.

The Independent MLA of Sheo constituency, Ravindra Singh Bhati became the most visible political face of the agitation. On May 6–7, 2026, about two months ago, he joined the sit-in at Giral village and announced that he would remain with the protesters until their demands were addressed. Bhati joined the workers at the protest site, spent nights with demonstrators, participated in negotiations with the administration, and insisted that discussions include the contractors involved in mine operations. As frustration grew over the lack of progress, he led large protest mobilisations, including a march involving hundreds of vehicles to the Barmer Collectorate.

The agitation reached a dramatic turning point when Bhati attempted self-immolation on May 19 during a protest, drawing state-wide attention to the protest and increasing pressure on the administration. Yet the most tragic moment came on June 4, with the death of Jaisaram Meghwal, a worker associated with the agitation. His death transformed the movement from a labour dispute into a powerful symbol of the people’s sacrifice/martyrdom: the human costs of neglecting workers’ grievances.

Unlike many mining conflicts in India, the Giral agitation centred less on opposing mining itself than on demanding that the promises accompanying development be honoured

Islampur and the Defence of Historical Memory

While Barmer witnessed a struggle over livelihoods, Jhunjhunu witnessed a struggle over history.

The controversy began when a proposal was mooted by Jhunjhunu’s BJP MLA Rajendra Bhamboo to rename Islampur village as “Shrirampur.” Supporters described the move as a cultural correction. Residents of the village, however, saw it as an attempt to erase a historical identity that had existed for centuries.

According to local historical traditions, the village was founded by Islam Khan, an Afghan officer who served under the command of Rao Shekha Kachhwaha, the eponymous founder of Shekhawati. Another notable Afghan officer associated with the Shekhawat court was Farid Khan—later renowned as Sher Shah Suri—who is said to have served under Rao Shekha’s descendant, Raja Raisal Shekhawat. The presence of Afghan military officers in the service of the Shekhawats, together with the history of Jhunjhunu’s Kayamkhani rulers, who were Muslim Chauhans, reflects the region’s layered political and cultural landscape. These intertwined histories complicate rigid religious interpretations of Rajasthan’s past, revealing instead a history shaped by political alliances, military service, and shared regional identities that often-transcended confessional boundaries. For villagers, therefore, the name Islampur was not merely a religious marker. It represented a historical legacy linked to the region’s own evolution. Many residents argued that changing the name would not restore history but erase it.

What made the movement particularly noteworthy was its broad social character. Opposition was not limited to Muslims. Villagers from different backgrounds emphasised that the issue concerned heritage, local autonomy, and communal harmony. They questioned why a settlement that had existed peacefully under the same name for generations had suddenly become the subject of political intervention.

The movement gained wider visibility when Rajendra Singh Gudha joined the protests. Gudha participated in marches to the Jhunjhunu Collectorate and argued that Shekhawati’s history was rooted in coexistence rather than communal division. Highlighting the historical origins of Nawab Islam Khan, he maintained that place-names must reflect their history and should not be altered to satisfy contemporary political agendas, warning against transforming local heritages into a battleground for symbolic politics.

Residents submitted memoranda, organised padyatras, and presented historical records supporting the antiquity of the village’s name. In doing so, they transformed a naming controversy into a broader defence of historical memory and local self-determination.

Unlike many place-name controversies framed as Hindu-Muslim disputes, opposition in Islampur was articulated largely in terms of local history, administrative continuity and communal coexistence.

Rajasthan’s Democratic Legacy 

Post-princely Rajasthan witnessed important shifts in rural power. In many regions, the decline of traditional feudal powers did not eliminate local hierarchies but reconfigured them, with new dominant landed and political elites emerging alongside expanding corporate influence in recent decades.

In western Rajasthan and parts of Shekhawati, changing political coalitions altered the composition of local elites rather than eliminating unequal structures of rural power. The Giral and Islampur movements suggest that communities today are increasingly questioning both economic and symbolic forms of domination Although Giral and Islampur emerged from different circumstances, they illuminate two dimensions of the same political process.

Across India, economic insecurity has intensified through unemployment, contractualisation of labour, land acquisition, and unequal patterns of development. Simultaneously, public debate is increasingly dominated by disputes over names, monuments, historical symbols, and religious identities. These two developments are not always directly connected. Yet they frequently coexist in ways that benefit entrenched power structures. Economic grievances become fragmented while symbolic controversies occupy public attention.

The significance of reading Giral and Islampur together is not that they concern identical issues, but that both involve local communities asserting agency against decisions made elsewhere. In Giral, villagers questioned who benefits from extraction undertaken in the name of development. In Islampur, residents questioned who has the authority to redefine a region’s historical identity. The significance of these movements lies precisely in their refusal to accept the separation of material and cultural concerns. People require both livelihoods and dignity. Development without justice breeds resentment; attempts to reshape local history through top-down cultural politics can similarly provoke resistance. That shared insistence on local agency—over livelihoods in Giral and historical identity in Islampur—may be the most significant form of democratic resistance emerging in Rajasthan today.

(The author is a mechanical engineer and an independent commentator on history and politics, with a particular focus on Rajasthan. His work explores the syncretic exchanges of India’s borderlands as well as contemporary debates on memory, identity and historiography; he can be contacted on adityakrishnadeora@gmail.com)

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

Related:

Rethinking the ‘Rajput State’: The Neemuchana & Tiladi agrarian movements

When History substitutes Governance: Hindutva’s Politics of Manufacturing Pasts

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

Hindutva’s Rajasthan Project: Brahmin-Bania Power, not just Muslim baiting

The post Rajasthan: From Giral to Islampur, how locals are contesting development and historical identity appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In May 1925, state troops opened fire on protesting farmers in Neemuchana village of Alwar State in present-day Rajasthan. Five years later, in May 1930, another massacre unfolded at Tiladi Sera in the Rawain region of Tehri Garhwal. Though separated by geography, ecology, and language, the two movements reflected strikingly similar tensions over taxation, forests, customary rights, and the changing nature of native states in late colonial India.

The rulers were a retreating British colonial state.

Both movements emerged within princely states that colonial administrators categorised and later historiography continued to categorise as ‘Rajput States’.  Yet in both cases, the protesters themselves were overwhelmingly drawn from Rajput agrarian communities resisting policies imposed by those very states.

The Neemuchana Movement of Alwar State

In Rajasthan, the Rajput socio-political setup traversed through all three stages: a quasi-republican clan, the feudal state and the imperial power, sometimes all three existing simultaneously.

However, Professor Shail Mayaram notes that the most basic unit of the Rajput sociopolitical setup was a coparcenary bhaichara (brotherhood) which was always represented by the khamp (sub-lineage) headed by a chief. (Against History, Against State, p. 202)

The Alwar State was formed by the Naruka khamp of Kachhwahas in 1775. However, at Neemuchana Kisan Andolan in 1925, the Alwar King and the protesting farmers of Alwar belonged to the same Kachhwaha clan.

The protest itself was not unique in Rajasthan. Historian R. W. Stern documents the mobilisation of Jaipur State forces in the early 20th century, to subdue the Shekhawat clansmen of Sikar and arrest their chief Rao Raja Hardayal Singh of Sikar, a move that was met with fierce armed resistance from the Shekhawats, another Kachhwah subclan.

In the Essays on Rajputana, Lloyd Rudolph and Susanne Rudolph observe that the States were confronted with a dual task. First, to weaken the political power of the Rajput chiefs and agrarian clansmen who, despite having played a central role in the formation of these states, were increasingly perceived as threats to centralised authority. Second, to strengthen the State’s centralised governments headed by the King and led by the educated Brahmin elite and the wealthy Mahajan class i.e. Bania and Khatri elites. Efforts to regulate and control farmers and clan-based agrarian structures frequently generated clashes between State police and agrarian clansmen, even compelling minor States to seek colonial intervention for suppression.

In the context of Alwar, Rajesh Kumar writes “The third land revenue settlement in Alwar was revised in 1923-24 by Pandit N.L. Tikko, raising the annual total demand to Rs. 29,39,112. Under this new settlement the land revenue was increased by 50 per cent and no concession was given to the Rajput cultivators, instead their Biswedari rights were forfeited.”(Proceedings of the Indian History Congress,Vol. 73 (2012); pp. 794-798)

In October 1924, the farmers began the first agitation to cancel the rates of land taxation. By early 1925, the Biswedars across Bansur, Thanagazi, Neemuchana, Bamanwas began collecting in huge numbers. Led by Govind Singh and Madho Singh of Neemuchana, they approached the Akhil Bhartiya Kshatriya Mahasabha and published their grievances in a pamphlet titled “Pukar”. Apart from reversion to previous rates, they demanded cessation of auction of banjad (infertile) land, cessation of blockage at roads connecting Alwar and Bansur, abolition of begar, permission to kill wild animals destroying crops.

In response, the Alwar government began confiscating grain stocks from the Biswedars, a move that deeply angered Rajput cultivators across the region. Many of these farmers were veterans of the First World War and began collecting weapons in anticipation of armed confrontation. They began organizing in Neemuchana. On May 14, 1925, Neemuchana was surrounded by State forces. As per official figures, 156 farmers were killed, while non-official figures claim much higher numbers. The public outrage that followed enabled the British to force Raja into exile, although the extent of accountability faced by the minister N L Tickoo remains far less clear.

Tiladi Movement of Tehri Garhwal State

The region of Uttarakhand — Garhwal and Kumaon— was ruled by three Rajput dynasties for thirteen centuries: the Katyuris of Khas origins who united the entire region in the 8th century, the migrant Panwar dynasty who replaced them in Garhwal and the Chand dynasty who replaced them in Kumaon. Unlike Rajasthan, both the Garhwal and Kumaon states were established through the gradual consolidation of numerous hill chieftaincies, forts, and clan-based polities.

After the Gurkha invasion and Anglo-Gurkha war, the Kumaon state was permanently annexed by the British and the Garhwal state was divided into British Garhwal and the smaller Tehri-Garhwal, which was retained by the Panwar dynasty.

When the Tehri ruler Kirti Shah died, his minor son Narendra Shah ascended the throne. By the late 1920s, Narendra Shah had largely withdrawn from day-to-day governance and was living comfortably in Europe, leaving the administration in the hands of his Diwan, Chakradhar Juyal. Acting in the name of an absentee and politically inexperienced ruler, the Juyal administration embarked upon an ambitious project to construct a new capital, while simultaneously facing growing pressure from the British owing to the rapid expansion of railway infrastructure in the Himalayan region.

To finance these projects and strengthen state control over resources, the administration introduced a series of deeply unpopular measures in the Rawain region. These included a grazing tax of ₹1 per head on sheep and goats, restrictions on grazing rights, fodder collection, and fuelwood harvesting, as well as bans on local forest-based festivals and customary rituals. Such policies directly undermined the subsistence economy and customary rights of local communities, fuelling widespread resentment against the Tehri State.

Author and Human rights activist Vidyabhushan Rawat notes, “Access to forests, fishing, and even keeping cattle became restricted or criminalized. Local people were prohibited from collecting minor forest produce, while British settlers such as Frederick Wilson enjoyed vast forest leases, exporting pine and chir timber to Britain”

Bhoon Singh and Heera Singh of Nagaon; Ludhar Singh, Jaman Singh, and Dalpati of Barkot; Dayaram of Kanseru , Dhoom Singh of Chakargaon started organizing the farmers of Rawain valley. On May 20, 1930, four farmer leaders were arrested and presented before the SDM (sub-divisional magistrate) Surendra Dutt. To protest the arrests, the farmers gathered in huge numbers prompting the Divisional Forest Officer Padamdutt Raturi to open fire, killing three farmers. However, the protesters managed to forcefully, free their leaders.

On May 30, 1930, the protesters gathered in huge numbers in Tiladi Sera on Yamuna bank. Diwan Juyal ordered Colonel Sundar Singh to fire. Sundar Singh refused and was suspended. Natthu Sajjwan was appointed the next army chief and ordered to fire, killing at least eighteen protesters (as per official), although local accounts put the fatality at 60-80. Around 194 farmers were arrested and sixteen more died in custody.

Conclusion

The histories of Neemuchana and Tiladi complicate, rather nuance, over-simplistic understandings of princely India by revealing deep internal tensions between the elite classes emerging within princely capitals — royalty, bureaucratic elites, and wealthy mercantile interests — and rural farming communities, both landed and landless, amid mounting colonial economic pressures. The histories of Neemuchana and Tiladi ultimately undermine the very premise of colonial labels such as the “Rajput State”.

They highlight the growing alienation of largely uneducated Rajput farmers and the increasing dominance of Brahmin and Khatri bureaucratic elites and Bania capitalist classes within the centres of princely power. Questions of taxation, forests, customary rights, and administrative centralisation frequently produced conflict between ruling establishments and the very communities in whose name political legitimacy was claimed..

Recovering, rather re-discovering, these movements is therefore essential not merely for regional history but for understanding the changing nature of power in late colonial India. They remind us that the politics of princely India cannot be understood through simplified dynastic or communal frameworks alone. Beneath the formal authority of princely cabinets existed complex struggles over land, resources, administration, and political representation — struggles that continue to remain insufficiently remembered in mainstream accounts of Indian history.

(The author is a mechanical engineer and an independent commentator on history and politics, with a particular focus on Rajasthan. His work explores the syncretic exchanges of India’s borderlands as well as contemporary debates on memory, identity and historiography; he can be contacted on adityakrishnadeora@gmail.com)

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

Related:

Hindutva’s Rajasthan Project: Brahmin-Bania Power, not just Muslim baiting

September of Fear: Targeted Violence against Christians in Rajasthan exposes pattern of harassment after Anti-Conversion Bill

Rajasthan: Civil Society demands arrests, rule of law and end to minority targeting under anti-conversion law

PUCL slams recently passed Rajasthan anti-conversion bill as “draconian and unconstitutional”

The post Rethinking the ‘Rajput State’: The Neemuchana & Tiladi agrarian movements appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Given that most anti-Hindutva critiques in the media emerge from the more privileged Brahmin–Bania perspectives, they inadvertently reinforce this diversion—keeping the focus on “Rajput history” and “Muslim history” while avoiding deeper discussions about present-day skewed representation, social engineering, and economic power in the state.

The real project is social engineering to secure Brahmin dominance in politics, bureaucracy, and culture. Crucially, this dispensation operates in tandem with Bania corporates, who reap massive economic benefits while Brahmins provide ideological legitimacy.

Cabinet and Leadership: It is numbers that matter

In early 2024, the BJP’s elevation of Bhajan Lal Sharma as Rajasthan’s Chief Minister, C.P. Joshi as state party chief and Babulal Sharma as Jaipur prantpracharak, signaled a clear shift towards Brahmin-Raj: three top Brahmin leaders at the helm, despite Brahmins being a small fraction of the state’s population. Although, after some uproar, C.P. Joshi was replaced by Madan Rathore (from OBC Teli) as the State president.

RSS Supremacy and Institutional Capture

The RSS, dominated by Maharashtrian Brahmin leadership, directs this design.  Mohan Bhagwat, personally presided over major coordination meetings in Jodhpur held between September 5 and 7 this year, underlining Rajasthan’s importance in the evolution of a national Hindutva strategy. These gatherings link the BJP’s governance in the state directly to Sangh priorities: temple projects, Sanskritisation drives, and rewriting cultural narratives to affirm Brahmin custodianship of tradition. Rajputs, OBCs and SCs are recast as auxiliary players in a story authored by Brahmin ideologues.[1]

The increased focus on Maratha figures from the Peshwa period, despite their irrelevance or controversial relation with the state’s history. The state-level celebration of Ahilyabai Holkar, despite her irrelevance to the state’s history, illustrates this strategy. This can be contrasted with the state government’s ambivalence towards the NCERT’s recent Hindutva led revisions, although disfavouring the State’s own history which only exemplifies this attitude.

Bureaucracy: The Quiet Arm of Hegemony

It is within the bureaucracy is where the real engineering occurs. National studies confirm that Brahmins are heavily over-represented in senior IAS/IPS ranks despite being a demographic minority. Rajasthan has seen repeated controversies around promotions and selections, with Brahmin-Bania candidates favored over Rajput, SC, ST, and OBC aspirants. For instance, the chief secretary of Rajasthan, Sundhansh Pant and the Finance Secretary Vaibhav Galariya are both Brahmins. Further, nine of the 24 Officers deputed at the Chief Minister’s Office (CMO) are Brahmins — that is more than one-third. This pattern also reflects in appointments of Vice Chancellors & Judiciary. At Rajasthan University, 5 out of 8 Deans are Brahmins. Out of 32 government-run universities in Rajasthan, Brahmins were appointed as Vice-Chancellors in 11 — a striking overrepresentation for such a small demographic group.

Similarly, while several Brahmin and Bania officers currently serve as District Superintendents of Police, there is only one Rajput—and not a single Muslim—holding that position.

These administrative patterns influence which textbooks are printed, which religious boards receive funds, and which police cases are prioritised. The dominance of Brahmin officers ensures Hindutva’s agenda is implemented with sympathetic pro-Brahmin filters. For instance, both Sharma and Joshi (although no longer BJP State president but still highly influential) frequently attend events promoting Parshuram as a cultural icon — recently Sharma inaugurated a Parshuram Gyanpeeth.

Hence, institutional capture through selections ensures policy-shaping and policy enforcement in favour of the concerned castes — increased State funding towards the Vipra Boards, Vipra foundations, Brahmin-controlled Gyanpeeths, promotion of vegetarianism and selective application of cow protection laws highlight this policy-shift.

The Brahmin–Bania Axis

Recently, Shikhar Agrawal, the Additional Chief Secretary was given additional charge as chairman of RIICO. Rajasthan, particularly the Marwar region and Jaipur-Shekhawati belt, has been the traditional home of major capitalist Bania houses like the Birlas, Bajajs, Mittals, Godrejs, Jhunjhunwalas, Agrawals and Khatris. The Hindutva order in Rajasthan rests not only on Brahmin dominance in ideology and bureaucracy but also on the economic muscle of Bania corporates. Brahmins provide ideological legitimacy and administrative control; Banias provide capital, campaign financing, and media ownership.

Deregulation in mining, real estate, and energy overwhelmingly benefits Bania-controlled enterprises. Contracts in solar parks, cement, and infrastructure disproportionately go to groups like Adani, Birla, and Mittal. GST centralisation, championed by Bania networks has weakened smaller competitors while favouring large corporates.

The Adani Group’s explosive expansion into Rajasthan’s mines, solar projects, and logistics under BJP, the interests of the Birlas & Mittals in Cement, telecom, and education sectors safeguarded by policy, and Local Khatri & Mahajan networks thrive under SME-friendly reforms while enjoying bureaucratic protection, exemplify this. On the other hand, Rajasthani Muslims, historically strong in art, culture, handicrafts and local trade, are vilified to marginalise them economically. Similarly, ownership of farms and orans (grasslands) by small Rajput farmers and traditional heritage by Rajput elites is often attacked under the rhetoric of samantwad.  Thus, while the state actively promotes the economic hegemonies of Brahmins, Banias, and Jats — and popular civil society discourse normalises these — the same socio-political channels stigmatise Muslim businesses and undermine Rajput property ownership.

In short, Brahmin–Bania synergy ensures that while Muslims are scapegoated and Rajputs are historically and politically side-lined, the real beneficiaries are the Brahmin-Bania elites who monopolise both state power and wealth.

Mechanisms of Social Engineering

This institutional capture and policy favouritism, is guarded by many strategies of social engineering like controlling information, culture, and using media and cinema to mislead public discourse.

The control of information and culture has played a pivotal role in social engineering.
Curricula and festivals are increasingly tilted towards Sanskritic, Brahminised traditions, side-lining Rajasthan’s syncretic and regional heritage. Similarly, Rajput-Muslim syncretic culture, exemplified by Sufi-Nathjogi traditions like that of Gogapir, are disfavoured for a more Brahmin-centric orthodox traditions like that of Parshuram. Similarly, Rajput-Dalit heterodox traditions of Ramdevji Tanwar and Rani Bhatiyani remain under constant attacks of Brahminisation by the State. This helps clear more space for Brahmin social influence over other communities — normalizing both institutional capture and policy favouritism.

However, what is more discomforting is the means and strategies employed to protect this hegemony, especially the social ramifications on the communities projected as social-punchbags for narrative decoys.

Muslims and Rajputs as the Mobilising “Other”

Unlike the Persian-origin Ashraf elites of Lucknow and Hyderabad — Rajasthani Muslims are either SC and ST convert or Rajput converts. While Kayamkhanis of Marwar & Bikaner, Sindhisipahis of Jaisalmer, and Khanzadas of Mewat are Muslim Rajputs, others like the Mirasis, Rangrezs, Langhas, Meos have been part of the traditional culture of the Hindu Rajputs.

Anti-Muslim mobilisation remained difficult in most pre-accession princely states due to the Muslim proximity to the Rajputs. However, that has dramatically changed in the last few years with various social engineering strategies, particularly Sanskritisation and Kshatriyaiaation. Hence, despite being local ethnic groups and despite being well-integrated contributors to the pre-accession Rajput States, including the modern armies — the Muslims are projected as the Turkic or Mughal “other.”

Furthermore, Muslim-othering has been followed by self-contradictory anti-Rajput rhetoric — the samantwad rhetoric by Brahmin and Jat politicians on one hand, and the violent conflicts over identity of medieval-era Rajput kings and other feudal lords on the other. The militant claims by Jats and Gujjars over Mihirbhoj Pratihar, Anangpal Tomar, Prithviraj Chauhan are not spontaneous social phenomena but politically-planned social engineering, termed “Rajputisation”. In this, different historical Rajput warriors and saints are assigned to different OBC communities to create social clashes between Rajputs and various OBC castes.

Hindutva’s obsessive appropriation of Maharana Pratap serves three key objectives. First, it eclipses the broader social, economic, and cultural contributions of Rajput dynasties, from the Pratiharas of Mandore onward. Second, it casts the rest of the Rajputs as collaborators with the Muslim ‘other.’ Third, it diverts attention from Hindutva’s ongoing project of Rajputisation.

Hence, BJP-RSS’s social engineering protects its policy of allotting more political space to Brahmins and economic space to Bania corporates. However, such social engineering is further compounded by narrative decoys (eg. Haldighati inscription debates) planted in media and films.

Discourse Deflection: Karauli Riots and the Afwaah Irony

During the run-up to the 2022 State elections, the State witnessed communal tensions and riots in Udaipur, Jodhpur and Karauli.

In Udaipur, the gruesome murder of Kanhaiyalal Sahoo was milked by BJP for anti-Muslim social-tension, while Karauli witnessed communal clashes triggered by rumours during a procession. Amid the fear, Madhulika Singh Jadaun, and her relative Sanjay Singh sheltered Muslims in her home and saved lives. Being the real heroes against Hindutva polarisation, they are reported to have said “This is Hindustan and we are Rajputs, we are known to protect people and we will always do it. Irrespective of faith,”

This irony deepens when we turn to the cultural sphere. Set in a Rajasthan town, Sudhir Mishra’s film Afwaah (2023), portrayed how rumours and political manipulation escalate into violence. However, both Madhulika, a garments seller, and Sanjay, a technician, are forgotten a year later. Instead, the film starring Bhumi Pednekar and Sumit Vyas, cleverly placed Rajputs at the centre of anti-Muslim violence.

Furthermore, the obsessive discourse around the change of the Rakt-talai inscription accompanied by a complete silence over Rajput protests against NCERT’s recent revisions fuels a misleading narrative that positions Rajput history as a beneficiary of Hindutva revisionism—a claim flatly contradicted by the recurrent protests Rajputs themselves have mounted against Hindutva’s distortions of their history in recent years — which can be read here, here, here & here.

The BJP-RSS machinery in Rajasthan has pursued Brahmin dominance with remarkable consistency, yet this reality remains conspicuously absent from most critiques of Hindutva in the state — deflecting discourse towards Rajput-Muslim history and the false binary instead.

Conclusion:

The real dangers of Hindutva lies not merely in the hate it spreads, but in the social order it entrenches: a system where Brahmins and Banias, wield an outsized supremacy over Rajasthan’s politics, economy, and culture — while constantly scapegoating the Muslims and the Rajputs through popular literature and cinema.

(The author is a mechanical engineer and an independent commentator on history and politics, with a particular focus on Rajasthan. His work explores the syncretic exchanges of India’s borderlands as well as contemporary debates on memory, identity and historiography; he can be contacted on adityakrishnadeora@gmail.com)

1. https://www.newindianexpress.com/nation/2025/Sep/03/rss-all-india-coordination-meet-in-jodhpur-from-sept-5-to-7
2. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/jaipur/ahilyabai-holkar-statue-unveiled-on-jmc-h-initiative/articleshow/121541829.cms

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

Related:

September of Fear: Targeted Violence against Christians in Rajasthan exposes pattern of harassment after Anti-Conversion Bill

Rajasthan: Civil Society demands arrests, rule of law and end to minority targeting under anti-conversion law

PUCL slams recently passed Rajasthan anti-conversion bill as “draconian and unconstitutional”

The post Hindutva’s Rajasthan Project: Brahmin-Bania Power, not just Muslim baiting appeared first on SabrangIndia.