A calculated campaign of vilification: CJP

In its complaint, CJP alleges that a “coordinated campaign of caste-based vilification, violent provocation, and criminal intimidation” directed at CJI Gavai—India’s second Dalit Chief Justice. It asserts that the content uploaded by Ajeet Bharti’s channel is not merely hate speech but “digital violence designed to demean a constitutional authority through caste-based insult and explicit threats.”

“This is not just abuse,” the complaint states, “but a direct and calculated assault on the dignity and personal safety of India’s highest judicial functionary, and consequently, a grave threat to the independence of the Indian judiciary itself.”

Factual background: Documented pattern of hate

The complaint highlighted that the creator of these videos, Mr. Ajeet Bharti, is a person with known antecedents of disseminating hateful and divisive statements. His broader social media profile is already under active surveillance and investigation by Indian law enforcement for similar offenses. As per complaint, the criminal nature of the content in question is not a matter of CJP’s interpretation but is confirmed by direct police action. On October 8, 2025, police in the state of Punjab have officially booked Ajeet Bharti in over a dozen First Information Reports (FIRs). The official grounds for these criminal proceedings are his “casteist” and “provocative” remarks made on social media targeting Chief Justice of India B.R. Gavai.

The majority of the accused are from outside Punjab and have been charged under non-bailable sections of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, along with other relevant laws.

The videos hosted on the YouTube platform are not isolated incidents but are part of a wider, documented campaign of hate by an individual whose activities are already subject to serious legal action by multiple state authorities i.e. Punjab and Noida Police. This established profile of spreading hate speech adds profound gravity to the content and heightens the urgency for its immediate removal.

Shoe hurled at CJI B.R. Gavai during live court proceedings

Tensions rose after October 6, 2025, when Advocate Rakesh Kishore hurled a shoe at the CJI during a Supreme Court hearing, shouting “Sanatan ka apman nahi sahega.” The Bar Council of India immediately suspended Kishore, calling his act “prima facie inconsistent with the dignity of the court.”

Despite the outrage, the complaint notes that Ajeet Bharti amplified the aggression. This episode came just a week after Bharti’s earlier broadcast on September 29, where his panel had already invoked open calls for violence against the Chief Justice.

Deleted Post by Ajeet Bharti

Detailed legal examination of the videos by CJP

In its complaint, CJP has very carefully examined the transcript of this podcast, premiered on September 29, 2025, and October 6, 2025 from the Ajeet Bharti’s YouTube channel [@ajeetbharti] and highlighted their relevant timestamps and context, unequivocally establishing grounds for immediate action against the channel.

The first video, “S2E2: CJI Gavai Vs Sleeping Hindus | Sonam Wangchuk A Deep State Project | Kaushlesh, Anupam, Ajeet,” was uploaded on September 29, 2025.

Barely a week later, on October 6, Bharti livestreamed “Shoe Attack on CJI Gavai: Leftist Baying for Ajeet Bharti Blood | Ajeet Bharti LIVE.”

The videos are called “a continuous chain of hate speech, culminating in physical aggression and social intimidation.”

Timeline of incitement:

• September 29, 2025 – Bharti’s podcast calls for explicit violence against the CJI: “One Hindu lawyer should grab Gavai ji’s head and smash it against the wall.”
• October 6, 2025 – A week later, a lawyer physically attacks the CJI in the Supreme Court, proving, the complaint says, “that YouTube’s inaction turned speech into assault.”

The complaint situates this within a historic pattern—where dehumanising propaganda precedes violence against Dalit and Adivasi communities. “This hate speech,” it warns, “is not isolated; it draws from India’s long history of caste oppression, social boycotts, and pogroms fuelled by rhetoric portraying Dalits as subhuman.”

The flashpoint of incitement

At in the first video, one of the speakers says: “If Gavai ji bumps into someone somewhere… one Hindu lawyer should grab Gavai ji’s head and smash it against the wall with such force that it breaks into two pieces.”

The complaint calls this a “direct call to commit assault”—not metaphor but provocation. Moments earlier, another participant had sneered: “What is the punishment in the IPC for spitting on Gavai’s face? Hindus can’t even do that.”

The complaint observes that such remarks “normalise public humiliation of a sitting Chief Justice and encourage copycat behaviour.” Later, at, a panellist declares: “The amount of inherent inferiority I have seen in Gavai… you have reached the topmost post and you still have it.”

In the complaint, this line “weaponises caste psychology to demean Dalit achievement” and qualifies as an offence under section 3(1)(r) and 3(1)(s) of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989.

“He (CJI) drinks Neel in the morning”, derogatory remark against CJI

The October 6 livestream, the complaint argues, crossed every boundary of legality and decency. At, Bharti sneers that “The judge doesn’t understand the dignity of his post and reaches court after drinking ‘neel’ and distributing ‘Ambedkar Neel Vachanamrit’ instead of giving orders.”

Here, “neel” (blue)—the emblem of Dalit and Ambedkarite assertion—is distorted into a slur. Minutes later, Bharti escalates to grotesque caste imagery: “He dried the leather of a dead cow in the scorching sun of the slum, smeared it with sewer blackness, and while picking garbage, joined pieces of ‘L’ and ‘V’ to make Louis Vuitton shoes.”

The complaint describes these lines as “abhorrent, dehumanising, and a deliberate resurrection of the language of untouchability.” The complaint stresses that such statements insult not just Justice Gavai but the entire Dalit community, reducing symbols of dignity into “the vocabulary of filth and servitude.”

By broadcasting and monetising this content, YouTube, it argues, has “hosted, profited from, and algorithmically promoted material amounting to cognisable offences under Sections 3(1)(r) and 3(1)(s) of the SC/ST Act.”

From digital hate to real violence

When, days later, the lawyer hurled a shoe/object at the CJI, Bharti’s livestream turned the assault into spectacle. At in second video on October 6, he remarked “If judges continue to make such anti-Hindu statements, then what happened in court today can happen on the streets tomorrow.”

CJP calls this “not commentary but endorsement”—a public justification of violence.

“The sequence of events provides a stark and undeniable correlation between specific incitement broadcast on YouTube platform and the subsequent act of violence,” the complaint stated, warning that such narratives normalise courtroom desecration and seek to punish judicial independence—particularly when embodied by a Dalit judge.

Police action, platform silence

CJP alleges that despite multiple FIRs and legal summons against Bharti, YouTube has taken no suo-moto actions.

“By continuing to host these videos,” the complaint writes, “YouTube is facilitating the spread of content from an individual under investigation for caste-based offences.”

The complaint alleges YouTube of “double standards”—acting swiftly against hate speech in Western contexts but remaining inert when the target is a Dalit Chief Justice in India. Under the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021, intermediaries must remove unlawful content upon notice—an obligation the Complaint says YouTube has ignored.

Legal and ethical violations

The complaint cites violations under multiple Indian laws—including Sections 109, 117, 152, and 342 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), 2023, and the SC/ST Act, as well as Supreme Court precedents which recognise hate speech as a precursor to violence.

Failure to act, the complaint warns, “undermines India’s constitutional promise of equality and the independence of its judiciary.”

“The continuous dissemination of derogatory and inciting content against the Chief Justice of India,” the complaint asserts, “is not merely an attack on an individual, but a direct and insidious assault on the very foundation of India’s constitutional democracy—the independent judiciary.”

Global standards, local silence

CJI reminds YouTube of its international responsibilities under the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights and the EU Digital Services Act, which demand swift removal of hate and incitement.

“YouTube cannot adhere to one set of standards in Europe and another in India,” the complaint notes. “Corporate self-regulation must not end where profit begins.”

CJP’s four-point prayer to YouTube

CJP’s complaint concludes with a clear four-point prayer to YouTube, asserting that failure to comply would be treated as complicity in the alleged offences, the complaint demands the immediate removal of both inflammatory videos and the permanent suspension of the @AjeetBharti channel to halt the dissemination of further hate; furthermore, CJP calls for an internal investigation into the platform’s moderation failures and a compliance response within 72 hours detailing the steps taken to address the grave legal and ethical violations cited in the complaint.

The complete complaint may be read here:

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The post CJP flags casteist, anti-Dalit videos on YouTube targeting CJI Gavai; seeks urgent takedown appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Rupesh Kumar Singh, a freelance journalist from Jharkhand, has been in jail since July 2022 under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, 1967, or UAPA. His arrest followed years of harassment after he reported on land acquisition, mining displacement, Adivasi rights, and human rights violations in eastern India.

The arrest that changed everything

On the morning of July 17, 2022, police arrived at Rupesh Kumar Singh’s home in Ramgarh. For nearly nine hours, they searched every corner, seizing his laptop, phone, and documents.
“He had only one tool — his pen,” wrote his wife, Ipsa Shatakshi. “But they treated it as a weapon.”

The police later alleged Maoist links, though Rupesh’s name was not in the original FIR. The charges were later expanded under UAPA, making bail nearly impossible.

We could finally talk today

Ipsa described the rare moment when she managed to speak to her husband after weeks of silence:

“Today, October 24, 2025, around 10 a.m., I finally spoke to Rupesh through the STD line at Patna’s Beur Jail. The line had been out of order for weeks. The STD has finally been repaired, and we could talk properly today.”

She wrote that Rupesh had been brought back to Beur Jail on September 23, after nearly two years at Bhagalpur Jail, where he had been sent as punishment on arbitrary and baseless charges.
“The transfer was said to be for six months,” she wrote, “but he was kept there for twenty months.”

He was sent to Bhagalpur as punishment

Her letter details how Rupesh’s health deteriorated sharply during that period. She mentioned that “At Bhagalpur Jail, Rupesh’s health deteriorated badly. His triglycerides and VLDL cholesterol reached dangerous levels, and a spinal nerve got compressed. We filed a petition in court, and under court orders, he received treatment. For a while, his reports improved. The doctors advised regular check-ups and a proper diet.”

But since his transfer back to Patna, she said, even the basic medical care ordered by the court has been denied.

He has been locked in a cell without reason

“Since Rupesh’s return to Beur Jail, he has been kept locked in a cell for no reason,” she wrote.
“Earlier, before being sent to Bhagalpur, he was in the normal ward.”

Eepsa described the neglect bluntly that “He needs a medically suitable diet, but even food according to the jail manual is not being provided. Special diet or care is out of the question. No medical examination has been conducted regarding his earlier condition, even though his health problems had reached a dangerous level.”

During their last video call, she noticed him looking thinner and physically weaker. “But someone who has learned to live with courage will always appear spirited — he tries to stay strong. Yet his health condition cannot be ignored” she mentioned

 This system breaks the body when it cannot break the spirit

Ipsa’s words move from description to defiance that “We all know that when this cruel system cannot break the morale of a popular and pro-people individual, it resorts to mental torture. It tries to weaken him through his health.”

She wrote that the same game is being played with Rupesh. She added that “If he resists these arbitrary rules or demands his rights, they will again accuse him of disturbing jail discipline and transfer him elsewhere — as they have done before.”

Her tone is both calm and cutting.

Ipsa further added that “There is nothing here except an effort to mentally harass him. A pro-people journalist and writer has already been imprisoned for over three years on false charges. Now they are trying to crush him physically and psychologically.”

Even food is being used as punishment: Ipsa

After describing the mental and physical toll, Ipsa wrote that even daily deprivation has become a form of punishment.

She counted that “At Beur Jail, which ranks among the most corrupt in Bihar, the attitude of the authorities shows clear intent to harm. They are deliberately ignoring his medical needs and dietary requirements.”

And then, with quiet anger, she added “This is no longer about law; it is about vengeance.”

Three years of waiting

Multiple bail pleas have been rejected. Even senior lawyers representing the Singh have questioned the handling of his case. “Every date is another delay. Every rejection is another silence. But silence does not mean acceptance.”

We may need to move the High Court

Her latest note ends not in despair but determination. She mentioned “Looking at the behaviour of Beur Jail — notorious for corruption — it seems we must now file a writ petition in the High Court. What is being done to Rupesh’s health is unacceptable. It is an assault on the rights of a man who has written, spoken, and fought for human rights.”

She signed it simply, “— Ipsa Shatakshi (Life partner of journalist Rupesh Kumar Singh), October 24, 2025.”

Beyond one family’s struggle

The story of Rupesh Kumar Singh is more than a case file. It is a mirror to the shrinking space for independent journalism — and to the quiet resilience of those left behind.

Background of the Case

Rupesh Kumar Singh, an independent journalist from Jharkhand, has been in custody since July 2022 under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) for allegedly maintaining links with the Communist Party of India (Maoist) and arranging funds for them. His arrest followed years of ground reporting on Adivasi displacement, industrial pollution, and alleged police excesses — issues that many believe provoked official retaliation against his journalism.

Though Singh was not initially named in the FIR, he was later implicated based on electronic data allegedly recovered from a co-accused’s device. His defence maintains that no incriminating material was found from his residence, and that the digital evidence is unreliable. Singh had earlier faced a 2019 UAPA arrest, where he was released on default bail after police failed to file a chargesheet in time.

Singh’s detention came days after he posted a Twitter thread on environmental degradation in Jharkhand, heightening concerns about surveillance and intimidation of critical journalists. His case echoes that of other individuals — from Umar Khalid and Khalid Saifi to the late Father Stan Swamy — facing prolonged incarceration under UAPA.

Supreme Court’s decision

On January 27, 2025, a bench of Justices M.M. Sundresh and Rajesh Bindal dismissed Singh’s Special Leave Petition challenging the Jharkhand High Court’s refusal of bail, stating it was “not inclined to interfere.” The Court offered no detailed reasoning, effectively prolonging Singh’s incarceration without trial.

We had then pointed out that in the ruling exemplifies judicial deference and inconsistency in UAPA bail jurisprudence — where the presumption of guilt replaces the presumption of innocence, and journalists’ constitutional rights are eclipsed by the state’s sweeping claims of national security.

Related:

SC’s bail denial to journalist Rupesh Singh highlights inconsistent approach to UAPA cases

Delhi High Court dismisses bail pleas of Umar Khalid, Sharjeel Imam, and others in 2020 Riots Conspiracy Case

How the Delhi riots case remains stagnant with close to a dozen student leaders incarcerated

The post “This system breaks the body when it cannot break the spirit” — Ipsa Shatakshi on her jailed husband, journalist Rupesh Kumar Singh appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Ismat versus the World

Taran Khan

December 11, 2015

BJP Government Purging Plurality and Diversity from Textbooks

My grandmother told me years ago that “Ismat apa“, as she always called the illustrious writer,  wrote lying flat on her stomach, in the middle of a room buzzing with people. My grandparents were part of the great current of people who contributed to and were carried along by the Progressive Writers’ Movement in the 1940’s. While my grandfather was directly involved in literary production, my grandmother’s contributions were more tangential, and her observations rather pithy. She told me that she loved visiting Ismat apa’s home near Shivaji Park in Mumbai, a far trek from where she lived in Andheri. The windows of this house were always wide open, she recalled, and its curtains billowed all day in the sea breeze. From these observations I formed my own image of Ismat Chughtai, a woman of formidable achievement who wrote in an accessible voice. In my mind, she is the writer who wrote no matter what, belly down on a chatai (mat) on the floor, thriving on the bustle of the household around her.  The prolific writer was in the news recently, when the Rajasthan government decided to drop her stories from school textbooks. It also removed poems and short stories by the late theatre activist and writer Safdar Hashmi.

In her life, Chughtai was adept at offending people. Her work dealt with taboo themes and took readers into places that had never before been described. She wrote in the ‘ghareloo zabaan’: the turns of phrases and idioms of her busy household, the gossip of inner courtyards and women’s quarters. I read her memoir Kaghazi Hai Pairahan (translated in English as A Life in Letters) as a college student. It was as transformative a text as other feminist tracts I encountered during those years, if not more so for the immediacy of its setting. Chughtai wrote in a style that was fearless, irreverent and often very funny. She began writing in the 1930s, but the story that defined her was Lihaaf (The Quilt), published in January 1942 in Adab-i-Latif, a literary magazine published from Lahore. The story earned her a court summons for obscenity, along with her friend Saadat Hasan Manto. They both chose to stand trial rather than apologize for their work, and eventually the cases were dropped.

Chughtai’s canon includes works like her novel Terhi Lakeer (The Crooked Line) and stories like Masooma, Chauthi ka Joda (The Wedding Dress)  and Ziddi (The Stubborn Girl). The latter was adapted into a film script directed by her husband Shahid Latif. The duo collaborated on a host of other films including Arzoo (1950). Chughtai also wrote the dialogues for the 1978 film Junoon in which she played the role of a grandmother. And Chauthi ka Joda formed part of the story for the Partition classic Garam Hawa (1973), directed by MS Sathyu.

The years of student life are made special by exploration, by tuning into the abundance and diversity of nations, voices and realities. All this would be denied to the young minds who read the purged textbooks.

In every way, Chughtai stood for progressive values for most of her life.  She had to fight for an education, first from the iconic Isabella Thoburn College in Lucknow and then to gain a Teachers Training degree from Aligarh. She went on to write books that challenged parochialism and patrirachy and championed the cause of social justice. She wrote for all of India, and almost 25 years after her death, she stands as a proud symbol of India’s syncretic values and her own compassionate humanity. So to weed her out of textbooks for schoolchildren is a self defeating move.

According to media reports, the reason for the removal of Chughtai and Hashmi’s writings is that “they were were loaded with Urdu words…” and were “highlighting practices of a particular community.” They are sought to be replaced by readings that promote “local cultural practices and beliefs”. This runs counter to the idea of Indian plural culture, that takes pride in its diversity. It also fails to understand the entire culture of reading, and of exploring different worlds through words, ideas and books. As a young woman in Aligarh, where Chughtai set many of her stories, I devoured translations of Chekhov and Maupassant, besides the writings of PG Wodehouse and Agatha Christie. It is limiting to think that reading should be about your own life or what is familiar. The years of student life are made special by exploration, by tuning into the abundance and diversity of nations, voices and realities. All this would be denied to the young minds who read the purged textbooks.

It is both sad and ironic that Chughtai’s works continue to fall foul of government diktats, decades after her trial by the British Crown, in the India of 2015.  Perhaps the only sane response to this is what I imagine Ismat would have done: continue writing, in a room with the windows flung wide open, open to the breeze from all directions.

(The writer is a journalist based in Mumbai )

The post A century and ten later, innovative & rebellious Ismat Chugtai remains more relevant than ever appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Reading P. Sainath’s article, “Where there is a wheel” in the book “Everybody loves a good drought”, which narrated how the women of Pudukkottai were trying to cycle their way to personal independence, I felt a compelling urge to learn about the present condition of that place and its women. That’s why I headed to Pudukkottai, nearly 25 years after the master of rural reporting in India did so.

This is what Sainath had written about the cycling movement in Pudukkottai: “Cycling as a social movement? Sounds far-fetched. Perhaps. But not all that far -– not to tens of thousands of neo-literate rural women in Pudukkottai district of Tamil Nadu. People find ways, sometimes curious ones, of hitting out at their backwardness, of expressing defiance, of hammering at the fetters that hold them.”

He has also discussed how young Muslim women from conservative backgrounds enlisted themselves to learn cycling. In the heart of rural Pudukkottai, young Muslim women from highly conservative backgrounds zip along the roads on their bicycles. Some seem to have abandoned the veil for the wheel. Jameela Bibi told the journalist: “It’s my right. We can go anywhere. Now I don’t have to wait for a bus. I know people made dirty remarks when I started cycling, but I paid no attention.”

It was the then collector, Sheela Rani Chunkath, who had hit upon the idea to reinvent “the wheel” for the women of Pudukkottai. Cycling fever gripped the land through a literacy programme called Arivoli Iyakkam (Light of Knowledge Movement). “Cycling has swept across this district. Women agricultural workers, quarry labourers and village health nurses are among its fans. Joining the rush are balwadi and anganwadi workers, gem-cutters and school teachers. And gram sevikas and mid-day meal workers are not far behind. The vast majority are those who have just become literate. The district’s vigorous literacy drive, led by Arivoli Iyakkam, has been quick to tap this energy.”

Kannammal, Arivoli central coordinator, had told Sainath then: “The main thing was the confidence it gave women. Very importantly, it reduced their dependence on men. Now we often see a woman doing a four-kilometre stretch on her cycle to collect water, sometimes with her children. Even carting provisions from other places can be done on their own. But, believe me, women had to put up with vicious attacks on their character when this began. So many made filthy remarks. But Arivoli gave cycling social sanction. So women took to it.”

Kannammal was among those first off the blocks. Initially, she was not sure whether should would be able to ride a cycle while she is clad in a sari. But the would-be cyclists turned up in strength at Kilakuruchi village and the inhibitions fell by the wayside — as did several male-enforced barriers.

Even ballads were written about the cycle movement, prompting the women to sing aloud while they cycled in the village-

“Cast off these illusions/                                    Set fire to the misery they have brought upon you.

Like birds whose wings have been clipped,/    Society has kept you confined within your homes.

Emerge like a storm gathering its strength.  O, sister, learn to ride the bicycle/                  and then set forth on a journey on the wheels of time.”

This song, written by Pudukkottai poets Jayachandar and Muthu Bhaskaran, was one among the many that were written to inspire the cycling women.

The first girl I met after arriving in Pudukkottai was Karthika, 20, a bearer at the hotel I stayed at. After completing her Plus Two, she had enrolled herself in a degree correspondence course. Asked about bicycles, she appeared to wonder why I was even asking — she has been riding a bicycle everywhere since childhood.

“Now, I have an old cycle. The government gave me a new one but my father sold it. He had some debts to pay off. Now I need to buy a new bicycle. I’m saving a little from my salary,” Karthika said.

A whisper of a smile greeted the question whether she knew about the changes cycles had brought to the women of Pudukkottai. As her mother and the other women in her family had already been cycling ever since she could remember, Karthika said, it never felt like something worthy of special attention.

A middle-aged diner at the next table cut in: “All that is history. The younger generation today doesn’t know much about it. You should go out to the road and see for yourself.”

I did as the diner, Gopalan who runs a business, told me and stepped out. Gopalan was not exaggerating: I could see for myself women who were basking in the freedom of movement. The town was humming — with the bustle of girls galore, college girls and school girls riding bicycles.

The bicycle trail led me to the Annavasal Panchayat Union Office, where section officer Ilavarasi Vasanthan spoke of how bicycles had transformed the lives of women.

“Now the women of Pudukkottai are just like those in any other place. They venture out to do anything. The old way — where men would speak outside while women stayed at home — is gone. In the panchayat office and elsewhere, they come directly to ask questions and get things done. They’ve shown strength both in their families and in society. Most important, they continue to travel by bicycle.”

I recalled what Sainath had written once: “Never before coming to Pudukkottai had I seen this humble vehicle in that light -– the bicycle as a metaphor for freedom.”

Kannammal had told him that for women, cycling “is a Himalayan achievement, like flying an aeroplane”.

Around 30 years ago, the women of Pudukkottai were usually confined to the kitchen whenever guests visited. Arivoli Iyakkam, the literacy campaign, brought about some change: men eagerly attended the literacy classes but women still stayed indoors.

The then collector, Sheela Rani Chunkath, realised that the women needed to step out of their homes in order to take part in the literacy initiative. Among the many strategies she devised, one was teaching women to ride bicycles.

The Arivoli Movement cast cycling as a symbol of freedom, self-respect and mobility. Spearheaded by the collector, several programmes were implemented to encourage women to learn cycling, prompting thousands to take a shot at pedalling. It would be fair to say that the women of Pudukkottai literally cycled their way out of the kitchen.

In order to understand how the dramatic transformation took place, I tried to meet the women who had learned cycling then, as well as those who had worked with the Arivoli Movement at that time.

Pandian, who had volunteered with Arivoli Iyakkam when it launched its literacy drive in 1991, shared his experience. He recalled the days when women hardly stepped out of their homes and how the volunteers tried to reach out and spread awareness through songs and dances.

“We were fighting against caste and religious divisions,” Pandian said. “We encouraged people to sit together and share meals. The Arivoli volunteers made it a point to eat in every household, disregarding caste, to demonstrate equality. Do you see now how many women are riding bicycles?”

Fatima, a secondary school teacher, said she never imagined that learning to ride a bicycle would give her so much freedom. “Now I don’t have to depend on anyone. It has completely changed my life,” she said with conviction.

Sarala, an anganwadi teacher, recalled the early days of learning to ride a bicycle.

“There was such an uproar back then. The men reacted with outright hostility. They hurled many insults at us. But the Arivoli workers stood by us. When many women began to learn, those men had no choice but to sit quietly and watch. Eventually, society accepted us,” she said.

I went around several places in Pudukkottai in search of Kannammal, who had led the cycling movement initially. After much effort, I found her — she now works as an assistant at the LIC branch in Pudukkottai.

Kannammal was astonished that I had come all the way from Kerala to meet the woman who had taught the women of Pudukkottai to ride bicycles.

“Oh, back then, things were completely different,” she said. “Girls weren’t allowed to study beyond the fourth or fifth standard. There were no schools nearby; they were far away. Once the girls reached puberty, it became impossible for them to walk such long distances to school, and they dropped out.

“In 1991, when Arivoli Iyakkam launched a literacy drive across the state, lakhs of people came forward to learn. But very few of them were women. That’s when Sheela Rani Chunkath Madam came up with the idea of a bicycle scheme.

“I was the first woman to learn to ride a bicycle. People used to say that if women started cycling, it would be the end of the world — that rains would stop, that it would be a curse! But Sheela Madam stood firm and faced all such criticism with determination.

“She gave me the strength to stand up to everything with confidence. I taught many other women to ride bicycles and helped them gain confidence too. The government gave us strong support. We made it clear to everyone — to the government, that we wanted to learn; to ourselves, that we could learn; and to society, that we deserved to be accepted.”

Those days, whenever a woman needed to get something done from a government office, she was required to prove she could ride a bicycle. If a woman went to collect a paper or document, officials would ask her to show that she could cycle. This, in turn, made it impossible for men to prevent women from learning — and that’s how the project gained social acceptance, Kannammal said.

“The bicycle scheme spread like a social revolution. Bicycle training centres for women, cycling competitions, rallies, demonstrations, lucky dips, prizes — so many programmes were organized. Thousands of women who initially learned cycling only to win a prize eventually made it a part of their everyday lives. For anganwadi teachers, cycling was made mandatory. Today, just as a child learns to walk, girls learn to ride a bicycle as they grow up. Similarly, the Tamil Nadu government now provides free bicycles to all schoolgirls.”

Listening to Kannammal and seeing the women of Pudukkottai, one thing became clear: the very foundation of a woman’s self-confidence is her freedom of movement.

“When women began coming forward to learn cycling, there was an acute shortage of bicycles,” Kannammal said. “Women learned using the men’s bicycles. That actually turned out to be an advantage — since those cycles had a bar in the middle, men would seat children in front and ride long distances to fetch water. Later, women used the same cycles, seating their children on the back carrier, and it made fetching drinking water so much easier.”

Earlier, they used to walk long distances every day to collect water. Once they learned cycling, that burden was reduced. It also became easier to take goods and farm produce to the market. These may seem like ordinary things now, but back then, for women who had spent their lives inside the kitchen, appearing in public on a vehicle was a symbol of rising social status.

“Their circles of friendship expanded. They recognized their own strength. In truth, beyond just economic improvement, learning to cycle gave women self-respect, freedom and fulfillment,” Kannammal said.

When Sainath visited Pudukkottai in 1991, he had witnessed the early stages of the cycling movement. What I saw when I went there was the outcome — women who had stepped out from their homes are now deeply engaged in public life.

The history of cycling in Pudukkottai clearly shows that whether in a village or in a city, when sincere efforts are launched to empower/uplift women, they respond rapidly — and change truly follows.

Kannammal spoke about Women’s Day in 1992: “That year, the Women’s Day in Pudukkottai was like witnessing a historic event. Around 1,500 women tied the Indian tricolour to their bicycle handlebars and rode together in a grand rally through the town. I had never before seen such an expression of confidence.”

Cycling not only changed women’s quality of life but, as Kannammal said, it enabled them to come out of their homes and live alongside men as equals.

What I saw in Pudukkottai is this: when someone in power understands women’s movements and issues and when even a few committed people work sincerely for them, women’s lives can transform completely.

As I left, a song by Jayachandar came to my mind:

“Yes, brother, I have learned to ride a bicycle.

I now move with the wheels of time.”

In a country where so many women still cannot move freely, the women of a Tamil Nadu village learned to balance on two wheels — and through it, found freedom, confidence and progress. It remains a tale that continues to inspire, its revolutionary resplendence as radiant as ever.

Courtesy: The AIDEM

The post Breaking patriarchal cycles through cycling: Revisiting the Story of Women in Pudukkottai, Tamil Nadu appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This article discusses the recent Supreme Court’s interim order in the petitions challenging the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 and examines the quantum of interim relief granted against relief prayed for and comments on whether such interim relief was indeed adequate to protect the petitioners or not.

I. The Waqf Amendment Act, 2025 in brief

Before further discussion over the interim order passed by the Supreme Court in the petitions challenging the validity of the Waqf Amendment Act, 2025, it is important to understand what the amendment did. An in depth analysis of the provisions and the consequent impact of such provisions can be read here.

First, it attempted to redefine who could create a Waqf by requiring the dedicator (donor of the property) to demonstrate they had been practicing Islam for at least five years, while asserting lawful ownership over the property. Second, the Act prospectively abolished “Waqf by User” (property becoming Waqf merely through consistent religious use as it was the case of many Islamic religious institutions that have been existing since the 1800s or even before). Third, the post-amendment Section 3C introduced a mechanism allowing a designated government officer to unilaterally declare properties identified as Waqf to be “Government property,” thereby removing them from Waqf oversight. Crucially, the law also mandated compulsory registration and applied the Limitation Act, 1963, curtailing traditional protections against adverse possession claims over Waqf land.

The Disquieting Juxtaposition: Waqf vs. Others

The critical issue of discriminatory application looms large, implicating Articles 14 (Equality) and 15 (Non-Discrimination). Petitioners argued that the rigorous state control proposed by the amendments—particularly concerning land management and the mandatory inclusion of non-Muslims in governance—was unfairly imposed upon the Muslim community compared to other religious institutions.

In the landmark Shirur Mutt case (1954), which defined much of the state’s power over religious endowments, the Supreme Court indeed recognized that the right of a religious denomination to administer its property, while regulated by law (Article 26(d)), must fundamentally leave the right of administration to the denomination itself.[1] A law that entirely removes this right and vests it in an outside authority is deemed a violation. Furthermore, the imposition of a compulsory annual contribution under the Madras Act was struck down, not as a fee for services rendered, but as a “tax,” placing it beyond the legislative competence of the state. The rationale was clear: while the state could regulate the secular administration of religious trusts to ensure they are properly managed, it could not levy a tax for the promotion or maintenance of a particular religion.

There exists a stark disparity in the manner charitable institutions of different religions are treated under law, particularly when one examines the proposed Waqf Amendment provisions that impose disproportionately stringent control over the Islamic institution of Waqf. The issue is straightforward. For decades, major Hindu temples have been administered by boards composed entirely of Hindus, and at no point has the government proposed that, since temple administration is a secular activity, persons of other faiths may be appointed to those boards. Consider the endowment legislations in Karnataka[2], Andhra Pradesh[3], and Tamil Nadu[4] — each expressly requires that the commissioners and officers appointed under their respective Acts must profess the Hindu religion. This differential treatment in which Non-Muslim participation is being proposed stands in clear violation of Article 14 of the Constitution, which guarantees equality before the law.

II. Erosion of Legal Safeguards: Property, Custom, and the Collector’s Writ

The most urgent grievances raised before the Supreme Court related to the potential for bureaucratic expropriation of historic Waqf properties, facilitated by three key amendments: the demise of ‘Waqf by User’, the mandatory registration mandate, and the introduction of a new mechanism for determining ‘Government property’.

A. The Sudden Takedown of ‘Waqf by User’ and the Time Bar

For centuries, the concept of Waqf by User acknowledged that consistent religious use of a property could establish it as a Waqf, even without a formal written deed or dedication. The petitioners stressed that many old Waqfs, lacking formalized documents, rely solely on this doctrine for their title and survival. The 2025 Amendment, however, abolished the doctrine prospectively.

The court dealt with the state’s concern saying that this doctrine had been systemically misused to encroach upon vast tracts of government land, citing instances where thousands of acres were claimed as Waqf property merely through user.

However, the sting lay in Section 36 (10) of the Amended Act, which imposed a mandatory registration requirement for all Waqfs within six months of the Act’s commencement. Failure to register within this period effectively barred the Waqf from instituting or commencing any suit or legal proceeding for the enforcement of its rights. While a proviso allows the court to entertain an application if sufficient cause for delay is shown, forcing centuries-old institutions, often poor and disorganized, to scramble for registration within a tight six-month window—after decades of varying legislative requirements and historical neglect by official bodies—constitutes a threat to rights enshrined in Articles 25 and 26 of the Constitution

This provision creates precarious conditions for community rights, essentially rendering unregistered Waqfs remediless. The court’s justification was rather technical: that Mutawallis had decades to register since the 1923 Act. Yet, to adopt this technical justification would be to ignore the ground realities—the lack of formal deeds, illiteracy, and systemic administrative failures by Waqf Boards themselves—and imposing an iron-clad registration bar seems an exercise of power ill-suited to securing justice for historical endowments. The resultant inadequacy is that while the title by use remains theoretically protected for existing properties, the inability to legally defend or enforce rights over that property due to an administrative lapse effectively neuters the title. By now, the six months have passed.

B. The Usurpation of Judicial Authority by the Executive (Sec 3C)

Perhaps the most alarming feature of the amendment was the introduction of Section 3C, establishing a mechanism for determining whether property claimed as Waqf was, in fact, “Government property”. This power was granted to a “designated officer” above the rank of Collector, who, after an inquiry “as per law,” would submit a report to the State Government. If the officer determined the property was government property, they were empowered to order corrections in revenue records and direct the Waqf Board to update its records.

The petitioners vehemently challenged the provisos to Section 3C(2) and the entire mechanism of Sections 3C(3) and 3C(4). The core objection was that entrusting a revenue officer—a functionary of the executive—with the power to determine the title of property, and subsequently mandating changes in revenue records, flagrantly violates the separation of powers, an essential principle enshrined in the Constitution. The determination of property title is a function reserved for judicial or quasi-judicial bodies.

The Supreme Court, while prima facie upholding the initial clauses of Section 3C, intervened by staying the critical executive actions: the provision that the property would cease to be Waqf until the officer’s report (Proviso to Section 3C(2)), and the powers given to the designated officer to order corrections in revenue records (Sections 3C(3) and 3C(4)).[5]

The court correctly asserted that the final determination of title must rest with the specialised Waqf Tribunal, established under Section 83, which is a judicial or quasi-judicial body with appeal rights to the High Court. Furthermore, the court directed that until the Tribunal makes a final adjudication, neither the Waqfs can be dispossessed, nor can the revenue records be altered.[6]

While this stay is crucial—it halts the immediate damage of executive unilateralism—the court’s action necessarily remains an interim restraint on procedure. It does not yet nullify the underlying legislative intent, which remains an aggressive mechanism to “de-recognize” property. The final battle over whether the state can legally employ such an executive process for title investigation, even if followed by judicial remedy, awaits the final hearing.

C. The Re-imposition of Limitation

A historical protection for Waqf property, long deemed dedicated perpetually to God, was enshrined in the un-amended Waqf Act, 1995: Section 107 provided that the Limitation Act, 1963, would not apply to suits for recovery of immovable Waqf property. This immunity protected endowments from being lost through adverse possession, recognizing their unique religious and charitable status, where the owner (Allah) cannot lose title.

The 2025 Amendment, via Section 44, abolished this immunity, mandating that the Limitation Act shall apply to all proceedings related to claims or interests in Waqf property from the date of the Act’s commencement. This change was argued to be a necessary reform to align Waqf law with general property law.

For the rights under Article 25 and 26, this provision is deeply injurious, instantly exposing centuries of undocumented or poorly managed property to adverse possession claims and creating an immense burden on Waqf Boards to initiate lawsuits, many of which may now be time-barred. The petitioners did submit that the combined effect of this amendment and the deletion of the special provision for evacuee property (Section 108) means that potential recovery suits concerning historical properties, including those tied to post-Partition dislocation, could be barred by limitation.

The Supreme Court, in its interim analysis, found no prima facie case for staying this provision, arguing that applying the Limitation Act removes discrimination that existed in the un-amended Act, thereby treating Waqf property equally to other property claims.[7] This judicial stance, however, overlooks the foundational religious and jurisprudential difference: Waqf property is distinct from ordinary private property; it is permanently dedicated to a charitable or pious purpose, and management (by the Mutawalli) is merely custodial, not proprietary. To strip this perpetual immunity without offering a robust, workable transitional mechanism is an existential blow to the community’s ability to defend its patrimony.

III. The State as Arbiter

The amendments also sought to heavily influence the composition and criteria for Waqf creation, bringing the state’s regulatory gaze directly upon matters of religious identity and leadership.

A. Non-Muslim Inclusion and Secular Administration

The amendments to the composition of the Central Waqf Council (Section 9) and State Waqf Boards (Section 14) allowed for the inclusion of non-Muslim members, which petitioners argued was a direct interference in the management of religious affairs (Article 26(b)). The religious character of the Board, they argued, is inseparable from its administrative duties. Conversely, the state maintained that the functions of the Board and Council—dealing with finance, property, encroachment, and audit—are predominantly “secular activities,” which the state is empowered to regulate. The Mutawalli deals with administrative matters, while the Sajjadanashin handles the religious activities.

The court adopted a middle path, reflecting a structural compromise often seen in Indian jurisprudence. It placed limits on the executive’s expansive power, directing that the Central Waqf Council (out of 22 members) shall not consist of more than 4 non-Muslim members, and State Boards (out of 11 members) shall not exceed 3 non-Muslim members. Furthermore, though it declined to stay the provision regarding the appointment of the Chief Executive Officer (CEO), it directed that an effort should be made, “as far as possible,” to appoint a CEO from the Muslim community.[8]

This, while acknowledging the need to preserve majority Muslim representation, essentially validates the state’s claim that Waqf governance is a secular activity amenable to external, cross-community administrative supervision. This position maintains that the “scale of expenses” and “administration of property” are secular affairs that can be regulated by authorities. However, this judicial accommodation reinforces the state’s role as the final arbiter of what constitutes ‘religious’ versus ‘secular’ functions—a role that academics and petitioners alike have long found problematic, not only generally but also from the case perspective.

B. The Five-Year Practice of Islam Requirement

Section 3(r) of the Amended Act stipulated that a Waqf could only be created by a person “showing or demonstrating that he is practising Islam for at least five years” and who is the lawful owner of the property. This provision was challenged as arbitrary and violating Articles 14, 15, and 25.

The state defended the rule, recalling historical legislative concerns dating back to 1923, that Waqf endowments were often used as a “clever device” to defraud creditors or evade law. The new requirement, the state argued, aimed to ensure that only genuine practitioners, and not fraudulent converts seeking a legal shield for property, could dedicate a Waqf.

The Supreme Court recognised the legislative intent but stayed the operation of this condition, not on the grounds of constitutional invalidity, but due to procedural vagueness. The court noted that in the absence of a clearly defined statutory mechanism for determining whether a person has “practised Islam for at least five years,” the provision would necessarily lead to an arbitrary exercise of power. Thus, the condition remains stayed until Government frame rules to create a viable mechanism.[9] This offers temporary procedural relief but fails to address the more substantive critique: why the state feels compelled to legislate criteria for demonstrating genuine religious practice, a function traditionally far outside the boundaries of a secular state.

Moreover, the Supreme Court in its order, while dealing with the critique that defaulters are dedicating their property to the Almighty to defraud creditors, stated that a possibility of people changing their religion to Islam to defraud the creditors cannot be ruled out. This written observation is rather peculiar since it is used to close the doors on what could have been an analysis on whether an exceptional case of a provision allowing some misuse mandates that such provision be void or not. However, the Supreme Court neither goes into that direction nor does it leave a chance open for it to be discussed at a later stage. It simply puts the reason of absence of rules over how to show if someone has been practicing Islam or not as a justification for the stay over this provision.

IV. The Shadow of Exclusion: Tribal Lands

In two areas—properties dedicated by non-Muslims and properties in tribal areas—the Court refused to grant any interim stay, upholding the state’s legislative decisions that carved out exclusions, even though these raised questions of religious liberty and non-discrimination.

Prohibition on Land in Scheduled or Tribal Areas (Section 3E)

Section 3E explicitly states that no land belonging to Scheduled Tribes under the Fifth or Sixth Schedules shall be declared or deemed to be Waqf property, regardless of any other law. This restricts the religious freedom (Articles 25 and 26) of Scheduled Tribe members who practice Islam and wish to dedicate property.

The state and the court’s prima facie view supported the amendment, rationalizing it as a measure to protect the existence of “cultural minorities” whose religious practices are distinct from Islamic religion. The legislative intent was to avoid conflicting provisions and protect the constitutional autonomy granted to tribal lands.

The inadequacy of the interim order here stems from the blanket nature of the prohibition. While protecting tribal culture is a constitutional priority, preventing an individual Muslim member of a Scheduled Tribe from exercising their right to dedicate their own property as Waqf appears to be an overly broad measure. By failing to stay this provision, the court permits a form of religious restriction justified by cultural protection, without fully weighing the individual rights of practicing Muslims within those tribal groups.

V. The Opportunity Cost: Alternatives to Sweeping Invalidation

The state’s underlying intentions, prima facie, for the 2025 amendments was the misuse, waste, and systematic misappropriation of Waqf properties by some incompetent or unscrupulous mutawallis, sometimes even in collusion with government agencies.

However, the question remains whether the state, faced with misuse, chose the most appropriate and constitutionally sensitive remedy.

As early as 1923, the legislature acknowledged the “menace of mismanagement” and responded by proposing compulsory registration, penalties, audits, and official superintendence.

The pre-amendment Waqf Act specifies duties and disqualifications of mutawallis (such as failure to maintain accounts, misuse of funds, or being convicted of encroachment). Removal provisions were extensive. Furthermore, penalizing unauthorized alienation of property was addressed by Section 52A, which prescribed imprisonment and recovery of the property.

The argument that a more appropriate, less constitutionally aggressive path existed rings true: instead of fundamentally challenging the integrity of historical titles through the abolition of Waqf by User and the imposition of executive title determination (Section 3C), the state could have rigorously enforced the existing accountability, anti-encroachment, and penalty provisions against corrupt mutawallis.

By enacting sweeping structural amendments—like applying the Limitation Act to title disputes and delegating title scrutiny to the Executive—the state opted for a sledgehammer approach to solve a problem of governance and corruption, thereby endangering the legitimate, centuries-old endowments that sustain the community. The Supreme Court’s interim relief, while protecting the procedural sanctity of title adjudication (by striking down the executionary steps of Sec 3C), ultimately permits these structural, title-threatening changes (like the prospective abolition of Waqf by User and the application of the Limitation Act) to stand pending final adjudication. This approach risks resulting in a protective regime whose effect is inadequate when weighed against the magnitude of the rights, religious history, and communal identity hanging in the balance.

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

[1] The Commissioner, Hindu Religious Endowments, Madras v Shri Lakshmindar Tirtha Swamiyar of Shri Shirur Mutt 1954 SCR 1005

[2] Section 7, The Hindu Religious Institutions and Charitable Endowments Act, 1997

[3] Section 3, Andhra Pradesh Charitable and Hindu Religious Institutions And Endowments Act, 1987

[4] Section 10, The Tamil Nadu Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Act, 1959

[5] Para 209, IN RE: The Waqf Amendment Act, 2025 (1) 2025 INSC 1116 (Waqf Interim Order)

[6] Para 209, Waqf Interim Order.

[7] Para 201, Waqf Interim Order

[8] Para 189, Waqf Interim Order.

[9] Para 140, Waqf Interim Order

Related:

Waqf Act Amendments Partly Stayed: SC blocks government control, backs registration and reforms

Amid Waqf Debate, Should Hindu Endowment Boards be Held Responsible for the Sorry Plight of Dalits?

Waqf Amendment Act 2025: SC grants some time to Centre on condition no non-Muslims appointed to Board, Council & no change in any Waqf status

SC to UoI on Waqf Amendment: ‘Are you willing to allow Muslims on Hindu endowment boards?’

The post Understanding the Supreme Court’s Interim Intervention in the Waqf Amendments, 2025 appeared first on SabrangIndia.

As reported by The Telegraph, it was Giriraj Singh, the BJP’s MP from Begusarai, who told a poll rally in Arwal district on Saturday that “citizens who accept government welfare have a moral obligation to vote for the ruling party.” Twisting perversely the very fundamentals of republican democratic governance, he clearly appeared to use the term for Muslims who are beneficiaries of the schemes declared by the current regime at the Centre but do not support the BJP.

In a video of the speech, Singh recounted a reported conversation with a cleric. “So I told him that one who doesn’t acknowledge help is called a namak haram,” the minister is heard saying.

“I told him, ‘Maulvi Saheb, I don’t want the votes of the namak haram’,” he said.

Despite facing criticism on Sunday (October 19), Singh stood by his remarks, telling reporters he meant only to highlight that government welfare schemes were non-discriminatory.

The comments drew strong and immediate criticism.

Shiv Sena (UBT) leader Sanjay Raut demanded the minister’s removal, asking, “If someone doesn’t vote for you, does that make them namak haram?” The Bihar Congress called Singh “mentally unstable.”

The BJP’s main ally in Bihar, the Janata Dal (United), was more cautious in its response. Spokesperson Rajeev Ranjan said voters “make decisions beyond such comments,” while another party leader defended Singh.

The minister’s provocative statement was the most high-profile of several communally charged incidents involving BJP leaders over the weekend. In Pune, on Sunday, Rajya Sabha MP Medha Kulkarni led a protest organised by the Patit Pavan Sanghatna and other Hindu outfits at the historic Shaniwarwada fort, reported The Indian Express.

After a video showed Muslim women offering prayers at the site, Kulkarni and activists “purified” the spot with cow urine and performed a Hindu ritual. “We will not allow ‘namaz’ in Shaniwarwada, Hindu community has now become awakened,” she tweeted before the protest. She later defended the action, stating, “It is a symbol of Hindavi Swaraj… We cannot allow anyone to offer namaz here. It is not a mosque.”

The move was slammed by political opponents as an attempt to polarise voters ahead of local civic polls. Sachin Sawant of the Maharashtra Congress noted the fort’s diverse history, adding, “The BJP MP is also protesting against the ‘dargah’ outside Shaniwarwada. When the Peshwas had no problem, what is her problem?”

Separately, a video showed BJP leader Pragya Thakur urging parents to use violence to control their daughters, reported The Financial Express. She warned that girls welcomed as “Lakshmi or Saraswati” grow up to become “mianin” (a derogatory term for a Muslim man’s wife).

“Strengthen your mind, and make it so strong that if our daughter does not obey us, if she goes to a non-believer’s house, leave no stone unturned in considering breaking her legs,” Thakur said.

She added that parents should not “step back” from beating their children for their own good! These incidents come as Bihar prepares for elections, with the first phase of polling on November 6, the second on November 11, and counting on November 14.

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The post Bihar Elections Build-up: ‘Won’t allow namaz’, ‘namak haram’, BJP MPs’ communal hate-filled remarks draw fire appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A Division Bench comprising Justice Salil Kumar Rai and Justice Divesh Chandra Samant declared the couple’s detention by police as ‘illegal’ and a violation of their fundamental rights under Article 21 of the Constitution. The Court ordered their immediate release and safe escort to Aligarh, and further directed that they be allowed to proceed to Bareilly under continued police protection.

Court steps in after couple disappears post-hearing

The couple had appeared before the Allahabad High Court on October 15, 2025, in connection with three pending writ petitions—one of them seeking police protection, previously granted by the Court on September 3. During the hearing, Rashmi made a voluntary statement affirming that she was a major, had married Shane Alam, and wished to live with him out of her own free will.

However, soon after the hearing, the couple reportedly went missing. A habeas corpus petition [Tehseem and Another vs. State of U.P. and 5 Others] was immediately filed by Shane’s brother, Tehseem, claiming that the couple had been abducted with the involvement of Rashmi’s father and some unknown individuals, with police assistance.

On October 17, the Bench, terming the case urgent, ordered police and respondents—including Rashmi’s father and top officials of Aligarh and Prayagraj—to produce the couple in court by 12 PM on October 18. The urgency of the matter led the Court to conduct proceedings on a Saturday, a non-working day.

The order of Allahabad HC dated October 18, 2025 may be read here:

‘No justification for illegal detention’: HC

According to Live Law, on October 18, a Sub-Inspector from Aligarh police produced Shane Alam and Rashmi before the Court. The Government Advocate informed the Bench that the girl had been produced before the Judicial Magistrate in Aligarh on October 17, who confirmed her age and recorded her voluntary statement. She had clearly expressed her wish to go with Shane, and was ordered to be released.

The Court recorded her statements made both before the Magistrate and again during an in-camera interaction. Rashmi stated that she was 21 years old, had married Shane, and wished to live with him. She categorically denied any coercion, as reported

Despite her clear consent and legal age, the couple alleged that they had been abducted by Rashmi’s father and others with police support after leaving the court on October 15. Shane was kept at a police station, and Rashmi was sent to a ‘One Stop Centre’ until they were produced before the Magistrate two days later, as the Live Law reported

Reviewing the case diary and the girl’s statement under Section 183 of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), the Bench noted that she had voluntarily left with Shane. Yet, the Investigating Officer had continued to probe issues related to the inter-faith nature of their relationship and the alleged failure to inform the District Magistrate about the marriage—investigations which the Court held were unwarranted.

As per Live Law, rejecting the state’s argument that ‘social tension’ justified the couple’s detention, the Court observed:

“The plea that the girl had to be kept at ‘One Stop Centre’ and the petitioner no. 2 was detained at the police station because of the social tension in the area due to the different religions of the parties is not acceptable and cannot justify the detention… A person can be detained by the police or other state authorities only under law.”

The Court further added:

“A detention under social pressure but without authority of law does not make the detention legal but only increases the illegality… In a democratic country governed by Rule of Law, the State Government and its law-enforcement machinery are expected to protect the liberty of a citizen and not to succumb to social pressures” as reported

Police officers may face action

The Bench ruled that the detention of both individuals from October 15 to 18 was illegal. It directed the Investigating Officer to escort the couple safely to their desired location and ordered the Commissioner of Police, Prayagraj, along with SSPs of Aligarh and Bareilly, to ensure continued protection and prevent any interference in their companionship.

The Court also directed the SSP, Aligarh, to conduct an inquiry into the entire episode and submit a detailed report by November 28, 2025. His personal presence has also been ordered on the next date of hearing.

Background of the case

According to the petition, Rashmi and Shane had been in a consensual relationship and began living together on July 30, 2025. Her father filed an abduction FIR two months later, which the petitioner claimed was motivated by mala fide intent.

Despite the High Court’s earlier order granting police protection, local police allegedly failed to act and even harassed Shane’s family. The October 15 hearing was meant to resolve ongoing petitions related to the FIR and protection orders.

However, after their testimony affirming their relationship, the couple vanished from the court premises around 5 PM. It was alleged that Rashmi’s father, accompanied by unknown persons, was seen in the court complex and had intimidated the couple. Despite immediate court directions, no FIR was registered regarding their disappearance, prompting the habeas corpus plea.

Court keeps matter open

While the couple has been set free and declared safe, the High Court has kept the matter open in view of the serious questions raised—about police inaction, misuse of law, and suppression of individual liberty in inter-faith relationships.

Related:

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The post Allahabad High Court directs UP Police to ensure safe return of inter-faith to their desired destination appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The post What Indian Cities Owe to Islam appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The cases — Sanidul Sheikh v. Union of India and Reijya Khatun v. Union of India — were filed after both men, who had been released under Supreme Court-mandated COVID bail in 2021, were suddenly picked up again in May 2025 despite consistent compliance with all bail conditions. They have since been lodged in the Kokrajhar Holding Centre. CJP has been providing legal aid in both these cases.

State’s New Claim: “They were once sent back”

At the hearing, the FT counsel, appearing for the State, told the Bench that “the government is ready to deport them,” but added that “a stay order by this Court” prevented immediate action. The counsel went on to state that “the factual position is that they were once sent back. They came back. Now they are kept in the Kokrajhar Holding Centre.”

This was the first time such a claim had ever been made in the proceedings — no previous affidavit, submission, or oral statement had suggested that the two men had been “sent back” to Bangladesh before.

Appearing for the petitioners, Advocate Mrinmoy Dutta immediately objected: “This is being said for the first time, My Lords. It was never mentioned before.”

Petitioners demand proof of verification

Dutta pressed that before any talk of deportation, the government must first demonstrate factual and documentary verification of nationality, and clarify through which process and destination country deportation is being contemplated:

“Let them show the Court that they have completed the verification. If they have been able to verify, that is different. But they need to show where they will deport and how they will deport. Otherwise, my submission is that the detention is illegal.”

The argument underscored a crucial point — verification of nationality is a precondition to deportation, not a justification for continued detention. Yet, despite repeated demands for such evidence since June, the State has produced no records of nationality confirmation or communication from Bangladesh.

Bench Avoids Two Key Questions: Deportation claim and verification process

Despite the gravity of the new claim, the Bench did not press the State for supporting documentation or clarification on when and how the alleged earlier deportation occurred, or through which process. Nor did it examine the petitioner’s long-standing demand for production of verification records confirming nationality — a prerequisite under both domestic and international law before any lawful deportation can occur.

Instead, the Court recorded that submissions had been heard from both sides and directed that orders will be delivered on October 24, 2025.

By not engaging with either issue — the alleged “previous sending back” or the requirement of verification — the Bench left unresolved the two fundamental questions that have defined this case since its inception:

1. Can persons released on Supreme Court-granted bail be re-detained without bail cancellation, solely on the State’s readiness to deport?
2. Can deportation be initiated without verification or proof of nationality — or, as now alleged, after an unexplained earlier “sending back”?

Legal and factual uncertainty deepens

The State’s assertion that both men had once been “sent back” — without any affidavit or documentary trail — now sits uneasily alongside its claim that they are being held “pending deportation.” The petitioners have maintained throughout that the detention is illegal, since both men were released under valid judicial bail orders, and no court has recalled or varied those directions.

The Bench’s decision to step back from addressing either the alleged prior deportation or the absence of verification records leaves a grey area — a vacuum between State assertion and judicial scrutiny, where neither legality nor process is yet established.

Background: From bail to re-detention

Abdul Sheikh and Majibur Rehman were declared foreigners by Foreigners Tribunals in 2018 and 2019. After over two years in detention, both were released on bail under the Supreme Court’s April 2020 order in Suo Motu WP(C) No. 1 of 2020, which allowed long-term detainees to be freed under conditions of weekly reporting. For nearly two years, both complied — signing attendance registers at Kajolgaon and Goalpara Police Stations every week — until their sudden re-detention in May 2025.

Their families’ petitions have challenged these arrests as unconstitutional, arguing that bail orders remain valid until recalled and that “verification” cannot justify re-incarceration. The State has since argued that deportation efforts, halted during the pandemic, have now resumed — though it has yet to produce any official verification or communication with Bangladesh confirming nationality.

Their petitions, filed by their relatives, argued that detention without recall of bail orders is unconstitutional, and that any “verification” could be undertaken without custody. The State, however, has maintained that it is reinitiating deportations and that detention in holding centres is lawful pending such deportation.

Previous detailed reports may be read here.

Related:

Calcutta High Court strikes down arbitrary deportations of West Bengal residents, orders return from Bangladesh

Bangladeshi Court declares deported Bengal families as Indians, orders their return

Gauhati HC defers final hearing in Majibur Rehman and Abdul Sheikh petitions; Questions state on justification for continued detention

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The post “They were once sent back”: Court refrains from probing State’s claim as Assam seeks to justify continued detention appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This brief assesses this decision of the Gujarat High Court, which ruled that individuals alleged to be “victims” of wrongful religious conversion could be charged with instigation or abetting, irrespective of any lawful (or not) religious conversion under the Gujarat Freedom of Religion Act, 2003. It also reviews the legal landscape for the law, the history of the interim order issued by the Division Bench in 2021, to the Supreme Court, and contemplates the indications of the recent decision for individual autonomy and minority rights in the Constitution.

The Gujarat Freedom of Religion Act was first enacted in 2003 and was reportedly intended to restrict conversions obtained through force, allurement, or fraud. To do this, the Act attempted to restrict conversion by defining the two relevant concepts. “Allurement” is defined broadly to include the providing of material benefit, gifts, or any other means of temptation, while “force” includes not just physical coercion, but social coercion or spiritual coercion. The Act also included certain procedural safeguards and a call for transparency, requiring advance consent from the district magistrate prior to any conversion taking place, and a notice to the district magistrate, after the religious conversion had occurred, regarding the conversion of individuals.

In 2021, the Act was significantly amended, considerably broadening its application. Of particular note was a provision that prohibited conversion engaged in “by marriage,” which meant that any interfaith marriage could potentially be an unlawful conversion and could see criminal consequences. The revised sections (sections 3, 4, 5, 6) elaborated the definitions of unlawful conversion and expanded the consequences, such as longer periods of imprisonment and increased fines, particularly for mass conversions or conversion of vulnerable targets which are minors and Scheduled Castes or Tribes we were physically disadvantaged. Penalizing schemes have also been extended to group converts and not just converts.

Section 3 prohibits conversions through the use of force, allurement, fraud, or marriage, creating a broad ban of both direct actions and indirect inducements involving religious conversion. The later sections 4, 4A, 4B, and 4C, then create specific punishments, voiding any marriage conducted or executed for the purpose of conversion, as well as additional punishments for mass conversion events.

Section 5 establishes punishments for violations, whereas Section 6 establishes a prohibition that prosecutions cannot be made without prior sanction from the district magistrate, ostensibly for frivolous or political motives. Section 6A subsequently reverses the burden of proof, requiring the accused to prove that there was no force or allurement linked to the conversion, effectively reversing one of the cornerstones for criminal law and default criminal procedures.

The impact of these provisions, and most notably for interfaith marriages the criminalizing of conversion by marriage and the reversing the burden of proof, come together to place serious consequences on an interfaith marriage by potentially invalidating the display of an otherwise legitimate marriage if conversion is alleged against either spouse. All of these areas cluster legal implications for individuals, regulating personal choice, religious choice, and marital choice under scrutiny of the State and criminal offenses, thereby restricting voluntary acts of an interfaith marriage and ratcheting-up legal risks.

In conclusion, the legal framework set out by the Gujarat Freedom of Religion Act (sections 3 to 6A) constitutes a restrictive legal environment regulating conversions of religion, particularly where the conversions relate to interfaith marriages, through the expansive definitions of conversion that are illegal, strict procedural controls, and broad criminal liability, with important consequences for both individual freedoms and the rights of religious minorities.

In response to the amendments being contested, the state court in Gujarat issued an interim stay on the most controversial provisions of the amendments for cases involving voluntary interfaith couples in August 2021. The court ruled that criminalizing marriages and cohabitation between consenting adults would infringe on the protected constitutional right to marry and choose a partner contained in Article 21. However, the court’s stay injunction on the operation of the amendment provisions was limited to consensual marriages, permitting enforcement of the amendments in circumstances where force, deceit, or allurement were alleged. A different but related process in the Supreme Court of India is considering the larger constitutionality of the intermediaries of religious domination and sexuality with related petitions filed from several states.

The current Gujarat High Court ruling does not negate or contradict the previous stay issued in 2021, but rather limits the scope and application of that ruling. The 2021 stay was issued by a division bench and expressly protected voluntary interfaith marriages from being the subject of criminal proceedings under the Gujarat Freedom of Religion Act, in instances where there has been no allegation of force, fraud, or allurement. The current ruling deals with a vastly different set of facts and law: in the current case, individuals have been converted (allegedly by inducement or coercion) to a different religion and are implicated in converting others to that religion through means of influencing, coercing, or allurement, often by way of material incentives or social pressure.

The High Court distinctly affirmed that such individuals were not “victims” but instead that they were offenders. The Court explained that even if they were initially converted by force or some allurement and were thus victims, if they engaged in further abetting others either indirectly or directly, then they would be committing a new and separate offence under the Act. The judgement explains that “had those persons, after getting converted, not engaged in any activity of further converting other persons, they could have been said to be victims of conversion. However, on account of their act of influencing and pressuring and alluring other persons to convert… a prima facie offence is made out against them.” In essence, the Court is laying down a clear principle that victimhood does not confer immunity if the individual chooses to act as a direct participant in further conversions.

This line of thinking undermines the conventional legal and moral separation between victims and offenders. Practically, it means any person who may have been coerced (through any means) or manipulated (regardless of the instrument of coercion) into converting can be potentially prosecuted, if they are (even in a minor way) later found to have converted others themselves—even due to social coercion. The risk of this reasoning is that it could potentially spread the net of criminality too wide-reaching, especially with respect to group conversions in closely connected or marginalized communities, where social ties or economic ties or familial ties may have led individuals to join in the group conversion.

From a constitutional standpoint, this raises profound challenges stemming from Article 25 (freedom of religion), and Article 21 (right to autonomy and to marry). The law’s broad definitions and the reversal of the burden of proof (Section 6A) put accused persons, who are often poor or socially vulnerable, at a disadvantage in defending themselves. It is also likely to deter proper practices of religious expression or voluntary religious association. The Supreme Court – as it reviews the constitutional validity of anti-conversion laws in general – will ultimately need to address whether this expansion of liability is proper and consistent with fundamental rights or, alternatively, provides space for arbitrary and discriminatory enforcement against minorities and interfaith couples.

From a constitutional perspective this raises many challenges stemming from Article 21 to Article 25. The law’s reversal of the burden of proof in Section 6A as well puts accused persons who are often socially and financially vulnerable at a great disadvantage in defending themselves which makes it more likely to deter proper practice of religious expressions.

In conclusion, the ruling of the Gujarat High Court in 2025 ventures into uncertain new ground with respect to India’s law regarding conversion by making even so-called “victims” prosecutable if they subsequently aid someone’s conversion. While distinguishing, and not overruling, the prior stay for voluntary interfaith couples, the Court’s decision expands the law’s reach and increases the stakes for individual rights, particularly among minorities and the entire category of vulnerable people. As the Supreme Court now considers and reviews these statutes, it is possible that the ultimate fate of religious freedom in India, as well as the fate of personal autonomy and procedural fairness, rests in the balance.

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

Sources: 

1. https://sabrangindia.in/sc-issues-notice-guj-govt-plea-against-hc-stay-anti-conversion-law/
2. https://sabrangindia.in/guj-hc-refuses-remove-stay-sec-5-anti-conversion-law/
3. https://sabrangindia.in/anti-conversion-law-will-not-apply-inter-faith-marriages-unless-there-force-fraud/
4. https://www.opindia.com/2025/10/gujarat-hc-rejects-argument-that-converted-muslims-cant-be-accused-of-forcing-others-to-convert/
5. https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/ahmedabad/victims-of-religious-conversion-can-be-booked-for-offence-if-they-induce-others-to-convert-gujarat-hc-10295684/
6. https://www.barandbench.com/news/forced-religious-conversions-converts-can-be-booked-if-they-lure-others-to-change-religion-says-gujarat-hc
7. https://lawtrend.in/gujarat-hc-victims-of-religious-conversion-can-also-face-prosecution-if-they-later-convert-others/
8. https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/ahmedabad/victims-of-religious-conversion-can-be-booked-for-offence-if-they-induce-others-to-convert-gujarat-hc-10295684/

Related:

“Anti-conversion laws being weaponised”: CJP seeks interim relief against misuse of anti-conversion laws

SC issues notice to 5 states in CJP’s renewed challenge to anti-conversion laws

CJP plea against anti-conversion laws: SC seeks to know status of cases challenging ‘anti conversion’ laws in HCs

CJP, other rights groups challenge Maharashtra Govt GR setting up a Committee to “monitor inter-faith marriages”

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