For a woman who had known nothing but tragedy, the notice was a final blow. She could not sleep. She cried alone. She thought she would die with the fear.

But on November 29, 2025, the Foreigners Tribunal No. 9 of Dhubri brought long-awaited relief. After a painstaking evaluation of evidence, the Tribunal declared Aklima an Indian citizen, dismissing the allegations of her being a foreigner. And the first words she uttered when she held the order were simple: “All I ever wanted at this age was peace.”

A life marked by loss

Long before the state questioned her citizenship, life had already taken almost everything from Aklima.

Born in Kaldoba Pt I to a “Deshi community” family, she had lived her entire life within a cluster of neighbouring villages. Her father, Sonauddin Sk, was a registered voter in 1971; her grandfather, Khusulla Sk, had voted in 1958. The family had lived in the region for generations — long before borders hardened imaginations.

After her marriage to Rahman Prodhani, she moved to Shernagar, where she continued building her life. She cast her first vote in 1997 from her matrimonial home — the same village where, years later, she would be labelled a suspected foreigner.

Then the tragedies began.

The Gangadhar River swallowed her agricultural land. A devastating storm swept away her hut. She lost her husband in 2009. With no children and no property left, she survived by working as a house help, staying either at her workplace or with her brother.

When the FT notice arrived, it felt like the final cruelty.

The notice that shattered what little she had left

A man in plain clothes arrived at her relative’s house with the suspected foreigner notice. Aklima was at work. When she came home and heard the words “police” and “court”, her body shook uncontrollably. Her first instinct was to hide the notice, but fear led her to seek help. She ran to community member Hasrat Zaman, a long-time CJP well-wisher, and placed the notice in his hands.

When the Citizens for Justice and Peace team first met her, she was terrified, fragile, recently ill, and unable to comprehend how she would defend herself.

Her tears wouldn’t stop. Her fear wouldn’t subside. And her documents — scattered, incomplete, and poorly preserved — were nowhere near what the Tribunal would demand.

But CJP refused to let her fight alone.

Aklima Sarkar with CJP Team Assam

CJP Steps In: Counselling, rebuilding confidence, restoring dignity

Before touching the documents, the team focused on what mattered most: making Aklima strong enough to fight.

They visited her repeatedly, counselling her, teaching her how to travel to Dhubri, how to speak in court, and how to face officials. Community volunteer Zaman took responsibility for accompanying her. CJP’s advocate Ishkendar Azad patiently explained every step of the legal process.

Only after stabilising her emotionally did the legal work begin.

The documentation struggle

What Aklima had in her possession was nowhere near enough:

• Aadhaar
• Voter ID
• Bank passbook
• Current voter list entry

To build a strong case, CJP had to reconstruct an entire lineage. They met her brother and village elders, applied for old documents, made visits to government offices, collected legacy documents, and arranged certified copies — all within the strict timelines of the Tribunal.

Key ancestral documentation eventually established

• Grandfather Khusulla Sk: Voter in 1958
• Father Sonauddin Sk: Voter in 1971
• Aklima herself: Voter in 1997 at Shernagar

This chain showed three generations of electoral presence — a critical requirement under Assam’s unique citizenship regime.

The final challenge was persuading witnesses. Her elder brother agreed to testify, and CJP volunteers coordinated with local Panchayat and Circle Office officials to support her appearance.

The Legal Battle: What the Tribunal found

Based on the order, the Tribunal made the following key findings:

1. An unbroken lineage inside India- The Tribunal accepted the documentary evidence establishing that Aklima’s grandfather and father were Indian voters long before 1971 — placing the family firmly within Indian territory prior to the cut-off date.
2. Consistent presence in Assam across decades- Aklima’s migration from her natal village to her matrimonial home was supported by:

• Electoral rolls
• Marriage affiliation
• Community certificates
• Supporting witness testimony

1. No evidence of foreign origin- The state could not produce any proof suggesting that she or her ancestors ever migrated from Bangladesh or any foreign territory.
2. A legally compliant, coherent narrative- The Tribunal found her documents to be authentic, consistent, and contextually accurate when read together.

As a result, the Tribunal declared that Aklima Sarkar is an Indian citizen and dismissed the reference case.

Aklima Sarkar holding up the Foreigners Tribunal order

The moment of relief

On November 29, 2025, CJP State In-Charge Nanda Ghosh, Advocate Ishkendar Azad, and community volunteers Habibul Bepari, Illias Rahman (Rabbi), Zaman, Digamber, and driver Asikul Hussain travelled to meet her and hand over the order copy.

She took the papers in her hands, held them to her chest, and cried.

She could not read the order — but she felt its meaning.

“Without you, I would have died with this tension. All I can give is my duaa.”

She insisted on serving tea. And in the cool evening breeze, with her smile returning after years, the team felt the quiet satisfaction of justice finally delivered.

For women like Aklima, who work as domestic labourers, lack formal education, and have lost ancestral land to erosion, navigating the FT system becomes nearly impossible without support.

Conclusion: Peace, finally — but at a cost no citizen should bear

Aklima Sarkar’s victory is not just a legal outcome — it is a reminder of what countless people in Assam must endure to prove something as basic as belonging to their own country.

Her tears, her trembling fear, her years of sleeplessness — all originated from a notice served “on suspicion”. For a widow who has lost land, home, health, and family, the simple right to live in peace had become a battle. Now, with the Tribunal affirming her citizenship, she finally has the peace she longed for.

The complete order may be read here.

Related:

When Erosion Stole Her Home, a Foreigners’ Notice Tried to Steal Her Citizenship: Hamela Khatun triumphs over foreigner tag

From Despair to Dignity: How CJP helped Elachan Bibi win back her identity, prove her citizenship

Assam BJP’s AI video a manufactured dystopia, Congress files complaint, myths exposed

CJP scores big win! Citizenship restored to Mazirun Bewa, a widowed daily wage worker from Assam

Assam’s New SOP Hands Citizenship Decisions to Bureaucrats: Executive overreach or legal necessity?

Bulldozing the Poor: Assam’s eviction drives for Adani project leave thousands homeless

The post From Suspected Foreigner to Recognised Citizen: Aklima’s fight for dignity and Indian citizenship appeared first on SabrangIndia.

“This report does not critique religion or its festivals. It examines whether public religious mobilisations are being used to spread exclusionary rhetoric and whether authorities are responding.”

Background: Sanatan Hindu Ekta Padyatra

Launched by prominent right-wing Hindutva leaders, the Sanatan Ekta Padyatra is being promoted as a socio-spiritual movement. Led by Dhirendra Krishna Shastri of Bageshwar Dham, the yatra was flagged off from Delhi with the stated objectives of establishing a Hindu nation, eradicating casteism, and fostering social unity. Scheduled from November 7 to 16, it passed through 422 village panchayats across Delhi, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh.

As part of the campaign, seven resolutions were announced, like promoting social harmony and supporting the “grand construction” of the Shri Janmabhoomi temple. The controversy primarily stems from the first and central resolution: the demand to declare India a Hindu Rashtra. This directly conflicts with the Constitution’s commitment to a secular state and violates the guarantees of freedom of religion under Article 25 as well as equality and non-discrimination under Articles 14 and 15.

However, the publicly stated resolutions tell only part of the story. Across multiple stops in Delhi, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh, several speakers, including the Padyatra’s principal organisers, delivered inflammatory speeches that went far beyond calls for spiritual unity or social harmony. These speeches invoked communal conspiracy theories (“love jihad,” “land jihad”), portrayed Muslims as demographic threats, justified vigilante violence, and openly advocated for religious segregation and economic boycotts. Many of these statements raise serious concerns under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), and established Supreme Court jurisprudence on hate speech and incitement. 

Details of the Hate Speech Delivered

Below is a consolidated analysis of the most objectionable statements made during the Sanatan Hindu Ekta Padyatra, grouped under 3 main themes and mapped against the relevant legal frameworks.
The reference links of the speeches, with timestamps mentioned, are given below-

Ghaziabad, Nov 3

Palwal, Nov 10

Palwal, Nov 12

Chhatarpur, Nov 14

Faridabad, Nov 8

Banchari, Nov 12

Mathura, Nov 15

Palwal, Haryana, Nov 10

Banchari, Nov 12

A.  Direct Hate Speech (Violence, Hostility, Social Boycott)

(Statements advocating violence, hostility, coercion, or social/economic boycott; calls for expulsion; explicit majoritarian supremacy)

Across multiple stops of the Sanatan Hindu Ekta Padyatra, speakers issued direct calls that clearly cross the constitutional threshold into incitement as interpreted in Amish Devgan and Shreya Singhal. In Ghaziabad (Nov 3), the speaker declared that India “should become a Hindu Rashtra” (0:39–0:42) and added that population decline “should happen to those who follow the ‘chadar’ and the ‘father’,” (1:17–1:20) a statement which the Supreme Court would classify as high-intensity dehumanising hate speech. Similarly, in Palwal (Nov 10), a public oath was taken to ensure that “love jihad and aaved dharmantaran will not be allowed” (0:20–0:27), effectively encouraging vigilantism against interfaith couples and converts. Under Patricia Mukhim, such statements, though framed as “protection,” amount to direct incitement toward unlawful acts.

In Delhi (Nov 7), hostility was escalated through demographic-war rhetoric: “tumhari sampatti tumhari hogi, kabza unka hoga” (2:30–2:44), and by invoking civilisational conflict through “ye desh Babar ka nahi, Raghuvar ka hai” (2:58–3:02). The Court in Amish Devgan specifically flagged the use of derogatory historical figures to mobilise hatred in the present. In Faridabad (Nov 10), a speaker warned: “jab desh lutega… tumhari beti love jihad mei pad jayegi… tumhara beta jis din shukravar ko jaane lagega,” (2:34–2:56) creating a direct incentive to treat Muslim men as targets of suspicion and implying moral justifications for coercive action.

Following the Delhi car blast, Dhirendra Shastri, addressing Palwal (Nov 12), asked: “yehi (Muslims) kyu aatangwadi hote hain?” (0:27–0:39), treating the entire community as terrorists. He further warned that unless Hindus united, bomb blasts like Delhi would occur “in every gali” (0:57–1:26), which satisfies the proximity test under Shreya Singhal. In Chhatarpur, MP (Nov 14), dissenters to Hindu symbols were told to “get their ticket to Lahore” (0:00–0:13), echoing classic expulsion rhetoric the Court has treated as unprotected. The chant recorded in Faridabad (Nov 8) — “tel lagao Dabur ka, naam mita do Babur ka; jo Ram ka nahi wo kisi kaam ka nahi” — directly targets Muslims through symbolic eradication. In Banchari, Palwal (Nov 12), speakers vowed to conduct compulsory “ghar wapsi” for those who had “left Sanatan” (0:29–0:46), amounting to a call for coercive reconversion, contrary to Shafin Jahan (Hadiya), which protects decisional autonomy in matters of faith.

Finally, in Mathura (Nov 15), spiritual leader Devkinandan Thakur invoked the Babri Masjid demolition (“4:20–4:50”) while urging the crowd to “move toward Mathura and Vrindavan,” hinting at mobilisation to claim the Shahi Idgah Mosque. The Supreme Court in the Ayodhya judgment warned that religious disputes must not be weaponised for incitement. These statements collectively amount to direct hate speech under Indian constitutional and criminal jurisprudence.

B. Discriminatory / Exclusionary “Othering”

(Normalising prejudice, othering minorities, delegitimising citizenship, religious tests for belonging)

Several speeches sought to redefine citizenship and community belonging in expressly exclusionary terms. In Ghaziabad (Nov 3), the speaker framed Hindu women as victims of Muslim men by warning that “our daughters fall into love jihad” (0:44–1:01), establishing a stereotype that casts Muslim men as predatory. He also suggested that Hindus “are not extremist,” implying that extremism is inherent to other communities (1:32–1:39). Such rhetorical othering aligns with what Patricia Mukhim describes as hate speech that delegitimises equal citizenship.

In Delhi (Nov 7), converts were described as outsiders: “Hindu issai mei converted hota hai toh ‘sister’ aur ‘sir’ kehlata hai… Hindu Musalman mei converted hota hai toh ‘bhai-jaan, amma-jaan’ kehlata hai,” followed by a suggestion that Hindus should first identify only as “Hindu” before any caste label (1:47–2:22). This constructs religious identity as the sole marker of national legitimacy. In Haryana (Nov 10), the crowd was asked if they want to see their children “wearing topi” or “going to church on Sunday” (0:04–0:25), depicting basic religious expression by minorities as inherently undesirable. The line “jab topi walo ki ekta ho sakti, toh tilak walo ki kyu nahi” (0:30–0:37) frames religious groups as competing blocs, contradicting the constitutional ideal of fraternity.

Kajal Hindusthani, in Palwal (Nov 10), urged the crowd to “be Hindus, buy from Hindus, employ only Hindus” (0:20–0:33), an explicit economic boycott. Section 196 of BNS emphasises that no citizen can be coerced into religious conformity; here, exclusion is extended to everyday economic life. In Chhatarpur (Nov 14), slogans like “jo Ram ka nahi, wo kisi kaam ka nahi” (0:24–0:33) reduce non-Hindus to second-class status. The DNA-testing analogy used to delegitimise dissenter’s mirrors what Amish Devgan classifies as dehumanising metaphors, which have no constitutional protection. In Banchari (Nov 12), Nagendra Maharaj’s line— “those who object to Vande Mataram or Ram should go to Pakistan or Afghanistan” (0:33–0:41)—constructs a religious test for belonging, contrary to the secular character upheld repeatedly by the Supreme Court.

Such statements normalise hostility and social exclusion, and the Court in Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan explicitly warned that such majoritarian narratives fuel discrimination and justify vigilantism, attracting Sections 196 (Promoting enmity between different groups), Section 197 (assertions prejudicial to national integration), and Section 299 (Deliberate acts, intended to outrage religious feelings).

C. Fearmongering & Demographic Conspiracy Claims

(Alarmist misinformation about population, survival, territorial takeover; invoking existential threat narratives)

A consistent theme throughout the padyatra was the portrayal of Hindus as being on the verge of demographic extinction. In Ghaziabad (Nov 3), the speaker claimed that Hindus are “khatam ho rahe hai” despite India’s overwhelming Hindu majority, and that once “Hindus do not unite, they will not be safe” (1:55–2:06). He also asserted that Hindus are declining “day by day” (1:04–1:16), ignoring census realities. This comes under spreading demographic conspiracy narratives constitutes incitement because it fosters suspicion and hostility against minorities.

In Delhi (Nov 7), the crowd was told that “20 saal baad, Bharat ka Hindu apne astitva ki ladai lad raha hoga” (0:38–), and that minorities would seize Hindu property: “sampatti tumhari hogi, kabza unka hoga” (2:30–2:44). Such claims resemble classic “replacement” conspiracy theories. When combined with militaristic lines like “na toh pad rehna hai, na kad rehna hai” (0:55–0:58), the rhetoric urges mobilisation against an imagined security threat. In Haryana (Nov 10), Partition was invoked (“Jinnah ki leadership mein… alag Pakistan bana”), followed by an analogy that if “Sanatan Dharma ke naam par” India does not become a Hindu Rashtra, it will face a “Bangladesh-like situation” where “haq kisi aur ka hoga” (1:53–2:06). The Supreme Court in Pravasi Bhalai explicitly noted that selective historical parallels are often used to trigger fear and justify majoritarian aggression.

After the Delhi blast, Dhirendra Shastri claimed that unless Hindus unite, “aisa har gali mein hoga” (0:57–1:26), and asserted that the arrested individual— “doctor, musalman… crore-o ki jaan lene ki tayaari”—was preparing mass murder, furthering the narrative that Muslims pose a blanket existential threat. Fear of demographic loss was also invoked repeatedly: in Delhi (Nov 7), the claim that Hindus have become minorities in “9 states” is factually incorrect yet presented as imminent collapse. In Banchari (Nov 12), Nagendra Maharaj warned that Hindus could be “expelled from their homes like Srinagar,” framing political developments as religious persecution.

Such narratives fall squarely within the Supreme Court’s treatment of misinformation that has a proximate connection to public disorder (Shreya Singhal). Fearmongering of this kind shifts the public mindset from coexistence to hostility, creating conditions for violence without issuing explicit violent commands.

Legal Framework

India’s constitutional and statutory framework places clear limits on speech that promotes enmity, incites violence, or undermines the country’s secular structure. Several statements delivered during the Sanatan Ekta Padyatra appear to contravene these provisions.

Constitutional Provisions

Various provisions of the Indian Constitution safeguard against hate speech and communal othering.

1. Article 14 — Equality before law

Communal othering, demographic fear-mongering, and calls for exclusion (“be Hindus, buy only from Hindus”) violate the constitutional guarantee of equal protection to all communities.

2. Article 15 — Non-discrimination on grounds of religion

Calls for a ‘Hindu Rashtra’, alongside statements urging economic segregation, employment discrimination, or “ghar wapsi” of all converts, contradict the constitutional prohibition against discrimination on religious grounds.

3. Article 19(1)(a) & 19(2) — Freedom of speech and its reasonable restrictions

Speech that threatens public order, incites violence, or promotes communal disharmony falls squarely within the restrictions permitted under Article 19(2).
The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that advocacy crossing into incitement is not protected speech.

4. Article 25 — Freedom of religion

Sections of the BNS

1. Section 196 of BNS: Promoting enmity between different groups on grounds of religion, race, place of birth, residence, language, etc., and doing acts prejudicial to maintenance of harmony

(1) Whoever—

• by words, either spoken or written, or by signs or by visible representations or through electronic communication or otherwise, promotes or attempts to promote, on grounds of religion, race, place of birth, residence, language, caste or community or any other ground whatsoever, disharmony or feelings of enmity, hatred or ill-will between different religious, racial, language or regional groups or castes or communities; or Liability of owner, occupier, etc., of land on which an unlawful assembly or riot takes place. Affray. Assaulting or obstructing a public servant when suppressing a riot, etc.
  (b) commits any act which is prejudicial to the maintenance of harmony between different religious, racial, language or regional groups or castes or communities, and which disturbs or is likely to disturb the public tranquillity;

2. Section 197 of BNS: Imputations, assertions prejudicial to national integration.

(1) Whoever, by words either spoken or written or by signs or by visible representations or through electronic communication or otherwise, —

(a) makes or publishes any imputation that any class of persons cannot, by reason of their being members of any religious, racial, language or regional group or caste or community, bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India as by law established or uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India; or

(c) makes or publishes any assertion, counsel, plea or appeal concerning the obligation of any class of persons, by reason of their being members of any religious, racial, language or regional group or caste or community, and such assertion, counsel, plea or appeal causes or is likely to cause disharmony or feelings of enmity or hatred or ill-will between such members and other persons; or

3. Section 299: Deliberate and malicious acts, intended to outrage religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs. 

Whoever, with deliberate and malicious intention of outraging the religious feelings of any class of citizens of India, by words, either spoken or written, or by signs or by visible representations or through electronic means or otherwise, insults or attempts to insult the religion or the religious beliefs of that class, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to three years, or with fine, or with both.

4. Section 352: Intentional insult with intent to provoke breach of peace.

 Whoever intentionally insults in any manner, and thereby gives provocation to any person, intending or knowing it to be likely that such provocation will cause him to break the public peace, or to commit any other offence, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to two years, or with fine, or with both.

5. Section 353: Statements conducing to public mischief.

 (1) Whoever makes, publishes or circulates any statement, false information, rumour, or report, including through electronic means—

(b) with intent to cause, or which is likely to cause, fear or alarm to the public, or to any section of the public whereby any person may be induced to commit an offence against the State or against the public tranquillity; or

(c) with intent to incite, or which is likely to incite, any class or community of persons to commit any offence against any other class or community, shall be punished with imprisonment which may extend to three years, or with fine, or with both.

Judicial Precedents

Indian constitutional jurisprudence has consistently sought to balance freedom of expression with the imperative of preserving public order, equality, and the secular fabric of the nation. While there is no universally accepted definition of ‘hate speech’, the Supreme Court has laid down clear principles that define when speech crosses the boundary from protected expression into unlawful incitement or communal hatred.

The foundational judgment in Kedar Nath Singh v. State of Bihar (1962) affirmed that criminal provisions affecting speech must be interpreted narrowly. The statute is constitutionally valid only to the extent it punishes speech that has the intention or tendency to create disorder or incitement to violence or disturbance of law and order.

The Padyatra speeches, alleging demographic conquest, “love jihad,” and calling for social boycotts and vigilante resistance, demonstrate a direct intention to cause disharmony between religious groups travelling through communally sensitive regions of Delhi, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh. The route’s culmination at Banke Bihari Temple, Vrindavan, a site recently embroiled in controversy, heightens the imminent potential for communal mobilisation.

A decade later, Kesavananda Bharati v. Union of India (1973) reaffirmed the inviolable constitutional commitment to secularism, equality, and fundamental rights by introducing the Basic Structure doctrine. Through this, the Court held that any attempt, legislative or otherwise, that undermines the secular character of the Republic would be unconstitutional at its core. This principle shapes the broader legal environment within which communal speech is assessed.

On debates around ‘love jihad’ and ‘illegal conversion’, the Supreme Court in the Hadiya Marriage Case (2018), held that the right to marry a person of one’s choice is integral to Article 21, and the choice of a partner lies within the exclusive domain of an individual, and is a part of the core zone of privacy, which is inviolable.

The modern understanding of hate speech was articulated in Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan v. Union of India (2014), where the Supreme Court held that

Hate speech is an effort to marginalise individuals based on their membership in a group. Using expression that exposes the group to hatred, hate speech seeks to delegitimize group members in the eyes of the majority, reducing their social standing and acceptance within society. Hate speech, therefore, rises beyond causing distress to individual group members. It can have a societal impact.

Responding to this mandate, the Law Commission’s 267th Report proposed a structured framework for understanding hate speech. Para 5.2 laid down the criteria for identifying hate speech:

(i) The extremity of the speech

(ii) Incitement

(iii) Status of the author of the speech

(iv) Status of victims of the speech

(v) Potentiality of the speech

(vi) Context of the Speech

The Court’s earlier ruling in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India (2015) further clarified that only speech amounting to “incitement to imminent lawless action” can be legitimately restricted under Article 19(2), reinforcing the centrality of context, intent, and likely consequences.

In Patricia vs State of Meghalaya (2021), the Supreme Court quashed a FIR against a journalist, concluding that the post was a genuine plea for justice and equality rather than an attempt to promote hatred or communal discord. In Amish Devgan v. Union of India (2020), the court further stated that: the mode of exercise of free speech, the context and the extent of abuse of freedom are important in determining the contours of permissible restrictions.

Aftermath of Padyatra

The Sanatan Ekta Padyatra triggered immediate political and social pushback across several states. The Azaad Samaj Party (ASP) condemned the march on constitutional grounds, arguing that India’s identity as a secular republic cannot be undermined by a public movement openly calling for a “Hindu Rashtra.” ASP formally petitioned the President to halt the yatra, while the Dalit Pichda Samaj Sanathan (DPSS) joined ASP in filing a PIL before the Supreme Court seeking a complete stop to the march and a ban on its “inflammatory” speeches. In response, Gwalior-based politician Damodar Singh Yadav announced a counter-mobilisation titled the Samvidhan Bachao Yatra, set to begin on November 16, framing it as a defence of constitutional values.

On the ground, several areas witnessed unrest directly linked to the padyatra. Samagra Bharat reported that on 9 November in Indergarh (Datia district, MP), residents gathered at Ambedkar Park and attempted to burn an effigy of Dhirendra Shastri, alleging that his speeches promoted caste humiliation and communal hatred. Members of the Hindu Sangathan retaliated with stone-pelting, leading to a police lathi-charge when tensions escalated. Locals later filed an FIR against Shastri, but authorities have taken no concrete action. A week later, on 17 November, Patrika reported a scuffle at Vrindavan’s Banke Bihari Temple during Shastri’s visit, where a confrontation between temple priests and the police resulted in torn garments and allegations that the padyatra’s politicised presence compromised the sanctity and security of the temple premises.

Broader Pattern of Impunity towards Hate Speeches

The fallout from the padyatra reflects a broader pattern in which communal mobilisation and hate speech by far-right Hindutva leaders are met with minimal institutional response. India has witnessed repeated episodes of religiously charged violence—such as the 2019 lynching of Tabrez Ansari in Jharkhand, where the victim was forced to chant “Jai Shri Ram”—and mass events like the 2024 Ayodhya Ram Mandir consecration have increasingly become sites for majoritarian mobilisation. Despite this backdrop, police responses remain inconsistent, especially when politically influential individuals are involved. NDTV reports that although five FIRs were filed over two years against BJP legislator T. Raja Singh for comments such as “The Old City of Hyderabad is a mmini-Pakistan” two were closed, and the remaining three have seen no decisive progress.

Legal scrutiny has extended to Baba Dhirendra Shastri as well, with multiple complaints for delivering hate speeches in Udaipur, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh. In 2023, a PIL before the Gujarat High Court sought enforcement of the Supreme Court’s Tehseen Poonawalla guidelines—requiring preventive intelligence units, immediate action against hate speech, and punitive steps against officials who fail to curb mob violence—but the petition was declined. This pattern of judicial reluctance, combined with police inaction, underscores a systemic tolerance toward inflammatory communal rhetoric, even when it directly violates constitutional guarantees and statutory prohibitions under the BNS. The result is a public environment where speeches like those delivered during the Sanatan Ekta Padyatra, openly calling for a Hindu Rashtra and targeting minority communities, continue largely unchecked, emboldening majoritarian mobilisation while eroding constitutional safeguards.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this has been worked on by Shyamli Pengoriya)

Related:

Targeted as ‘Bangladeshis’: The hate speech fuelling deportations

India Hate Lab Report 2024: Unveiling the rise of hate speech and communal rhetoric

2024: CJP’s battle against communal rallies before and after they unfold

Exclusion at the Gate: Navratri becomes the new front for communal politics

Hate Has No Place in Elections: CJP moves State EC against BJP MP Ashwini Choubey’s communal speech

The post The Politics of Processions: How the Sanatan Ekta Padyatra amplified hate speech in plain sight appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Uttar Pradesh government claims to have only applied to withdraw the prosecution against Mohammad Akhlaq’s killers and that this request will be decided by a judge at the next hearing scheduled for December 12, 2025. However, when viewed through the lens of the history of this case, the timeline for this case, and the current political climate surrounding this case, it is evident that the actions taken by the Uttar Pradesh Government in withdrawing the prosecution against those responsible for lynching Mohammad Akhlaq are not only withdrawing from having any responsibility for pursuing justice but are also an example of how for the past 10 years the government has systematically neglected this case, given political support to those accused of this heinous crime and created an environment of hostility toward the family of Mohammad Akhlaq.

The circumstances surrounding the lynching of one man’s father are now much broader than that man’s father’s murder. The current circumstances have become a long-term narrative about what a state can create over time and distribute through state-sponsored actions, as well as about eliminating any ultimate responsibility associated with that state.

September 28, 2015: The Night that Violence knocked on a Family’s Door

A news announcement spread through the Bisada Temple loudspeaker about animals being slaughtered resulted in the instant transformation of an unsubstantiated rumour into a murder sentence. A mob descended on the home of 50-year-old Mohammad Akhlaq and his family within minutes of the announcement being made, and forcibly removed Akhlaq and his son from the property, beating both Mohammad and his son Danish with sticks and metal rods, not stopping until their bodies lay in a pool of their own blood on the street in front of their house. Akhlaq died as a result of the beating he received; Danish survived but required immediate neurosurgery. This particularly brutal act of violence was planned by those committing the act, as well as the community, through the use of whisper campaigns, political pressure, and the manipulation of the emotional appeal of cow-vigilantism. These events were reconstructed in detail by Sabrang in “Akhlaq’s Lynching: 7 Years On – Only 1 of 25 Witnesses Testifies; Trial Reaches Evidence Stage”.

The FIR that was filed at the Jarcha Police Station references the appropriate sections related to charges of murder, attempted murder, rioting, and unlawful assembly. The nature of the charges against those involved in this act of violence was virtually disregarded from the day it occurred, and politicians, media, and community leaders received ample time to speculate on whether there were indeed any cow products found in Akhlaq’s home before the death of Akhlaq. Public and political perceptions and narratives surrounding the event changed shortly after the announcement of Akhlaq’s death. Sabrang’s “Meet Hari Om: Part of the Mob That Killed Mohd Akhlaque” further illuminated individual roles and admissions from those involved.

The use of the murder scene is an attempt to portray or manipulate the public perception of the incident as a religious act motivated by slights to the religion of Islam.

The Investigation: Charges Filed, yet Justice Already Compromised

The police in Gautam Buddha Nagar, in its first chargesheet, named 15 main accused, including a juvenile and a local BJP leader’s son, along with 25 witnesses. Four more accused were later added, bringing the total to 19. One of them died in 2016. The prosecution has appeared to take its course through the court system; however, beneath the surface, evidence is starting to show that political pressure has compromised the investigation, as well as apathy within the institutions involved.

The Forensic Report coming out of Mathura stated that the sample of red meat taken from the house of a man who was killed had belonged to “a cow or calf,” and it changed the trajectory of this case completely. The family of the victim immediately alleged that their sample was switched. Furthermore, the timing of when the forensic report was delivered raised suspicions because the mob attacked based on a rumour and not the forensic evidence from a laboratory; however, the public debate quickly shifted away from the circumstances surrounding the killing and focused on the purported evidence.

The major shift in this case happened in 2016 when a court in Surajpur ordered that an FIR be filed against the surviving family members of Akhlaq, and thus turned the focus of the case completely upside down. At that point, the surviving family members were already grieving, emotionally traumatized, and socially isolated, and now faced with the criminal allegations of cow slaughter. This whole methodology set forth a structure by which a lynching victim is presumed guilty, while the people who committed the act are presumed to be victims.

2015–2017: Delay, Bail, and the Slow Death of Due Process

The public often forgets that the justice system did not simply fail in 2025; it faltered every year since 2015.

Bail was granted to each of the accused, with repeated adjournments of court hearings and extremely slow progress in witness testimony. Sabrang’s reporting, including “All Killers of Mohammad Akhlaq Get Bail in Dadri Lynching”, captured how each bail order was met with political celebration, further chilling the environment for witnesses. As of December 2017, the trial had barely progressed past the evidence stage. Multiple important witnesses were reluctant to testify in a public courtroom and thus did not receive adequate witness protection. The handling of police transfers caused inconsistencies in the investigation and prosecution of the case. At the same time, the family of the victim suffered from social isolation in Bisada as a result of the crimes, ultimately ending in them being forced to leave their homes. The victim’s family reported receiving threats during this period, and in the village itself, residents celebrated when defendants were released from custody on bail, where they were photographed with local BJP leaders, recognized for their “innocent status” as Hindu youth, celebrated, and received garlands as gifts.

Each public display of support for the accused was another blow to the victim’s family and a message to the justice system.

National Outrage: The Award Wapsi Moment and a Fading Democratic Landscape

In October 2015, there was a lynching and it sparked one of the largest cultural protests of the decade, known as the Award Wapsi Movement. The writers who participated in this movement, such as Nayantara Sahgal, Ashok Vajpeyi, Sara Joseph, Shashi Deshpande and others, all returned their Sahitya Akademi awards to protest against the continued violence. Their action collectively raised awareness of a growing intolerance in the country and directly referred to the lynching of Akhlaq as a moment of moral decline.

The state’s response to the writers was hostile. The government ministers called all of the protesting writers “politically motivated”. An RSS publication even went so far as to quote from the Vedas to imply that cow slaughter justified the death penalty. The Chief Ministers of several states issued statements demanding that any Muslims who consume beef should “go to Pakistan”. These were not isolated statements or the thoughts of a few fringe political groups; they illustrate the political environment that was influencing decisions regarding this case.

However, the anger and activism surrounding this event was short-lived. Today, ten years after the lynching took place and as a result, the state is withdrawing prosecution against those who committed the lynching, the anger expressed by people in 2015 has turned into a sense of quiet fear. Many of the once bold voices have become relatively quiet due to harassment, intimidation and surveillance. The transition from a period of protest to a time where most people are silent does not reflect a changing belief system; it is an indication that democracy has become less expansive.

Legal and Constitutional Problems with the Withdrawal

A major point of contention in regards to the state of Uttar Pradesh’s motion to dismiss was that there was no new exculpatory evidence in support of the defendant. Several media reports indicate that the state’s filing primarily relied on the assertion that there were “inconsistencies” in the witnesses’ testimonies and that social harmony was at risk. Such vague assertions do not meet the legal standards outlined in the jurisprudential interpretation of Section 321 of the CrPC. A defendant cannot be dismissed unless there is newly discovered evidence that would fundamentally alter the state’s case against him. In this case, the medical evidence substantiating Akhlaq and Danish’s injuries and the contemporaneous FIR, and the eyewitness accounts all consistently corroborate the state’s case against them. In similar instances, courts have continued to deny a motion for dismissal. A trial court should require that the state produce a complete and thorough review of the prosecution’s case file, as well as a detailed affidavit from the Prosecuting Attorney detailing changes to the evidence that would justify the dismissal of the case.

Further, the application seems to ignore the very explicit requirements laid out by the Supreme Court in Tehseen S. Poonawalla v. Union of India (2018). The Supreme Court held that mob lynching constitutes a separate social and constitutional emergency and requires immediate intervention. The Court ordered each state to create a “fast track mechanism” for lynching cases, appoint a nodal official, enforce preventive protocols, create strong witness protection systems, and hold police accountable for their failures

Withdrawal attempts in pending lynching trials must be considered in light of whether the state complied with the aforementioned Supreme Court’s orders. The Tehseen Poonawalla case mandates are binding on trial courts. The trial court in Gautam Buddha Nagar must consider whether the state has satisfied its obligations in this matter, and whether permitting withdrawal would defeat the entire remedial framework the Supreme Court established for addressing lynching.

In addition to the requirement to uphold statutory obligations, a factor that should also be of utmost importance for the state is whether the withdrawal has the potential to serve the ‘public interest’. Lynching is not just a crime committed against an individual; it also attacks the rule of law, social order, and equitable treatment of all individuals under the Constitution. A significant deterrent effect exists not just because offenders are punished, but because lynching demonstrates a systematic and transparent application of justice through our court systems. Discontinuation of a lynching prosecution has the potential to increase the likelihood of similar acts of vigilante violence. A decision by the court to withdraw this case must take into account how that decision will affect the larger community, particularly how it sends a message to vulnerable communities. In essence, Articles 14 and 21 of the Constitution impose a duty on the Government to provide protection for life and to ensure that all persons are treated equally under the law. Accordingly, if a withdrawal occurs without adequate justification, which can only be supported through the use of clear and convincing evidence, the function of the Criminal Justice System as a protector will be diminished.

Take into account the possible influence of political factors; as noted in Sabrang’s coverage of the ceremony honouring the defendants, there were reports of assurances given to the defendants, and those reports provide essential contextual background for this case. In addition to the reports from Sabrang, what is also important to take into account are the instances of political patronage that have been shown to exist, be it via public demonstrations of support for persons who were accused or by statements made by politicians elected into office, or through institutional signals indicating support.

In other words, the very existence of political patronage creates a duty upon the court to view any motion to withdraw from prosecution through the prism of “political expediency.” A court must exercise vigilance over any motion to withdraw from a criminal prosecution, especially if it appears that political factors were involved in the decision-making process for prosecuting the case. A court must ensure that there is a clear distinction between prosecutorial discretion exercised for legitimate purposes versus prosecutorial discretion exercised under pressure from the Executive. If the court finds that an order to withdraw from a criminal prosecution merely serves the purpose of political expediency and does not promote the cause of justice, the court should deny any request made for an order to withdraw.

The Survivors: A Family Forced into Silence and Displacement

Victims and Witnesses’ Rights also require Judicial Attention. The family of Mohammad Akhlaq has experienced significant social hostility and displacement, and has been subjected to delays caused by the judicial process for nearly 10 years. Their right to be heard cannot be extinguished solely because the State wishes to withdraw from the trial. Victim Impact Hearings have been required by Courts, and/or Intervention Applications have been allowed for cases that are of large Public Interest. In a case as emotionally charged and symbolic as the Dadri Lynching, the Trial Court has an obligation to provide an opportunity for the survivors to be heard before any decision on withdrawal is made. Providing an opportunity for survivors to be heard acknowledges their constitutional rights to be heard as participants in the justice system and as complainants.

Justice Delayed, Denied, and Now Intentionally Buried

Ten years ago, the brutal murder of Akhlaq led to the emergence of a violent clash between Hindu cow vigilantes and India’s Muslim community, bringing to light the inaction (or complicity) of India’s various governmental and judicial institutions at all levels. Therefore, the prosecution attempt by the State of India to withdraw prosecution against the accused in this case today is not just a legal step but finalizing the death knell of accountability.

The failure of the Justice System was a deliberate and systemic failure at ALL levels of the Indian Judiciary, Executive, and Legislative System. The Justice System failed by creating the accused families as the “accused”; the Justice System failed by honouring the accused; the Justice System failed when judgment was delayed for 10 years; and once again, the Justice System failed if the State successfully withdraws the prosecution against the accused men.

If the Court allows the State to withdraw the prosecution, not only does it allow fifteen men to go free of blame, but it endorses and supports a decade of continuous state violence against marginalized communities so that the so-called “majority” can avenge their “honour”. It sends a message to all marginalized communities that justice will always be conditional, temporary, and rescindable by the State at will.

A government that has been elected through a democratic means should be there to ensure the safety of its citizens. In the example of Mohammad Akhlaq, however, rather than protecting him, the government protected those who killed him by their indifference, inaction, and now erasing his memory.

Akhlaq was killed quickly due to violence. The violence done to Akhlaq by the failure of the system to find justice for him was done by a systematic approach to violence. Unless the courts take immediate action, Akhlaq will no longer have the chance to see justice served against those who killed him.

The judgment in Tehseen S. Poonawalla v. Union of India can be read here.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Preksha Bothara)

Related:                                                               

The Lynching of Mohammed Akhlaq

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Akhlaq’s Lynching: 7 Years on, Only 1 of 25 Witnesses Testify as Trial Reaches Evidence Stage

Meet Hari Om, part of a Mob that killed Mohd Akhlaque

Akhlaq’s Killers from Dadri Assured Job in NTPC by BJP MLA: Impunity Surpassed

All Killers of Mohammed Akhlaq Get Bail : Dadri Lynching

FIR Against Akhlaq’s Family Travesty of Justice, UP Govt Must Intervene

The post A Decade after Bisada: Why Uttar Pradesh’s attempt to drop the Akhlaq lynching case defies law and constitution appeared first on SabrangIndia.

With these words, Hamela Khatun, also known as Hamela Begum, recalls the moment her world collapsed. A resident of Bhakeli Kanda in Darrang district, she grew up in a family of small farmers who survived on a patch of land along the Brahmaputra. Like millions in Assam’s char regions, river erosion was a familiar enemy. Their land vanished gradually, leaving the family impoverished and forcing them to migrate to Kerala as labourers.

Yet the destruction of their home was only the first blow. In 2009, the Border Branch of Darrang issued a notice against her under the Foreigners Act, accusing her of being an “illegal Bangladeshi migrant.” Overnight, a woman who had been born, raised, and registered as a voter for nearly two decades was declared a suspect. For Hamela, who had lived her entire life in Assam, the allegation was not merely bureaucratic confusion — it was a wound to her sense of belonging. The notice left the family shaken, terrified, and mentally shattered.

How help arrived — entirely by chance

In early 2025, as the family travelled to Bako in Kamrup district for temporary work, fate intervened. At a relative’s house, they unexpectedly encountered Advocate Abdul Hai, a member of CJP’s Assam legal team. With hesitation, they shared their ordeal — the FT notice, the years of fear, the absence of guidance, their displacement to Kerala, and the looming threat of deportation. Moved by their distress, Hai immediately informed CJP State Secretary Nanda Ghosh, who assured them that CJP would provide full legal assistance, completely free of cost.

This chance meeting, almost accidental, changed the entire course of Hamela’s case. For the first time in years, the family felt a faint sense of hope.

Hamela Khatun stands with CJP’s Assam Team

The Case Before the Foreigners Tribunal: What the state alleged

The reference against her — Ref. Case No. 294/2009, formally registered as F.T. Case 5861/2011 — was forwarded by the Superintendent of Police (Border), Mangaldai. It claimed that Hamela was not an Indian citizen but an illegal migrant who had entered Assam unlawfully. Her entire identity was placed under suspicion, and the Tribunal was asked to determine whether she was an Indian or a foreigner.

Crucially, under Section 9 of the Foreigners Act, 1946, the burden of proof lies on the accused — meaning Hamela had to prove her own citizenship, rather than the state proving she was a foreigner. For a poor, illiterate woman displaced by floods, this burden is extraordinarily harsh. Yet she refused to give up.

How Hamela Proved Her Citizenship: A lifetime of records, preserved against all odds

Despite years of displacement, poverty, and illiteracy, Hamela managed to gather a remarkable collection of documents establishing her lineage, identity, and continuous presence in Assam.

She proved that her grandfather, Jasim Mandal, appeared in the 1951 Legacy Data and in the 1960 Voters’ List. Her paternal uncles appeared in 1966 and 1977 Voters’ Lists, showing that the family has lived in the same region for decades. Her father, Haidar Ali, appeared consistently in voter lists from 1985 all the way up to 2025, establishing uninterrupted citizenship across generations. Similarly, her mother, Rupbhan Nessa, and her siblings were all documented in electoral rolls in Sipajhar LAC across the years 1997–2025.

Hamela also produced all her own electoral records from 2006, 2010, 2021, and 2025, each showing her as a resident of Mangaldai LAC. Alongside this, she submitted a residential certificate, a linkage certificate from the Gaon Panchayat, land documents from the 1950s and 60s, Aadhaar card, PAN card, ration card, bank passbook, and several other personal IDs.

In addition to documentary evidence, her father testified before the Tribunal. His deposition — detailing the family tree, place of origin, the names of his brothers and sisters, and his movements over the years — matched perfectly with every document filed. This consistency became a decisive factor in establishing her citizenship.

Tribunal’s Detailed Findings: A clear, decisive, evidence-based victory

The Tribunal, after examining every record, deposition, and certified document, delivered a clear and categorical finding. It held that Hamela’s forefathers were genuine Indian nationals, and her family lineage from her grandfather to her father was fully supported by electoral records dating back more than six decades. Her own voting history since 2006 further reinforced her claim.

The Tribunal found the evidence “reliable, trustworthy, and sufficient,” noting that there was nothing in the record to cast doubt on her claims. Her grandfather’s name appeared in the 1960 electoral roll, her uncles in 1966 and 1977, her father and mother across multiple voter lists until 2025, and her own name in four different rolls over nineteen years. Every link in her family tree was documented, certified, and verified.

Based on this, the Tribunal concluded:

“Musstt. Hamela Khatun @ Hamela Begum… is not a Foreigner/Illegal Migrant of any stream. The reference is answered in the negative.”

It directed the Superintendent of Police (Border), Mangaldai, and the Deputy Commissioner, Darrang, to take necessary action recognising her as an Indian citizen.

It was a complete victory — built entirely on evidence, consistency, and truth.

When the Order Reached Her Home: Relief after years of fear

On November 24, 2025, a CJP team comprising State In-charge Nanda Ghosh, DVM Joinal Abedin, Advocate Abdul Hai, driver Asikul Hussain, and local community volunteers travelled nearly six hours across rough, broken roads to reach Hamela’s house.

The journey was long, but when they arrived, they saw a sight that made every hour worth it — Hamela standing with a wide, relieved smile, holding the order copy that restored her identity.

She told the team, her voice trembling with gratitude: “You saved us by fighting the case for free. You stood by us in times of trouble.”

In a gesture of humility and affection, she offered them boiled eggs from her chickens and small flower seedlings from her garden — a heartfelt expression of thanks from someone who had endured years of erasure and suffering. She added, “I was worried for so long, but today I’m happy.”

As the team left, the sun was setting over the Brahmaputra, casting a warm glow over the green fields that surround her house — a fitting end to a journey that symbolised justice, dignity, and belonging.

Why Hamela’s story matters for Assam and India

Hamela’s struggle is emblematic of the larger issues in Assam’s citizenship verification system. Her case highlights how:

• River erosion uproots entire communities, leaving them without documents.
• Poor, illiterate women are disproportionately targeted and unable to navigate legal processes.
• The burden of proof under Section 9 places crushing pressure on the accused.
• Entire families with long-established presence in Assam can be declared “suspects” based on bureaucratic doubts.

Yet her case also demonstrates the power of community support, legal aid, and sustained documentation. It shows that even in a system stacked against the poor, justice is possible when facts are presented clearly and fearlessly.

Conclusion

Hamela’s story is ultimately one of resilience. She lost her land to the river. She lost her livelihood to displacement. The state tried to take her citizenship. But she fought back — through truth, documentation, and sheer courage. The Foreigners Tribunal vindicated her, reaffirming that she belongs to this land as firmly and deeply as her ancestors did.

Her journey — from erosion and poverty to legal recognition and dignity — stands as a reminder that citizenship is not merely a bureaucratic label. For India’s poorest and most vulnerable, it is the foundation of belonging, identity, and survival.

The complete order may be read here.

Related:

From Despair to Dignity: How CJP helped Elachan Bibi win back her identity, prove her citizenship

CJP scores big win! Citizenship restored to Mazirun Bewa, a widowed daily wage worker from Assam

CJP Exclusive: Homeland to No Man’s Land! Assam police’s unlawful crackdown on residents still battling for restoration of citizenship rights?

A Long Road to Justice: CJP helps Alijon Bibi reclaim her citizenship after 2-year legal battle

The post Washed Away by Floods, Targeted by the State: Hamela Khatun’s fight for citizenship appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The post Communal Profiling at Malabar Hill, CJP’s files complaint with Maharashtra Police and NCM appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The decision did more than meet Kaushik’s claims for compensation. It issued far-reaching institutional directions: the creation of a committee headed by retired Justice Asha Menon to propose a model Equal Opportunity Policy (EOP) for transgender persons, and then, further ordered that the policy, following the guidelines, would be binding on all establishments, public and private, until the Union Government delivered its own. Through this action, the Court bridged the historic gap between recognition and implementation of equality, making it move from being an aspiration into an enforceable mechanism.

A Case that Became a Constitutional Reckoning

Unfortunately, Jane’s experience is not unique. After revealing her gender identity, she was forced to turn in her resignation after only eight days on the job at a school in Uttar Pradesh; a school in Gujarat later rescinded her job offer on similar grounds. She subsequently filed with the Supreme Court, under Article 32, arguing that these actions were violations of her constitutional rights and of the 2019 Act that prohibits discrimination “in any matter relating to employment.”

The court agreed. The Bench noted that discrimination on the part of private employers that is gender identity-based “strikes at the heart of the constitutional guarantee of dignity and equality” and explained that by not doing something about such exclusions by private entities state was making an “omissive discrimination.” The judges reminded the government, in the end, that the TG Act and its 2020 Rules were not too long ago, “brutally reduced to dead letters” by the government’s bureaucratic apathy.

While acknowledging the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019, and the 2020 Rules, the Court regretted that they “have been brutally rendered dead letters” (para 35, p. 29). It further criticized the “grossly indifferent approach to the transgender community,” noting that this inaction “cannot in any way be fairly regarded as inadvertent or accidental; it is deliberate and is undoubtedly rooted in societal stigma, compounded by a lack of bureaucratic will” (para 35, p. 29). This scathing indictment of bureaucratic failure was coupled with a clear finding that the petitioner’s termination constituted a violation of her dignity, livelihood, and equality.

In asserting both direct and indirect discrimination, the Court put the question of gender identity discrimination into a framework of systemic injustice, and not simply a personal grievance. The damages awarded to Kaushik were symbolic, but profound: declaring through the judiciary that dignity is not contingent on conformity.

The Constitutional Arc: From NALSA to Kaushik

The judgment in Jane Kaushik v. Union of India is not disconnected from a trajectory of equality jurisprudence over the last decade or so. Its reasoning is founded upon three separate but constitutional landmark decisions — National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India [(2014) 5 SCC 438], Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) and Anr. v. Union of India and Ors. [(2017) 10 SCC 1], and Navtej Singh Johar and Ors. v. Union of India (Ministry of Law and Justice) [(2018) 10 SCC 1] — each of which represented a point in India’s constitutional journey from recognition to dignity.

In National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India (NALSA), the Supreme Court expressly recognized transgender individuals as “the third gender,” indicating that Articles 14, 15, 16, 19, and 21 recognize the right to equality and dignity for all individuals, regardless of their gender identity. The judgment stated, “Gender identity is inherent to the concept of personhood…one of the most fundamental elements of dignity, self-determination, and freedom.” The Court also mandated that the state governments recognize self-identification and take proactive measures relating to education and employment. The Kaushik Bench cited NALSA to reaffirm that, “Articles 15 and 16 must be read in a manner that prohibits discrimination based on gender identity” (para 30, p. 26), but importantly extended this reasoning into the employment context, stating that neither public nor private employers may deny employment based on gender identity.

Three years later, in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) v. Union of India, a nine-judge Bench recognized that the right to privacy under Article 21 includes bodily integrity, decisional autonomy, and the right to express one’s identity. Justice D.Y. Chandrachud wrote that “privacy protects individual autonomy and recognizes the right to make vital personal choices.” Kaushik recognizes this principle and extends autonomy to the workplace, contending that the right to live with dignity includes the right to livelihood without stigma.

Finally, in Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India, Section 377 of the IPC was invalidated, decriminalizing relations between persons of the same sex, and holding that equality is grounded in constitutional morality rather than public morality. With NALSA, Puttaswamy, and Navtej all providing a philosophical basis for the holding in Kaushik, they enforce those rights in the workplace. From recognition of identity, to protection of autonomy, to the enforcement of economic dignity, Jane Kaushik marks an evolution in India’s constitutional journey to not only a right to exist but to a right to thrive.

Equality Beyond Formalism: The Court’s Expansive Interpretation

One particularly notable aspect of the Kaushik case is its recognition of substantive equality, an embodied notion of equality that requires not just that all people be treated the same, but that normative structural barriers are eliminated so that certain groups can realize their rights.

Citing Articles 14 through 16 of the Indian Constitution, the Court validated that discrimination based on gender identity is a form of discrimination based on sex. The Court also connected this idea to the right to a dignified life and to live under Article 21 of the Constitution by stating that refusing employment based on gender identity results in “economic and social death” to an individual. The judgment invoked something called constitutional morality and reminded employers, both public and private, that the obligation of equality is not discretionary; it is a part of being a democratic citizen.

This point is significant because, as observed by CJP in its report about transgender rights in 2023, a lot of the discrimination experienced by the transgender community is not a result of outright bad intentions but rather due to inertia and ignorance by the institutional structure. The Court’s reasoning captured that in its justification by holding that to omit, or not act, can itself be a form of discrimination.

By recognizing “omissive discrimination,” the Bench also expanded and layered the idea of state obligations. As the Bench explained, equality means positive obligations. The State must ensure that the rights of transgender persons are not merely enshrined in law, but that they are realized and effective.

Strengthening Employment Protection

The first sphere of impact of the judgment for the transgender community is with respect to employment security.  The Court found expressly that the protections available under the TG Act apply equally to public and private employment, which makes it unlawful for any establishment to deny employment, promotion, or continuance for reasons relating to gender identity.

This means that where previously, major alterations to workplaces across India were difficult to put in place properly (at a general level, but increasingly across specific employment compartments governed by individual laws, such as recognition also in respect of ‘male and female’), this is now a seismic shift in practice and the obligation on employers. Employers must now make reasonable accommodation, whether borrowing the term from disability rights jurisprudence or applying the principle from the Court in respect of substantive equality, on any decision or treatment, covering everything that applies to transgender persons: recruitment forms, uniforms, leave policy, goodwill policy, and grievance procedures, also all included.

Having also ordered a compensation award to Kaushik, the Court now presents a precedent in respect of damages in fear to workplace discrimination, making it clear that discrimination is not only a negative ethic but an illicit treatment too. As earlier argued in CJP’s “The Discordant Symphony”, the work for transgender rights in India is not only about legal recognition, but within the real act, one of accessing responsible means of livelihood. This judgment helps stitch the gap between legal and lived rights responsibly, moving now toward enforceable law work.

Mandating an Equal Opportunity Policy

Arguably, one of the most progressive components of the ruling is the instruction to draft a template Equal Opportunity Policy (EOP) for transgender persons. The Court observed that Rule 12 of the 2020 Rules already imposes an obligation on every establishment to implement an EOP, designate a complaint officer, and create an environment free of discrimination, but noted that few, if any, establishments had done so.

The newly constituted Justice Asha Menon Committee is to produce a uniform EOP to be used by all establishments. Until it is formally adopted by the Union Government, the Court ruled that the guidelines of the committee will have a binding effect.

This shifts the responsibility of inclusion from a moral goal to a legal duty. The Court effectively constitutionalizes workplace inclusivity as an obligation of employers. Employers, schools, corporations, etc., now have an ongoing obligation to have trans-inclusive policies, grievance policies, and sensitization regimes.

As CJP’s earlier analysis in “From Judgments to Handbook: India’s Transformative Journey towards LGBTQIA Equality” pointed out, systemic inclusion cannot be left to goodwill; it has to be planned design. The Supreme Court has now offered precisely that design.

Ripple Effects: Recruitment Norms and Affirmative Action

Jane Kaushik’s implications transcend a single case. For the public sector, the judgment reopens discussion around reservation and affirmative action for transgender persons. Only a handful of states, including Karnataka, which offered a 1 % horizontal reservation, and Odisha, which instructed departments last month to incorporate “transgender” as a category of gender separately on forms, have taken action on inclusive hiring policies.

By calling out inaction by the state, the Supreme Court has signalled that governments cannot sit idly. Departments will have to insist on representation, reasonable relaxations, and non-discriminatory criteria in recruiting and promoting.

The implications for the private sector are equally significant. Employment discrimination based on gender identity now not only carries reputational risk, but legal risk as well. The binding EOP means private institutions will now need to modify their recruiting advertisements, the recruiting application forms, and internal HR policies to ensure inclusion. Selection committees and the Board of Directors will require mandatory sensitivity training, and failure to comply could result in judicial assessment.

In that regard, the judgement extends the ethos of equality into India’s economic systems, making sure that the transformative promise of the Constitution governs behaviour not only by the State, but the marketplace as well.

Constitutional Morality Meets the Workplace

Through Jane Kaushik v. Union of India, the Supreme Court has issued one of its most important equality decisions since Navtej Johar. It extends the Constitution into dimensions of society where discrimination can often continue without intervention. It does this by asserting the need to implement a national Equal Opportunity Policy and assigning significant responsibility to the State to respond to “omissive discrimination”, therefore transforming equality from a right to a collective responsibility of every institution.

For India’s transgender citizens, this decision substantively transforms symbolic recognition into meaningful participation – from simply existing to being able to be employed, from invisibility to the possibility of inclusion. True progress is not identified merely in laws or decisions but in the security of dignity in everyday life.

The next test is whether this landmark ruling is remembered, not as a judicial victory but as when workplaces, all over India, began to embody the values of the Constitution itself.

The judgment in Jane Kaushik v. Union of India can be read here:

The judgment in National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India can be read here:

The judgment in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy (Retd.) v. Union of India can be read here:

The judgment in Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India can be read here:

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Preksha Bothara)

Related

Reflecting on Transgender Rights in 2023: Have Legal Recognition and Advocacy Efforts Broken the Cycle of Discrimination and Ostracism?

The discordant symphony: where does the transgender community go from here?

From Judgments to Handbook: India’s Transformative Journey towards LGBTQIA+ Equality

Can pride be apolitical? Perspectives from queer and trans* community

Mapping Gender-Based Violence in India: Trends, determinants, and institutional frameworks

MAT highlights state’s duty under Transgender Act 2019 for Trans inclusion

The post Beyond mere Recognition: The Jane Kaushik judgment and the next frontier of transgender equality appeared first on SabrangIndia.

While the Model Code of Conduct (MCC) is in force for the ongoing Bihar Assembly elections, Choubey, a senior BJP leader and sitting MP, delivered a speech that directly targeted the state’s Muslim population. In his address, he appealed to “Muslim brothers” to “reduce their population” and claimed that “ghuspaithiye (infiltrators) are coming from across the border.” The remarks, CJP noted, deliberately conflated Indian Muslims with illegal immigrants and invoked communal stereotypes to create fear and prejudice among voters.

CJP has urged immediate intervention by both the Election Commission and state authorities to safeguard the neutrality and integrity of the electoral process.

A dangerous conflation of faith and foreignness

According to the complaint, Choubey’s remarks go beyond electoral rhetoric. They represent a calculated act of hate speech, portraying Indian Muslims as demographic threats and foreign infiltrators — a narrative that has become disturbingly frequent in election campaigns.

By stating, “Our population is also declining. I appeal to my Muslim brothers as well: reduce your population. Ghuspaithiye are coming from across the border… our government is working to remove them,” the MP collapsed the boundary between citizen and non-citizen, implying that the Muslim presence itself was suspect.

CJP’s complaint underscores that such rhetoric de-nationalises Indian Muslims, recasting them as outsiders within their own country — a move that weaponises religious identity to secure electoral advantage.

Clear violations of electoral and criminal law

CJP’s complaint meticulously details how the speech violates several provisions of law:

• Under the Representation of the People Act, 1951:
  • Section 123(3) and (3A) — forbidding appeals on religious grounds and promotion of enmity between communities.
  • Section 125 — making it a punishable offence to promote hatred in connection with elections.
  • Section 123(2) — covering undue influence on the electorate through intimidation or communal fear.
• Under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023:
  • Section 196 — promoting enmity between groups.
  • Section 297 — statements conducing to public mischief.
  • Section 356 — outraging group dignity.

The organisation also cited violations of the Model Code of Conduct, which explicitly prohibits appeals to religion or acts that aggravate communal tension, and constitutional breaches of Articles 14, 15, 19, 21, and 25 — which guarantee equality, dignity, and freedom of conscience to all citizens.

A pattern of Islamophobic rhetoric

Pirpainti, a constituency in Bhagalpur district, has a mixed population and a history of communal sensitivity. In this context, CJP warned that such inflammatory remarks carry “dangerous polarising potential” — alienating Muslim citizens, normalising prejudice, and reducing the election to a contest over identity rather than policy.

The complaint places Choubey’s remarks within a wider and troubling pattern of electoral Islamophobia, where demographic myths and border anxieties are repeatedly used to stigmatise India’s Muslim citizens. It warns that this form of hate-driven politics seeks to redefine citizenship itself — who belongs and who does not — through the language of religion and fear.

Calling Choubey’s statements “hate propaganda delivered under the cover of governance and nationalism,” the complaint asserts that such conduct corrodes the very spirit of democracy. It notes that communal appeals not only distort voter choice but also legitimise bigotry as a form of governance, thereby eroding India’s secular foundation.

CJP invoked key Supreme Court precedents, including Abhiram Singh v. C.D. Commachen (2017), which forbids religious appeals in elections, and Pravasi Bhalai Sangathan v. Union of India (2014), which recognised hate speech as an assault on equality and fraternity.

CJP’s prayer and demands

Through the complaint, CJP has urged the Election Commission of India and Bihar’s election authorities to:

1. Take immediate cognisance of the complaint.
2. Register an FIR against Ashwini Kumar Choubey under relevant provisions of the Representation of the People Act and Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita.
3. Debar him from further campaigning pending inquiry.
4. Issue a public censure and advisory to all political parties to desist from communal appeals.

The complaint concludes by calling upon the Election Commission to ensure compliance with the constitutional mandate of free, fair, and secular elections under Article 324.

The complaint may be read here.

Related:

From Despair to Dignity: How CJP helped Elachan Bibi win back her identity, prove her citizenship

Two Hate-Filled Speeches, One Election: CJP complaints against Himanta Biswa Sarma and Tausif Alam for spreading hate and fear in Bihar elections

From ‘Tauba Tauba’ to ‘Expel the Ghuspaithiya’: The language of exclusion in Bihar’s election season

CJP urges YouTube to remove content targeting CJI Gavai from Ajeet Bharti’s channel

The post Hate Has No Place in Elections: CJP moves State EC against BJP MP Ashwini Choubey’s communal speech appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Tharu Community and Dudhwa National Park

In the Palia Tehsil area of Lakhimpur Kheri district resides the Tharu community, known for its rich cultural heritage and deep-rooted connection to nature. Recognised as a Scheduled Tribe in 1967, most Tharu families depend heavily on forest resources for their livelihood, including bamboo, sugarcane, timber, and other forest produce.

The Tharu community inhabits around 40 villages situated in and around the Dudhwa National Park, which was established in 1977. The subsequent declaration of Dudhwa as a Tiger Reserve further intensified restrictions on land use and access to forest resources for local residents.

Section 2 of the Forest (Conservation) Act, 1980 (Restriction on the de-reservation of forests or use of forest land for non-forest purposes) provides that:

“Notwithstanding anything contained in any other law for the time being in force in a State, no State Government or other authority shall make, except with the prior approval of the Central Government, any order directing—
(i) that any reserved forest (within the meaning of the expression ‘reserved forest’ in any law for the time being in force in that State) or any portion thereof, shall cease to be reserved;
(ii) that any forest land or any portion thereof may be used for any non-forest purpose.”

While this law was intended to prevent the diversion of forest land, its rigid implementation in Dudhwa effectively displaced the Tharu population from their traditional habitats. Following the creation of the National Park and Tiger Reserve, many Tharu villages found themselves enclosed within or adjacent to protected forest zones, leading to the loss of access to ancestral lands and essential resources.

Forest Rights Act, 2006 and Criminalisation of the Tharu Tribe

The Forest Rights Act, 2006 (FRA) (attached below) recognises and vests the rights of forest-dwelling communities by providing a legal framework through which they can claim ownership over land, forest resources, and livelihoods. It was enacted to undo the historical injustice faced by Adivasi and traditional forest-dependent communities who were excluded from forest governance for decades.

Section 4(2) of the FRA provides that:

“The forest rights recognised under this Act in critical wildlife habitats of National Parks and Sanctuaries may subsequently be modified or resettled, provided that no forest rights holders shall be resettled or have their rights in any manner affected for the purposes of creating inviolate areas for wildlife conservation.”

However, in practice, these provisions were ignored. The Tharu community was arbitrarily denied their forest rights, including the right to collect firewood, graze cattle, and access forest produce, despite fulfilling all statutory criteria. In 2012, when members of the Tharu tribe petitioned the court demanding recognition of their rights, the Forest Department responded by filing thousands of fabricated “forest crime” cases against them.

As reported by The Times of India, BJP MLA Romi Sahani from Palia constituency stated that “they filed cases not only against those who went into the forest, but also people who never left home, the physically incapable, and even the dead.”

Over the years, the Tharu community has continued to face bureaucratic harassment and administrative pressure, resulting in the systematic erosion of the rights guaranteed to them under the FRA. Seventy-year-old Badhana Devi recounts, “If we raise our voices or refuse to pay when officers come, we are threatened with new cases.”

In 2020, the District Level Committee (DLC) further rejected the Tharu community’s forest rights claims, disregarding the explicit provisions of the FRA, which confer rights irrespective of the revenue status of a village. (See CJP’s previous coverage: “Vested Rights under Threat: Tharu Tribe Petitions High Court against Administrative Harassment”)

These instances illustrate a clear misuse of statutory powers and administrative authority, effectively stripping the Tharu community of their constitutionally protected rights under the pretext of performing “official duties.” What was meant to be a restorative statute has instead become a tool of persecution, deepening the community’s marginalisation.

Misuse of Conservation Laws across India

Over the years, similar patterns of criminalisation of Adivasi and tribal groups have been witnessed across India. In Uttarakhand, for instance, the Van Gujjars were evicted from their homes as part of a drive to ‘clear encroachments on forest property’. They invoked their right to inhabit forest land under Section 3 of the FRA, 2006 (read below). Further, Section 4 of the Act clearly states that, in cases where these members are residing in critical wildlife areas and National Parks, it is important first to rehabilitate them, to provide them a secure livelihood.

The Uttarakhand High Court, through an interim order, upheld the Van Gujjars’ right to migrate to their summer homesteads and held that any attempt to evict them would violate Article 21 of the Constitution as well as their rights under the FRA, 2006.

In the Hoshangabad district of Madhya Pradesh, the Adivasi tribes such as the Korkus and Rajbhars have faced similar ordeals. At Itarsi, the Central Proof Range was established as a testing ground for armaments and ammunition, leading the government to acquire vast stretches of forest land and displace Adivasi and Dalit families. The concept of ‘protected forests’ was further expanded under Section 4(2) of the Forest (Conservation) Amendment Act, 2023 (attached below), to include land used for strategic or defence projects and paramilitary camps. These exemptions and definitional ambiguities are now frequently misused by the government to bypass conservation obligations and to criminalise local communities.

Perhaps the most alarming example lies in the implementation of the Wildlife Protection Act, 1972. Under the pretext of ‘conservation’, the Act has criminalised essential livelihood practices of forest dwellers, such as collecting mahua, grazing cattle, and fishing. Entry into these lands itself became a punishable offence. A report by the Criminal Justice and Public Accountability Project (CPA) reveals that most offences registered against Adivasi communities were categorised as ‘threats to ecological security and animal habitats’, often without any specific allegations.

Further, forest dwellers and Adivasis continue to face evictions through industrialisation and mining projects. The mineral-rich states of Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, and Jharkhand are particularly affected. To facilitate mineral extraction, the standard state response has been to first declare forest land as ‘protected’ under the Forest (Conservation) Amendment Act, 2023, and then evict its inhabitants in the name of ‘conservation’. This systematic process not only undermines the FRA’s purpose but also perpetuates the cycle of dispossession and displacement of forest communities.

Legal Framework: Setting a Precedent for the Tharu Position

The judicial trajectory surrounding forest rights has consistently reinforced the constitutional legitimacy and welfare-oriented purpose of the Forest Rights Act (FRA), 2006. As seen in the preceding instances, from the Tharu community in Uttar Pradesh to the Van Gujars of Uttarakhand and the Adivasi groups in Madhya Pradesh, the administrative machinery has often undermined the FRA’s intent through procedural denials and criminalisation. However, Indian courts have, on several occasions, upheld the protective spirit of the FRA and reaffirmed the rights of forest-dwelling communities.

In Wildlife First v. Union of India, 2019 (read below),  the Supreme Court upheld the constitutional validity of the FRA, recognising it as a vital mechanism for securing the livelihoods and cultural identity of Scheduled Tribes and other traditional forest dwellers. The Court underscored that the Act does not weaken forest conservation but instead democratises it by empowering local communities as custodians of the environment.

Similarly, in Orissa Mining Corporation Ltd. v. Ministry of Environment and Forests & Ors., 2013, concerning the proposed bauxite mining project in the Niyamgiri Hills, the Supreme Court upheld the Ministry’s decision to deny forest clearance. The Court found that the project violated both the FRA and the customary rights of the Dongria Kondh tribe, whose spiritual and cultural ties to the Niyamgiri Hills were constitutionally protected.
In paragraph 43 of the judgment (attached below), the Court characterised the FRA as a “social welfare or remedial statute” designed to recognise and vest forest rights. The legislative intent, it observed, is unambiguously to safeguard the customs, usages, and traditional practices of forest dwellers. The judgment further emphasised that under the Panchayats (Extension to the Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996 (PESA) (read below), particularly Section 4(d), the Gram Sabha is entrusted with the duty to preserve and protect tribal traditions, cultural identity, and community resources.

This landmark ruling thus establishes a jurisprudential framework that directly supports the claims of the Tharu petitioners. Their ongoing struggle to secure recognition of their Community Forest Resources (CFRs) in the Terai region echoes the Dongria Kondhs’ defence of their sacred landscapes. The same legal reasoning: recognition of customary rights, participatory decision-making through the Gram Sabha, and the FRA’s remedial purpose, should guide judicial interpretation in the Tharu case as well.

Constitutional Implication: Articles 14, 21, and 300A

The arbitrary usage of the Indian Forest Act and Wildlife (Protection) Act, to arrest and detain Tharu Tribe members, under the guise of ‘protecting wildlife and natural habitat’, violates equality and liberty guaranteed under Article 14 of the Constitution. The forest officials particularly target people belonging to Scheduled Tribes, who often lack legal and financial recourse to raise their voices. The FIRs are filed without looking at the facts of the circumstance (as in the case of Surdas Ram Bhajan), and any sort of resistance is framed as insurgency. Therefore, non-arbitrariness, which is at the heart of Article 14, is violated.

Article 21 guarantees the right to life and personal liberty. The FRA helps secure the right to life for forest-dwelling communities by protecting their ability to earn a livelihood from the forest. The petitioners argue that non-conferment of their forest rights is a violation of Article 21, and a further perpetuation of historical injustice, against which the FRA was meant to protect.

Article 300A of the Constitution protects the right of an individual to not be deprived of their property, secured by the authority of law. The Adivasis and Tharu tribe members are forced into a system of private/state property, as a result of unsettled land rights and lack of clear demarcations. The logic holds that any land that is not owned by individuals automatically becomes state property.

Thus, the 4000 cases against Tharu Community members violate their right to life, equality and property.

Conclusion and Way Forward

The core purpose of the Forest Rights Act (FRA), 2006 was to rectify the “historical injustice” committed against forest-dwelling communities, particularly Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers, whose customary rights to forest lands and resources were denied during the colonial period and, regrettably, even after independence (as reiterated in Orissa Mining Corporation Ltd. v. Ministry of Environment and Forests).

In the case of the Tharu community, the lands they had long inhabited were declared “forest land” or designated as “protected areas” for wildlife conservation, disregarding their traditional conservation practices and deep ecological dependence on forest resources.

The extensive rights guaranteed under the FRA remain largely unrealised due to the excessive control exercised by forest officials, whose discretion often renders these legal protections ineffective in practice. Furthermore, the recent Forest Conservation (Amendment) Act, 2023, has weakened the FRA’s intent by allowing the Union Government to grant forest clearances even before the rights of forest-dwelling communities are settled or their consent obtained. This legal overlap has created a dangerous precedent where conservation is invoked to justify dispossession.

These developments also highlight how state machinery, including the Police and Forest Departments, disproportionately target communities residing in and around forest areas, a significant proportion of whom belong to Scheduled Tribes and Scheduled Castes.

The petition submitted by Santari Ram Rana and Sadai before the Allahabad High Court exposes this subtle yet pervasive bureaucratic violence embedded within law. Unlike overt forms of repression, this harm is inflicted quietly through administrative procedures, documentation, and regulatory control, reflecting a colonial mindset that continues to view forests as needing protection from the very people who have protected them for generations.

While the writ petition remains pending before the High Court, members of the Tharu community must continue asserting their legal and cultural rights, drawing inspiration from the Van Gujjars of Uttarakhand and the Adivasi movements in Hoshangabad. Only through sustained advocacy, awareness, and judicial engagement can the original spirit of the Forest Rights Act be truly realised.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Shyamli Pengoriya)

Related

Vested Rights under Threat: Tharu tribe petitions High Court against administrative harassment

Forest Conservation Amendment Act, 2023: A challenge to Adivasi land rights and environmental protections

U’khand Forest Dept admits faults in eviction notices issued to Van Gujjars

Forest Conservation Rules, 2022- An overview of changes that snatch rights of Gram Sabhas

Sokalo Gond and Nivada Rana lead the campaign for Forest Rights in SC

Tribals Allege Officials Use Forest Rights Act to Harass, Demand Money; Picket DM’s Office

The post When Conservation Becomes Coercion: The silent violence faced by the Tharus of Kheri appeared first on SabrangIndia.

According to the NCRB, suicide remains most prevalent among daily wage earners, housewives, and students. These descriptions are not only about occupational status, but reflections on India’s social hierarchies. The “daily wage earner,” who made up 26.4% of all suicide victims in 2023, is the precarious worker, buried in debt, inflation, and insecure employment. The “housewife,” at nearly 14.7%, is a symbol for unpaid domestic labour under patriarchal control and social isolation. The “student,” accounting for 8.5% of total suicides, demonstrates the systemic public and private failure to provide a humane education and mental health support. For the NCRB, these are merely descriptive occupational categories, yet they carry moral and political significance; they are indicators of whose despair is acknowledged and whose is not.

Numbers without Context

The NCRB identifies “family problems” (32%) and “illness” (18%) as primary contributors to suicide. This seems simple on paper – family dysfunction and health issues. However, these classifications conceal more than they disclose. What the Bureau calls “family problems” may include domestically violent behaviour, dowry harassment, or control related to one’s gender. “Illness” likely includes untreated depression among other illnesses, stigma related to disability, and traumatic, life-changing events. Then, stripped of the structural analysis, we easily convert the collective suffering to private pathology in the data.

There is no clearer example of this than student suicides. In 2023, India reported 13,044 student suicides, or about 36 a day, with Maharashtra (2,578) and Tamil Nadu (1,982) having the highest number, followed by Madhya Pradesh (1,668). These states have the largest educational ecosystems, or competition for schools, outside of state-controlled educational ecosystems. Similar patterns recur beneath the statistics: students migrating from rural to urban centres; that caste-based discrimination continues as students are excluded to elite institutions in various ways, if they are even included; and pressures from family about economics that bar a young person’s choice to attend school prevent their abilities to enjoy school, carry their anxieties into learning spaces when they keep “school pressures” from family. The NCRB does not ask whether “academic pressure” is systemically tilted “equal” – it is not.

In February 2024, the Supreme Court released its comprehensive Guidelines on the Mental Health of Students, citing what it referred to as an “epidemic of psychological distress” on campuses across India. The Court called upon universities and colleges to create counselling cells, train faculty to identify early indicators of distress, and implement systems that can protect students from discrimination that may take place on the basis of caste, gender, or the socio-economic status of their family of origin. These Guidelines were developed as an extension of the Court’s findings in Sukdeb Saha v. State of Andhra Pradesh (2024), in which it explained that the State has a “positive constitutional obligation” under Articles 21 and 21A to ensure mental well-being in educational and workplace environments. A detailed summary done by CHMLP can be read here. In that case, the Court condemned the State’s failure to create a coherent national framework for the prevention of student suicides, in particular to direct the states to view student suicide as a consequence of policy failure rather than a private tragedy.

These pronouncements reaffirm a simple truth that the NCRB’s data failed to reveal: student suicides are not individual personal crises but expressions of collective neglect, of caste hierarchy, and of inadequate mental health infrastructure. Nonetheless, and despite these judicial interventions, implementation remains inconsistent, as most such institutions continue to treat mental health services as optional, rather than as the institutional responsibility they need to understand it as.

The Silence around Farmer Suicides and those of Workers

The way the NCRB handles farmer suicides chillingly captures the politics of omission. In 2023, 12,567 farmers and agricultural labourers died by suicide — a 5% increase from 2022. Maharashtra, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh made up over 60% of these suicides. Yet again, for every year, the report does not discuss structural causes: falling crop prices, shocks due to climate change, debt, and neglect in policy.

Organisations from civil society, such as the All India Kisan Sabha and P. Sainath’s People’s Archive of Rural India, have documented hundreds of farmer suicides that are absent from the NCRB report. Many suicides are coded under “other professions” or not included at all due to technical reasons of land ownership. Tenant farmers, sharecroppers, and women farmers who do the vast majority of agricultural work are missing. The NCRB’s silence about these deaths is a political act that removes the agrarian crisis from public consciousness by rendering structural violence into an absence in administrative categories.

In a similar vein, the cadre of “daily wage earners” has increased dramatically in the last five years, subsuming what was a more distinct representation of labour distress. It now includes construction workers, gig workers, sanitation workers, and small artisans who are all trapped in elements of insecurity. That nearly one in four people who commit suicide in India are daily wage earners, should not be an observation of a statistical trend, but a reproach of an economy that cares more for productivity than for people.

The Unseen Intersections of Caste, Gender, and Mental Health

By refusing to break suicide data down by caste identity, the NCRB obscures an understanding of mental distress in terms of social humiliation and exclusion. For instance, the case of Darshan Solanki, a student at IIT Bombay, who died by suicide in 2023, was widely identified in news reports as a death resulting from caste discrimination, but it would not be categorized under anything official. Likewise, the suicides of Dalit and Adivasi students across medical and technical institutions in India, who endure daily micro-aggressions from their peer groups in the form of “competition,”, also go undocumented in suicides that become of relevance to national statistics.

Gender issues exacerbate susceptibility. The relation between domestic violence, demands for dowry, and emotional abuse remains the most consistent factor for women in suicide. Yet, the label “housewife” that the NCRB has categorized those women under is a clear indication of biased and patriarchal categorization that sits below the level of humanity when suffering is reduced to a bureaucratic category. By neglecting to label intimate partner violence and coercion within marriage as a cause, the Bureau also erases the structural violence that is encountered in everyday life.

Despite the passage of the Mental Healthcare Act of 2017, mental health continues to be an undercurrent in policy and also data collected for the report. Governments allocate less than 1% of total health spending to mental health for community mental health services, which should be alarming. The NCRB noted “mental illness” as a cause for suicide in only 4.1% of suicides recorded in the annual report, and experts recognize this figure is severely understated. What this illustrates is not a rethinking of resilience, but denial. The state can measure death, rather than despair.

Disappearing the Crisis

Data manipulation encompasses not only the omission of unpleasant cases but also the reclassification of data. In 2023, several states, including Maharashtra and Telangana, reported a decline in farmer suicides due to “better welfare delivery,” although independent reports indicated a mostly correspondingly higher number. Similarly, the circumstances leading to a decline in cybercrime in Mumbai were simply reclassified to generate an 11.7% decrease in cybercrime. Suicides are often reclassified into other occupations or left unqualified to further the claims of administrative success.

The sanitization of statistics is part of a larger pattern: the act of withholding documentation to showcase progress. In Jammu & Kashmir, in 2023, the NCRB reported zero counts of communal violence and non-sedition prosecutions, while hundreds of detentions were conducted under the Public Safety Act.  Further, the NCRB stopped collecting data on lynchings and hate crimes from 2017 onwards, stating that the data collected was “unreliable”. By deciding what “counts,” the state ultimately will dictate what “counts” as a national issue.

Toward a Politics of Care

While the NCRB’s Crime in India report quantifies violence enacted by other people, Accidental Deaths and Suicides in India quantifies violence enacted by systems — by poverty, patriarchy, and policy. Still, states treat these deaths not as a social emergency, but as a statistical inevitability. A humane interpretation of the numbers insists that we view suicide not as the failing of an individual, but as the failing of governance.

There are still signs of resilience. Grassroots organizations like Kisan Mitra Helpline, Students’ Collective for Mental Health, and SNEHA have sought to offer mental health counselling, debt mediation, and legal aid to communities at risk. The Supreme Court’s latest directions to improve student mental health are also positive, but without an investment in a mental health infrastructure, these are largely symbolic.

To address India’s suicide epidemic, policy needs to shift from counting deaths to preventing deaths. This requires an acknowledgement of the structural nature of despair, deeply rooted in inequity of wealth, caste humiliation, and gendered violence, and a reimagining of the welfare state as one of care, rather than control. Until then, each number in the NCRB’s ledger will remain an indictment of a country that is still growing but not healing.

The Accidental Deaths and Suicides in India report serves a dual purpose, chronicling suffering and depoliticizing it. Each suicide occurs as an isolated act, separated from the systems that created it. The result is a perception of neutrality; the data is both the proof and the excuse.

The judgment in Sukdeb Saha v. State of Andhra Pradesh can be read here.

(The legal research team of CJP consists of lawyers and interns; this resource has been worked on by Preksha Bothara)

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The post Lives in the Margins: Reading India’s suicide data beyond the numbers appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Delivered within 24 hours of each other on November 4, 2025, these campaign speeches have been described by CJP as “a double assault on India’s constitutional morality and the sanctity of the electoral process.” One, by a sitting Chief Minister, communalises the campaign through religious vilification and genocidal language; the other, by a local candidate, turns political rivalry into a threat of physical mutilation.

The Siwan Rally: Himanta Biswa Sarma’s speech of hate and fear

At an election rally in Raghunathpur, Siwan, Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma compared RJD candidate Osama Shahab to global terrorist Osama bin Laden, telling the audience that they must “eliminate all Osama Bin Ladens” from Bihar. Sarma further warned that a victory for Shahab would be “a defeat for Hindus,” promising to watch the results from the Kamakhya temple in Assam and invoking figures like Babur and Aurangzeb to frame the election as a Hindu versus Muslim battle.

His remarks — equating a Muslim candidate with terrorism, describing Muslims as “infiltrators” who threaten women, and boasting of stopping salaries of “mullahs” — were deemed by the complaint to be “state-sponsored demonisation” and “an incitement to exterminatory politics.” Delivered by a Chief Minister under the Model Code of Conduct, they constitute, according to the complaint, “a direct assault on the secular fabric of the Constitution.”

CJP’s complaint lays out an exhaustive legal analysis: violations of Sections 123(2), 123(3), 123(3A), and 125 of the Representation of the People Act, 1951, and Sections 196, 297, and 356 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023. Through the complaint, it has been claimed that Sarma’s speech breaches the Ministerial Code of Conduct, since he holds constitutional office and bears heightened responsibility to maintain neutrality and restraint.

Describing the speech as “hate institutionalised as political strategy,” the complaint also notes that Sarma’s words collapse the constitutional boundary between religion and citizenship — constructing Muslims as infiltrators and enemies of the nation. CJP has demanded the registration of an FIR, Sarma’s debarment from further campaigning, and a public censure from the Election Commission.

The complaint may be read here.

The Kishanganj Rally: Tausif Alam’s threats of violence

On the same day, in Laucha Naya Haat, Kishanganj, AIMIM’s Tausif Alam took the campaign stage to retaliate against RJD leader Tejashwi Yadav, who had earlier called AIMIM chief Asaduddin Owaisi an “extremist.” In a shocking display of aggression, Alam told the crowd: “Tejashwi Yadav called our leader Owaisi an extremist. Tell him — I will cut his eyes, fingers, and tongue if he dares insult Owaisi Sahab again.”

He went further, mocking Tejashwi as the “son of a fodder thief,” an evident reference to his father, Lalu Prasad Yadav.

The complaint describes these remarks as “acts of open intimidation and violent abuse that degrade democratic discourse.” It cites violations of Sections 115, 326, 349, and 356 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, along with Sections 123(2), 123(4), and 125 of the RPA, 1951, and multiple provisions of the Model Code of Conduct.

The complaint further emphasises that this is not political hyperbole but a “direct threat of grievous bodily harm” designed to intimidate a rival candidate and vitiate the atmosphere of free choice. CJP has called for an FIR against Alam, his temporary debarment from campaigning, and a public censure to reaffirm that threats of violence have no place in electoral politics.

The complaint may be read here.

A Pattern of Electoral Decay: Hate as common ground

Though ideologically opposite, the two speeches share a disturbing symmetry. Both substitute argument with aggression, civic discourse with communal or personal hostility. In Siwan, hate was religiously coded — against Muslims, invoking “infiltrators” and “Osamas.” In Kishanganj, hate was personally targeted — against a rival, invoking mutilation and humiliation.

CJP’s complaints thus expose a broader crisis: the normalisation of hate and violence in electioneering. Both incidents, as highlighted in the complaint, have the potential to trigger communal tension and retaliatory violence in Bihar’s politically sensitive districts. The Election Commission’s inaction, it argues, would erode not just the Model Code of Conduct but the very credibility of free and fair elections.

The complaints legal framing situates these speeches within the broader constitutional architecture of Articles 14, 15, 19, 21, and 25, and the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence in Abhiram Singh v. C.D. Commachen (2017) and Ziyauddin Bukhari v. Brijmohan Mehra (1975), which define religious appeals and hate speech as “corrupt practices” that vitiate elections.

A call for restoring democratic dignity

Together, these complaints articulate an urgent appeal — that India’s electoral arena must not be reduced to a theatre of hate, threat, or intimidation. When political speech turns into a weapon — whether through communal vilification or violent menace — it corrodes the very spirit of democratic civility and constitutional equality. Electoral politics draws its legitimacy from civility, equality, and reasoned dissent — not from the language of fear or vengeance. The complaint reminds the Election Commission and the public alike that elections are not merely contests for power but tests of the Republic’s moral fibre.

Related:

From ‘Tauba Tauba’ to ‘Expel the Ghuspaithiya’: The language of exclusion in Bihar’s election season

BJP leaders’ hate speech draws backlash ahead of Bihar elections

CJP urges YouTube to remove content targeting CJI Gavai from Ajeet Bharti’s channel

The post CJP seeks action against Assam CM Himanta Biswa Sarma and AIMIM’s Tausif Alam for election code violations in Bihar appeared first on SabrangIndia.