This second part of the P.V. Narasimha Rao Memorial Lecture 2026 at the Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University recently, political economist, Parakala Prabhakar emphasises that the end game of the controversial and ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) conducted by an obviously partisan Election Commission of India (ECI) is the transformation of the Indian state into rigid majoritarian rule.

Sabrangindia is publishing the second part of this lecture today

Leave alone the citizenry. Public intellectuals, media groups, and even political leaders have swallowed this propaganda. (the narrative propagated by the ECI and the present ruling dispensation that SIR is meant only to clean up voters’)

They are uninterested in casting a probing eye on this large-scale disenfranchisement. Political leaders and a large section of the media are looking at this exercise only from the electoral point of view. They are assessing only, who this disenfranchisement benefits and whose electoral chances it harms.

Therefore, many non-BJP/NDA politicians I have interacted with in the states that went to polls after the implementation of SIR felt that it was unlikely to harm their electoral prospects. Among these there are two categories: One felt that the deleted voters were not ‘their voters’. This in itself is troubling. Because these politicians did not want to bother about deletions per se, especially if their calculations show that those deleted from the rolls may have been voters but were/are not their own voters! The second category are those that understood that their own voters too were deleted, but not enough in number to harm their winning chances. For example, some told me that the deletions were about four thousand votes, but they won their last election by about eight thousand votes. And therefore, despite deletions of ‘their own voters’, their net chances of winning the election were intact. It does not matter for them if some eligible voters were disenfranchised.

Deleted voters stay in the public discourse and news cycles only until the election results are declared. Leaders who made some noise about voter deletions, the media which wrote about them suddenly fall silent once the election results are declared. Today nobody talks about the fate of 80 lakh deleted voters of Bihar, 93 lakhs disenfranchised people of Bengal, 97 lakh voters of Tamil Nadu. Because there are no elections there now, no one talks about the 2.83 crore deleted voters of Uttar Pradesh, 44 lakh deleted voters of Rajasthan, 28 lakh deleted voters of Chhattisgarh, 45 lakhs from Madhya Pradesh, 77 lakh deleted voters of Gujarat!

West Bengal presents an even more deeply troubling picture. About 28 lakh voters were not allowed to vote even though they were not pronounced ineligible. Their papers were not examined and claims not adjudicated. Yet, the ECI, the ruling dispensation, many in the political class and the media want us to believe that the Assembly election of May 2026 was legitimate. They also want us to believe that the SIR process was bona fide, only meant to weed out the “Shifted, Absent, Duplicate and Dead (SADD) voters along with infiltrators. The ECI officials still maintain with a straight face that no eligible voter would be denied of their right to vote. 

Indian Polity in the wake of the SIR

One needs to look at the long-term implications of SIR for our polity. It is to these implications that I now turn.

In the wake of SIR India will have two classes of people: one with the right to vote and another without the right to vote. The ones without the right to vote will necessarily be unsure about their citizenship. That is no surprise nowadays when almost everybody’s citizenship is uncertain. Now we are told that even a passport is merely a travel document and not a proof of citizenship.

Let me undertake a thought experiment now. Imagine that none of us in this hall has a vote. Let us also imagine that all of us live together in one residential colony. To this colony where every resident is a non-voter, would any politician or a candidate in an election come to campaign? Would any politician work for us? Would they give us drinking water, a road, a school, a health centre, a power connection?

I can say for sure that a politician would not even spend a minute of their time to stop by in our colony.

We can live there but with no claims on the state for protection and care. We are beyond the state’s pale. The state has no responsibility towards us. It does not have to care for us. If at all it does, which is unlikely, it is out of its generosity and not on account of our rightful claims on it. The state is not duty bound. We do not any more belong to the political society. In other words, the political society of India will be constricted, circumcised. Those who are excluded are no longer relevant to the Republic.

Let me tell you here that so far SIR has deleted about six crore voters. At this rate, by the time the exercise is completed in the entire country, the estimated deletions would be about 16 crores. This means 160 million voters! This is not a small number. About 80% of the countries in the world have populations of 16 crores or less. SIR in other words, is excising (or eliminating) a few countries from within India and throwing them out into the wilderness.

We are so far used to a democracy where voters decided who should be in the government. But now, in the wake of SIR, we are transitioning into a new a democracy in which those who sit in the government are deciding who should be the voters.

That is the picture which is unfolding in our country today.

BJP-isation of Political Parties

SIR has yet another troubling consequence. It is not difficult to understand that every political party will address only the interests, concerns, and priorities of those who have a right to vote. Only they matter to political parties. As we have understood the drift of the SIR deletions, most of those who retain voting right are likely to be savarna (upper caste/privileged caste) Hindus, if not in the immediate present, but eventually at any rate. We need to keep in mind that the present SIR is unlikely to be the last one. Do not rule out the possibility that SIR becomes unstoppable once it is normalised in the way that it is now normalized and even accepted. There is a probability that we will regularly have such SIR exercises that would progressively eliminate the so called unwanted and impure elements from our political society. After many iterations of SIR, the polity will be fully purged of those unwanted elements.

The non-Hindus and non-savarna Hindus who might still retain their voting right will be rendered into a politically inconsequential minority. Even without the SIR the ruling party at the centre is able to have a council of ministers without a single member belonging to the Muslim and Christian minorities. In the entire history of our independent Republic, we never had a Union Council of Ministers that did not have a Muslim and a Christian representative. Even after the conclusion of the SIR, if any minorities and non-savarna Hindus still remain with franchise, they will still be made politically inconsequential by the process of Delimitation. Assam and Jammu C Kashmir showed the way on how to pack and crack the constituencies by implementing Delimitation to make such unwanted populations irrelevant in electoral contests.

If that is the situation now, imagine what would be the political significance of these sections of our society after the SIR after it is fully implemented. That is the level of Hindu majoritarian consolidation that the current ruling dispensation could mobilize behind itself. With SIR that would be the only political society that is going to remain for every political party in the country to operate in. That would mean Hindu-isation, or rather ‘savarna Hindu-isation’, of our polity. This would result in every political party ending up as a Hindu majoritarian party, some more and some less. But all of them Hindu majoritarian, nevertheless.

The die would be cast; the pitch would be set; the political turf would be transformed. Every political party if it has to be electorally successful or even stay relevant in that curated polity and transformed turf, would play like the BJP, adopt the programme of the BJP, would perhaps even be compelled to be more BJP-like than the present BJP itself.

The point I am making is: in the medium to long term, the consequences of SIR would make every political party like the BJP. In other words, every political party in the country would be BJP-ised.

Israel-isation of India

We already see religious symbols of the majority gradually creeping up to the status of quasi state symbols. Not long ago we had seen the spectacle of several Hindu religious men parade along with a symbol of monarchy, the Sengol, in our democratic Republic’s newly built Parliament House. Not long after a ten-hour marathon debate on Vande Mataram, the government had issued an order that all central government functions should have the song’s all 6 stanzas rendered in every official function. We also are witness to government schemes getting their names that clearly allude to Hindu scriptures, godheads, and epics. Renaming MNREGA to call it G-RAM-G is only the latest example.

This process is worryingly close to the political culture of Israel. The Jewish state is unapologetic about having Jewish religious symbols as its state symbols. The Star of David is on its national flag. Every political party in that country serves only Jewish interests, addresses only Jewish aspirations, heeds only to Jewish concerns and priorities. They are barely distinguishable from one another on core issues. They, in fact, work to outdo each other in championing Jewish interests as well as in displaying their indifference and antipathy to non-Jewish concerns. The state takes no obligation onto itself to the well-being of non-Jews.

The process that is now underway in India, if unchecked, will make India go the Israeli way. In other words, what we see today is a steady Israel-isation of India.

Dismantling Secular, Inclusive India 

The unfolding of these two phenomena is unmistakable: BJP-isation of political parties on the one hand and Israel-isation of Indian polity on the other, both proceeding in lockstep.

This is dismantling the idea of India as a secular, plural, and federal state that pledged itself to delivering liberty, equality, justice and fraternity to its people and to foster a humane society. The idea of India embedded in our 1947 tryst with destiny and the political compact enshrined in our 1950 constitution are now in mortal danger.

The secular, plural, democratic conception of India has been the target of unrelenting assaults from a body of individuals and several other past-worshipping obscurantist platforms. They have been openly and doggedly championing an unequal social order for over a century. Their project is to seek India’s future in its past; to recover from that imaginary past a fabricated pristine glory; to turn the secular, democratic Republic into a culturally, linguistically, religiously homogenized nation. The notion of Indian civilization as a synthesis, and as a palimpsest, is abhorrent to them. Their project’s notion of India seeks to obliterate the rich diversity of cultures, languages, lifestyles, eating habits, sartorial practices, ways of worship and syncretism that the country is blessed with. A flattened India is their notion of a ‘civilizational’ state.

SIR is but one key element in a grand project that seeks to assert exclusive Hindu ownership of the Indian nation, to make that Hindu-owned nation the sole rightful resident in the territory of the Indian state – and turn it into a Hindu nation-state, a Hindu Rashtra. It seeks to redefine the country’s identity as ‘Hindu nation-state’. In that configuration ‘savarna’ is deliberately muted and made illegible for the time being for tactical reasons.

Eventually, when constraints are broken, it would be unveiled as a full-blooded, unapologetic, wall to wall ‘savarna Hindu Rashtra’. Make no mistake.

SIR as a Bloodless Political Genocide

When we became a Republic, our founding parents made it a home for everyone who lived in its territory. Membership of the Republic, or citizenship, was not predicated on religion, caste, gender, language, culture, region of residence, colour, economic status, educational qualifications and such other things. Everyone who chose India as their land of residence was a citizen and also a voter. Denominational attributes did not privilege one or the other as rightful owners of the nation. Everybody was.

Europe went through a different experience when nation states were formed. There were people who rightfully belonged and those who were others or minorities. That was the basis of the European nation-states. There were majorities and minorities. Minorities’ residence was predicated on their becoming tolerable to the majorities. European countries, and countries which adopted that model of building their nation-states, either subjugated minorities, pushed them out of their territories, or even exterminated them. Beginning from the cleansing of the Iberian Peninsula in the mid 15th century until the ethnic cleansing that Israel carries out today, history is witness to many bloody attempts to forge homogenised nations.

But in India we chose a different path. We designed our collective life in a way that the state gave room for everyone, despite their diversity, to live together and thrive.

But ideologies in India that continue to draw their inspiration from the European nation-owned state concept want our Republic too to be turned into a state, owned by one nation – the Hindu nation. In their conception of a Republic, the others needed to be assimilated to the point of obliterating their respective identities, pushed out of the territory of the nation-state, or exterminated through genocide. In the present-day India, both the pushing out and physical extermination of unassimilated minorities are politically impractical.

However, extermination of a political kind of the others is possible. Instead of exterminating the citizen, citizenship could be exterminated. SIR is the weapon forged for that kind of extermination. It exterminates citizenship of those unwanted elements by exterminating their franchise. It is clear that without franchise, citizenship is hollow, without substance. Disenfranchisement hollows out citizenship. Therefore, SIR is nothing but a bloodless political genocide. It exterminates citizenship, pushes people out of political society, and makes people stateless even as they continue to live within the borders of the Indian state. What CAA-NRC could not do, SIR is tasked to accomplish.

The idea of India as a state-nation (in contradistinction to a nation-state) that is home to diverse peoples, cultures, languages and religions is being dismantled at a fiendish pace.

Thank you for your attention.

Part one may be read here.

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The post Disenfranchisement route to Majoritarian Rule: Political Logic of SIR appeared first on SabrangIndia.

According to Hindustan Times, the IDC will now examine the contents of the film and make recommendations to the Union government regarding any further action. The committee forms part of the government’s oversight mechanism for OTT platforms and digital publishers and comprises senior representatives from the Ministries of Information and Broadcasting, Home Affairs, Electronics and Information Technology, Law and Justice, Defence, External Affairs, Women and Child Development, along with other ministries or domain experts that the MIB may nominate. It is chaired by an authorised officer of at least the rank of Joint Secretary.

The latest development follows the government’s directive to ZEE5 to take down Satluj under Section 69A of the IT Act, read with Part III of the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021. Section 69A empowers the Central Government to block or disable public access to online content on grounds including the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State, defence of India, friendly relations with foreign States, public order, or to prevent the commission of cognisable offences.

Unlike theatrical releases, which require certification from the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), OTT platforms fall outside the CBFC’s jurisdiction and are governed by Part III of the 2021 IT Rules. These rules extend a regulatory framework to publishers of online curated content and digital news, enabling the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting to issue directions regarding online content under specified circumstances.

Government sources, quoted by PTI and Hindustan Times, stated that the takedown was prompted by “security concerns” and the obligations imposed on OTT platforms under the IT Rules. According to officials, the makers had originally submitted the film, then titled Punjab ’95, to the CBFC in 2022 for theatrical certification. The Board reportedly sought an unprecedented 127 cuts before granting certification. The filmmakers declined to accept those edits, following which the project remained stalled for several years before eventually being released directly on ZEE5 under the new title Satluj on July 3.

Officials told PTI that after the uncut version became available online, the government intervened and directed ZEE5 to remove it. “If they want to release the film in theatres and OTT, they should follow the laid down norms,” one official was quoted as saying by PTI.

Following the government’s direction, ZEE5 confirmed through an official statement on Instagram that Satluj would be “unavailable in India until further notice” due to “current developments”, without elaborating further. The platform thanked viewers for the overwhelming response the film had received following its release. While inaccessible in India, the film reportedly continues to be available internationally through ZEE5 Global.

The controversy has also highlighted the distinct regulatory regimes governing cinema and digital platforms. Newly appointed CBFC Chairperson Shashi Shekar clarified that the certification board had no role in the OTT release, observing that “OTT platforms don’t come under the jurisdiction of the CBFC.”

A film about one of India’s most important human rights cases

Directed by Honey Trehan, Satluj chronicles the life of Jaswant Singh Khalra, the prominent Punjab human rights activist who exposed the illegal cremation of thousands of unidentified bodies by the Punjab Police during the militancy and counter-insurgency period between 1984 and 1994.

Khalra was abducted outside his residence in September 1995 after documenting these disappearances and was never seen alive again. His case later became one of the most significant instances of enforced disappearance and custodial killing in India. In 2005, four Punjab Police personnel were convicted for his abduction and murder, and in 2007, the Punjab and Haryana High Court enhanced their sentences to life imprisonment.

Despite the historical importance of Khalra’s work, the film has faced repeated obstacles since its completion. Apart from the demand for 127 cuts by the CBFC, Punjab ’95 was also removed from the official line-up of the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival shortly before its scheduled premiere, without any public explanation from the festival organisers.

Detailed report may be read here.

Legal basis invoked by the government

The government’s action relies on the framework created under the Information Technology Act and the 2021 IT Rules. Part III of the IT Rules incorporates a Code of Ethics applicable to publishers of online curated content. The Code requires publishers to exercise due caution when content may affect India’s sovereignty and integrity, threaten national security, disturb public order, harm friendly relations with foreign States, or incite violence. It further requires publishers to be mindful of India’s multi-religious and multi-racial social context while depicting communities and sensitive subjects.

Notably, aspects of the Code of Ethics have themselves been the subject of constitutional challenges before various High Courts. The Bombay High Court had stayed certain provisions relating to governmental oversight under the IT Rules in 2021, a stay that the Madras High Court subsequently observed would operate across India. As reported by Mint, it remains unclear whether the Centre specifically relied upon the Code of Ethics while issuing the takedown direction to ZEE5, or whether the order rests exclusively on its powers under Section 69A.

More on IT Act may be read here and here.

Political and public backlash

The removal of the film has triggered sharp criticism from political leaders, filmmakers and free speech advocates. As reported by Scroll, Shiromani Akali Dal president Sukhbir Singh Badal described the decision as “not mere censorship” but “an assault on our collective memory, truth and freedom of expression”, arguing that Punjab must be allowed to confront its history rather than suppress it.

AAP leader Baltej Pannu similarly alleged that the removal was intended to prevent younger generations from learning about a painful chapter in Punjab’s past, claiming that both the BJP and Congress had an interest in suppressing the historical record.

Related:

From Punjab ’95 to Satluj: When cinema becomes a battlefield over history, memory and censorship

Satluj: A film encountered

Kerala’s LDF govt to defy Centre’s diktat, to screen all films as per schedule at IFFK

Erasing Resistance: How the CBFC is censoring films that challenge caste and state power

Safe harbour or shadow censorship? The battle over India’s digital speech

The telegram NEET case and the expansion of platform-level censorship in India

The post Centre escalates action against Satluj, refers film to high-level committee after ordering OTT takedown appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Sadly, some claim the Kho originates further ahead from the forests at Dadamandi-Dwarikhal but accepting this would render the historically significant Langurgad meaningless. Langurgarhi holds a prominent place in Uttarakhand’s history as it was here in 1790 that Garhwali soldiers, after a year of fierce fighting, forced the invading Gurkha forces to retreat. The site lies about 25 km from Dogadda town, at an altitude of roughly 2,700 meters. Langur-gad is named as it actually is sourced from the forests in the Langur Patti or Languri or Langurgarhi and its adjoining forests. It ends its journey traversing nearly 20 kilometres to a scenic place of Dogadda where it meets the other river emerging from Sila village forests near Lansdown. The new river emerges out of this confluence is known as Kho or Khoh.

Dogadda has long been a culturally and politically important town in Uttarakhand. It deserves official recognition as the origin point of the Kho River like Devprayag, the sacred confluence of the Alaknanda and Bhagirathi. The Uttarakhand government should take a clear decision on this matter by officially acknowledging Dogadda as the source place of river Khoh and ask the local bodies there to act fast to preserve its beautiful confluence.

The most important thing is that both these tributaries, Langurgarh and Silgarh, carry water year-round and are not mere seasonal streams. During the monsoon, they turn fierce and aggressive, carrying tons of stones and boulders. Nothing can stand against their force. Having grown up in Dogadda, my birthplace, I am witness to its beauty as well as fury since my childhood when these rivers ran crystal clear and their gentle murmuring turning into a roar during the rains. But today, when I look at Langurgad towards Dadamandi or Silgad towards Lansdowne, I actually feel depressed at their ‘plight’. They were the place where we really enjoyed walking around and watching their powerful fury during the monsoon. How, we would debate among ourselves as which is bigger or which carries more water and devastation.

Today, large resorts have taken over the riverbanks. Water is blocked at multiple points to create recreational pools for tourists. People drive their Thars and other SUVs straight into the riverbeds. The river’s entire character has changed. Uncontrolled mining has inflicted further damage. It is extremely painful to see big vehicles being washed on the river and passing through it at various places.

Visiting the confluence at Dogadda filled me with sorrow. This was once our childhood playground, where we watched the rivers swell with terrifying power during monsoons. Today, people stand inside both Silgad and Langurgad, blocking the flow to create private pools. The growing number of riverside resorts is making the problem worse. By the time the water reaches the main confluence, the situation is even more dire. At the junction, Silgad barely has any visible flow. Grass has overgrown the area, and sewage from nearby markets flows directly into it. A sign at the municipal sewerage plant claims ₹21 lakh was spent, yet locals say the untreated waste continues to pollute the river at the confluence.

Can the local municipality and Uttarakhand government not stop these unauthorised constructions along the riverbanks to keep it alive?

Can they not organize cleaning drives with community help?

Mountain Rivers particularly those we term as smaller ones, are inherently beautiful and while smaller in size or volume, they have life and energy. Their clear, bubbling waters reflect their vitality. Small rivers like these also flow close to farmers and local communities because they are directly linked to their daily lives. Farmers draw water easily from them, and people once bathed in natural deep pools known locally as “Dhandi”. Those natural pools have now vanished. Outsiders have built stone walls across the rivers, artificially altering their flow and character. Water is dammed everywhere so tourists can lounge for hours. Riverside resorts are drawing more visitors, turning the rivers into venues for parties and recreation.

After the confluence of Langurgad and Silgad at Dogadda, the newly formed Kho River flows towards Kotdwar, a town at the distance of about 10 kilometres. The stretch between Dogadda and Kotdwar is particularly scenic: the river winds through massive rocks and boulders. Because the riverbed is not easily accessible, the water remains remarkably clean.  Dogadda’s famous Durga temple provides a beautiful view of the river carving its way through huge rocks. This section also serves as a vital watering point for wild elephants. Herds are frequently spotted here, as the area forms an important part of Rajaji National Park.

By the time the Kho reaches Siddhbali temple in Kotdwar, its condition deteriorates. The river splits into several channels — some naturally, others turned into small bathing pools by visitors. Tourists throng the area. Men, women, and children search for spots to bathe. The riverbed is full of stones brought down during monsoon floods. Beyond Kotdwar, the river reaches Saneh Park and Saneh Road, marking the beginning of its journey through the plains. By now, it has been joined by a couple of local streams and appears fuller. Saneh Road, located on the Najibabad-Kotdwar railway line, lies in a forested zone frequented by wild animals and remains remarkably scenic.

In its final stretch, the Kho River crosses several small towns in Bijnor district of Uttar Pradesh. After traveling approximately 112 kilometres, it merges with the Ramganga River at Latifpur Bila (or Latifpur Ba) village in Dhampur tehsil. Honestly speaking, at the confluence, the Kho often appears larger than the Ramganga. This is because a massive dam at Kalagarh upstream drastically reduces the Ramganga’s flow, with water released only through barrages at a few points.

Interestingly, a barrage has also been constructed on the Kho River at Sherkot, about 25 km before the confluence. From here, an 82-km-long feeder canal supplies water to the Ganga. The main Ganga flows from Haridwar through Bijnor to Garhmukteshwar. At Haridwar’s Bhimgoda barrage, most of the Ganga’s water is diverted into the Upper and Lower Ganga Canals. The “divine” waters seen at ‘Har ki Pauri’ is actually canal water. The real, depleted Ganga can be seen near Chandi Ghat bridge, where the riverbed often lies almost dry. After Haridwar, the Ganga enters Uttar Pradesh at village Balawali in Bijnor district. Its course from Bijnor to Garhmukteshwar remains largely dry except during the monsoon.

This drying of rivers is devastating agriculture in the Gangetic plain. While large canals serve thousands of villages, fields along the natural river courses suffer severe water scarcity. At Garhmukteshwar Ganga water gets life from the direct water of Kho River released from Sherkot Barrage through its feeder Canal. Every day, 535 cusecs of water from the Sherkot Kho barrage travels through 82 kilometres long canal and merges with the Ganga at Tigri Ghat near Garhmukteshwar, helping keep the river alive in that region. However, excessive human interference with river waters — largely in the name of agriculture — is fundamentally altering their character and causing ecological damage. We have actually moved to a point where these rivers are increasingly being managed only to meet religious and tourism needs at specific ghats and pilgrimage sites, while the water for farming continues to decline due to climate change, rampant mining, and illegal construction of resorts and hotels along mountain streams. In effect, our rivers are being converted into entertainment zones, severing their vital connections with local communities, farmers, and indigenous people to cater to urban elite desires.

Read a previous report on the impact of religious tourism in Uttarakhand by the author here.

While the Kho River breathes new life into the Ganga near Garhmukteshwar, its main channel meets the Ramganga about 28 kms away at Latifpur Bila Ahatmali in Dhampur tehsil. Even here, multiple barrages on the Ramganga (after the Kalagarh dam) leave it depleted — and once again, the Kho revives it. The Ramganga then flows through Moradabad and Shahjahanpur before joining the Ganga at Hardoi, where the confluence area also resembles a desert. Further downstream, water reappears at Bithoor (22 km before Kanpur) due to yet another barrage, making Bithoor an important religious and recreational spot, while Kanpur’s stretch is dominated by sand mining.

Reaching Confluences is Extremely Difficult

In the plains, accessing river confluences — except at major religious sites — is very challenging. Reaching the Kho-Ramganga or Ramganga-Ganga confluence requires great patience and effort; many places are accessible only on foot or by tractor.  As these are not religious places hence none is bothered about the confluence of the rivers. At the Sherkot barrage on the Kho, grass has overgrown the area and water is barely visible. At Latifpur Bila, the path to the confluence is covered in dust and sand. I attempted to reach it twice in the scorching afternoon heat but failed. A farmer from the Saini community, seeing our struggle, kindly offered to take me on his tractor. The ride was perilous across the sandy, pitted terrain reflecting the flooded area in the monsoon. During the journey, he shared the fact that most locals belong to Dalit and extremely backward communities. He was also critical of the government for harming farmers and expressed faith in the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP), while observing that the bigger farmers in the area support the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). He also mentioned that annual floods from these rivers regularly destroy crops. This year, with no rain yet, only sugarcane has survived. Even if rain arrives late, farmers stand to gain little. Remarkably, despite both rivers flowing through the fields, local agriculture remains heavily dependent on rainfall. This unambiguously means that farming communities living on the bank of the rivers only suffer the devastation caused by floods and benefit little from the river in “normal time”. During the monsoon, the canals are protected and the original rivers get the fury resulting in the water crossing to the nearby fields and destroying the crop, livestock and human life.

The Crisis Facing the Kho River

The Kho is a relatively small river, yet it has sacrificed much of its own identity to sustain the larger Ganga and Ramganga systems. It supplies water to Dogadda and Kotdwar towns and remains a vital cultural lifeline for local communities. In Uttar Pradesh, the barrage on the Kho irrigates hundreds of villages in Bijnor and Moradabad districts.

Tragically, the very river that gives life to the Ganga and Ramganga — and supports countless farmers — is under severe threat at its source. Both the Uttarakhand and Uttar Pradesh governments must act urgently, working with local communities, municipalities, and panchayats. Immediate steps are needed to:

– Ban all mining on the Kho River

– Stop the unnatural blocking of water in the river and its tributaries

– Take legal action against illegal resorts and hotels along its banks

Saving the Kho River also means protecting the wildlife habitats of Rajaji National Park and the Kalagarh forest division. Kho river’s ecological and environmental importance can be visualised both right from its beginning till it ends its journey. At places like Dogadda the ground water was available very easily. At the time, when a majority of the hill as well as Tarai regions of Uttarakhand suffer from Potable water crisis, towns like Dogadda were actually a haven for all. The water quality here was extraordinary and people never needed refrigerators in the past as water remained cold during the summer and warm in the winter.

It is time to protect and preserve river Kho so that it continues to give us life and energy.

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The post Environment: The growing crisis on the Kho River appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Two days after the child, who had stepped out on Saturday afternoon to buy a birthday gift, was allegedly abducted, sexually assaulted and murdered, Surjyapur remains suspended between grief and rage. Four arrests have been made, a Special Investigation Team (SIT) has been constituted and further raids are underway. Yet for residents, the biggest question remains unanswered: could the crime have been prevented had authorities acted faster?

Nearly two years after the rape and murder of a trainee doctor inside RG Kar Medical College Hospital triggered one of Bengal’s biggest public movements, another brutal crime against a girl has once again shaken the state. This time, however, the epicentre of anger is not Kolkata but this village in South 24 Parganas, where protests continue to erupt in different corners rather than under one organised banner.

On Tuesday, there was no single protest site. Small groups of residents could be seen outside the victim’s house, near the Surjyapur police outpost, around the block office and at local crossings. The slogans may have become quieter than Sunday’s fury, but the demand has remained unchanged: justice without delay.

Surjyapur Residents Allege Police Delay, Demand Swift Justice

“We are not scared because police are here,” says Sagir Ali, who witnessed the recovery of the child’s body from the pond. “We are scared because if this could happen to an 11-year-old in our village, it can happen to anyone.”

He recalled standing a short distance away as villagers pulled the body from the water.

“I could not go closer. She was just a little girl. I felt shattered. Around 10 to 12 of us were present, but there was no administration at the spot when the body was recovered. We want nothing less than the severest punishment for those responsible.”

Residents repeatedly alleged that they, not the police, took the lead in tracing the suspects.

Juli Seikh, one of the villagers who participated in the search, claimed locals reviewed CCTV footage from nearby shops, identified two suspects, tracked them down and caught them before handing them over to police.

“It was us who checked the CCTV footage and caught them,” he alleged. “If villagers had not acted immediately, would the arrests have happened this quickly?”

Several residents also accused the police of failing to respond promptly after an FIR was lodged at Baruipur Police Station.

There are further allegations that local BJP workers attempted to intervene after villagers handed over the suspects to police, and that pressure was exerted to secure their release on Sunday. The allegation could not be independently verified, and there has been no official response from the BJP.

The sense of insecurity has spread far beyond the victim’s family. Parents say they are no longer allowing young children, especially girls, to step out alone even for routine errands. Conversations in tea stalls, markets and village lanes repeatedly return to the same question: “If an 11-year-old is not safe here, who is?”

The child’s body, stuffed inside a sack, was recovered from a pond in the Surjyapur Haat area on Sunday morning after she had gone missing the previous afternoon. The shocking discovery transformed grief into fury.

Hundreds of residents from Surjyapur and neighbouring villages poured onto the streets, blocking the Baruipur–Joynagar Road and railway tracks for several hours. Tyres were set on fire, a police vehicle was vandalised and protesters demanded immediate arrests and exemplary punishment.

Amid the violence, one man suspected by the crowd of involvement in the crime was allegedly beaten to death by an enraged mob, underscoring the intensity of public anger.

Political Reactions Intensify as Protests Continue in Surjyapur

Facing mounting pressure, police arrested four persons in connection with the case by Monday. A Special Investigation Team has been formed and further raids are continuing.

Inspector General of Police Kankarprasad Barui assured that every person found involved in the crime would face the maximum punishment under the law. The post-mortem report is awaited to determine the exact cause of death and whether sexual assault took place.

Thousands of people again assembled in Surjyapur on Monday, demanding a fair, transparent and time-bound investigation. Although road blockades had ended by Tuesday, the protests had not. Many villagers said they would continue demonstrating until they were convinced the investigation was moving in the right direction.

The incident has also snowballed into a political flashpoint.

CPI(M) leader Md. Lahek Ali visited the victim’s family and joined protests on both Sunday and Monday. Indian Secular Front (ISF) MLA Nawsad Siddique was prevented by security personnel from meeting the bereaved family.

Meanwhile, heavy deployment of police and Central Armed Police Forces outside former Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee’s Kalighat residence on Sunday night triggered a separate political controversy. The Trinamool Congress alleged the security arrangement amounted to “house arrest” and was intended to prevent her from travelling to Surjyapur. On Monday evening, unable to visit the village, she led a candlelight march in Kolkata condemning the killing and demanding justice for the child.

Back in Surjyapur, however, politics appears secondary to the pain etched on every face.

The pond where the body was found has become a grim reminder of a tragedy the village cannot forget. Outside the victim’s home, neighbours continue to arrive quietly, offering condolences to a family struggling to comprehend its loss.

For the people here, the story is no longer only about a child who left home to buy a birthday gift and never returned. It is about whether a village’s cries for justice will continue to be heard after television cameras leave, political leaders move on and public outrage fades.

That question still hangs heavily over Surjyapur.

Antara is a freelance independent journalist based in Kolkata, West Bengal. She reports on climate change, environmental issues, human rights, and crime, with a focus on stories that highlight marginalised voices and public interest. She holds a Bachelor’s (Honours) degree in Philosophy from the University of Calcutta.

Courtesy: The Enewsroom

The post Just 11, Her Last Birthday Gift: Inside Surjyapur’s Fight for Justice appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Released by the Washington D.C.-based Centre for the Study of Organized Hate (CSOH), the report, Profiting from Hate Music, examines what researchers describe as the rapidly expanding ecosystem of Hindutva pop music, or “H-Pop”—a genre that combines devotional, nationalist and popular musical styles with rhetoric targeting Muslims and Christians. According to the report, this music is no longer confined to fringe corners of the internet. Instead, it is thriving across some of the world’s largest technology platforms, generating millions of views, streams and shares while simultaneously producing revenue for creators and, indirectly, the platforms themselves.

Authored by journalist Kunal Purohit, whose book H-Pop: The Secretive World of Hindutva Pop Stars further documented the rise of the genre, along with CSOH researchers Tavishi and Hamaad Meer, the report presents itself as the first comprehensive effort to map the scale, reach and monetisation of hate music in India. Supported through a grant from the Human Rights Foundation, the study argues that major technology companies are not merely hosting such content but are enabling its amplification and profitability despite maintaining public policies against hate speech and incitement.

At the heart of the report lies a stark claim: online platforms have become critical infrastructure for the production, dissemination and monetisation of music that allegedly promotes hatred, dehumanisation and violence against religious minorities.

Over a year before Kunal Purohit’s H-Pop… was released on November 22, 2023, on October 10, 2022 Citizens for Justice and Peace was among the first to conduct its own investigation into YouTube and other platform’s promotion of hate lyrics. Hate through music, lyrics and visuals: Hindutva pop. CJP’s The online eco-system hosts a plethora of videos peddling hate may be read here. Four months before that, in June 2022, Caravan had also done its own investigation into Hindutva’s hate music: Hindu Rashtra OST authored by Samriddhi Sakuniya that can be read here. The CSOH’s recent report is then a logical, research driven extension to earlier work done that exposed this further capture of ‘culture’ by the majoritarian far right.

From white supremacist rock to Hindutva pop

The report situates Hindutva hate music within a broader global history of extremist music cultures. Researchers trace parallels with white power music in Europe and the United States, particularly the rise of white supremacist bands in the 1980s that used music as a vehicle for recruitment, radicalisation and political mobilisation. Similar patterns, the report notes, have emerged in other contexts, including Rwanda and Myanmar, where music was used to reinforce ethnic and religious hostility before or during periods of violence.

According to the authors, Hindutva pop has evolved into a distinctly Indian manifestation of this phenomenon. Unlike conventional devotional music, these songs frequently depict Muslims and Christians as enemies, invaders, traitors or existential threats. The report argues that many songs go beyond ideological messaging and explicitly advocate discrimination, exclusion, boycotts or violence.

The researchers further link the growth of the genre to broader political and social developments in India, including increasing incidents of anti-minority hate speech and communal polarisation. Citing data from India Hate Lab, the report notes that hate speech incidents documented in India increased dramatically in recent years, providing a social and political backdrop against which Hindutva music has flourished.

Importantly, the report does not portray these songs as isolated cultural products. Rather, it argues that they form part of a larger ecosystem in which music is used during religious processions, political gatherings, social media campaigns and community mobilisation efforts. Several incidents of communal tension and violence, the report notes, have involved processions playing songs containing anti-Muslim themes or violent rhetoric.

Building a database of hate music

One of the report’s most significant contributions is methodological. Rather than relying on anecdotal examples, the researchers spent a year building what they describe as a comprehensive database of Hindutva hate music across multiple platforms.

The study examined four major platforms: YouTube, Spotify, Apple Music and Meta’s Music Library, which powers audio used in Instagram Reels. Before identifying songs, researchers first analysed each platform’s published policies governing hate speech, incitement to violence and discriminatory content. These policies then became the framework through which songs were assessed.

Data collection occurred between January 2025 and January 2026 and involved multiple research techniques. Researchers conducted keyword searches in English and Hindi, monitored social media accounts of prominent Hindutva influencers, reviewed footage of religious processions and tracked channels and creators repeatedly associated with such music. Songs identified through one platform were subsequently traced across others to determine their broader distribution.

The resulting database contains 523 songs that researchers concluded violated the content policies of at least one platform. These songs were then categorised according to the type of violation involved, including direct incitement to violence, dehumanisation, promotion of supremacist beliefs and other forms of hateful content.

The researchers also tested platform accountability by reporting a sample of songs and tracking platform responses over several months. In addition, they investigated how creators and platforms monetised such content through advertising, subscriptions, and fan funding and other revenue streams.

A vast digital ecosystem

The report’s findings suggest that hate music is not confined to a few isolated uploads but forms a substantial and highly visible digital ecosystem. Across the four platforms studied, researchers identified 523 songs that they argue violate platform policies. Of these, 210 were found on YouTube, 109 on Spotify, 103 within Meta’s Music Library, and 101 on Apple Music.

The scale of engagement documented in the report is striking. The YouTube songs alone accumulated more than 198 million views, while songs available through Meta’s Music Library were used in over 5.9 million Instagram Reels. Researchers argue that the actual audience exposure is likely far greater because each Reel can be viewed, shared and recommended repeatedly through Instagram’s algorithmic systems.

Perhaps most significantly, the report concludes that roughly half of all identified songs contain explicit calls for violence. Researchers found that 263 of the 523 songs directly threatened, encouraged or glorified violence against religious minorities, while the remaining songs primarily relied on dehumanisation, conspiracy theories, derogatory stereotypes and other forms of hateful rhetoric.

According to the report, Muslims were overwhelmingly the primary targets. Many songs promoted familiar Hindu nationalist narratives, including allegations of “love jihad,” demographic replacement theories, claims that Muslims pose an existential threat to Hindu society, and demands that India be transformed into an explicitly Hindu nation.

The researchers argue that these narratives do not merely express political opinions but function as tools of radicalisation. By repeatedly portraying minorities as enemies, traitors or invaders, the music allegedly normalises hostility and creates conditions in which discrimination and violence become easier to justify.

YouTube: The largest hub

Among all platforms studied, YouTube emerged as the most significant repository of Hindutva hate music. The report identified 210 allegedly violative songs uploaded across 100 channels with a combined subscriber base exceeding 76 million. Researchers found that nearly half of these songs contained direct threats or calls for violence against Muslims.

Particularly notable was the concentration of content among a relatively small number of channels. According to the report, three channels alone accounted for more than 40 percent of the identified songs. Despite repeatedly hosting content that researchers argue violates YouTube’s own hate speech policies, these channels allegedly remained active, verified and monetised.

The report further argues that YouTube’s own systems may be helping such content spread. Researchers note that the platform automatically generates videos for music tracks even when creators do not upload visual content, thereby ensuring additional visibility for songs distributed through music services.

Spotify, Meta and Apple: A pattern across platforms

While YouTube accounted for the largest number of allegedly violative songs, the report argues that the problem extends well beyond video-sharing platforms. Researchers found what they describe as a consistent pattern across Spotify, Meta’s Music Library and Apple Music, with songs containing anti-Muslim hate speech, conspiracy theories and incitement to violence remaining available despite each platform maintaining policies that prohibit such content.

The report argues that this demonstrates a systemic moderation failure rather than isolated lapses in enforcement. Although each platform adopts different approaches to content moderation and community standards, the researchers contend that all four companies continue to host content that appears to violate their own published rules.

Spotify: Hate music available beside mainstream artists

Spotify, the world’s largest music streaming platform, hosts 109 songs that the report argues violate its Platform Rules. Researchers found that 51 of these songs explicitly praise or encourage violence against Muslims, while 44 others promote hatred, dehumanisation or harmful stereotypes directed at the community.

According to the report, Spotify’s own rules prohibit content that promotes hatred or violence against protected groups based on characteristics including religion. Yet researchers argue that songs encouraging violence against Muslims, promoting the “love jihad” conspiracy theory, or portraying religious minorities as enemies of the nation remained easily accessible through ordinary searches.

The report also highlights Spotify’s recommendation architecture. Unlike traditional music stores where users actively purchase specific tracks, streaming services recommend songs, playlists and artists based on listening behaviour. Researchers argue that this recommendation system can inadvertently increase the reach of extremist content once a listener engages with similar material.

Another concern identified is the coexistence of such songs alongside mainstream music. The report argues that users do not encounter these tracks in isolated corners of the platform; instead, they exist within the same searchable ecosystem as Bollywood music, devotional songs and popular commercial artists, making discovery significantly easier.

Instagram Reels and Meta’s Music Library: Turning hate into viral content

Perhaps the report’s most striking findings concern Meta’s Music Library, the catalogue of licensed music available to users creating Instagram Reels. Researchers identified 103 songs within Meta’s music catalogue that they argue violate the company’s Hate Speech Community Standard. Of these, 46 songs actively encourage or incite violence against Muslims, while another 57 use abusive language, slurs or dehumanising rhetoric targeting the community.

What makes Meta’s ecosystem particularly significant, the report argues, is the extraordinary scale of amplification. Rather than simply existing as songs available for listening, these tracks have been incorporated into more than 5.9 million Instagram Reels, transforming music into a reusable soundtrack for millions of user-generated videos.

Researchers contend that every Reel using a hate song effectively creates another distribution channel for the underlying message. Since Instagram’s recommendation algorithm actively promotes short-form videos beyond a creator’s followers, songs embedded in viral Reels can rapidly reach audiences far larger than those who might deliberately search for the original track.

The report provides numerous examples illustrating this phenomenon. One of the most widely circulated songs documented is “Bharat Ka Bacha Bacha Jai Shri Ram Bolega.” According to the report, the song had already been used in over 730,000 Instagram Reels. Researchers note that some individual Reels featuring the song accumulated millions of views, vastly exceeding the reach of the original audio itself. One Reel showing a DJ performing the song before a large public audience reportedly received over 5.7 million views and hundreds of thousands of likes.

Similarly, the song “Gau Mata“, which the report says contains anti-Muslim slurs and threats of violence, had been used in more than 40,000 Instagram Reels. Researchers observed that many of these videos were posted by self-described cow vigilante groups or supporters, often depicting vehicle chases, confrontations or assaults involving alleged cattle transporters while the song played in the background.

Another frequently used track, “Bhagwa Se Dar Lagta Hai Toh Bharat Chod Do,” had reportedly been used in over 104,000 Reels by May 2026. The report documents examples where the song accompanied videos of Ram Navami processions, saffron flag displays and other communal imagery, with individual Reels reaching hundreds of thousands of viewers.

The report argues that Meta’s music catalogue effectively allows hateful audio to be endlessly repurposed, giving songs an afterlife far beyond their original release.

Apple Music: Minimal hate speech standards

Among the four platforms examined, researchers identify Apple Music as having the least detailed public standards specifically addressing hate speech. Unlike YouTube, Meta and Spotify, Apple does not publish an extensive standalone hate speech policy governing music content. Instead, the company requires artists to comply with local laws, cultural sensitivities and general standards of appropriateness.

Applying Indian legal standards as well as the report’s analytical framework, researchers identified 101 songs on Apple Music that they argue should not remain available. Several songs promote the discredited conspiracy theory of “love jihad,” alleging that Muslim men systematically target Hindu women for religious conversion. The report notes that the Government of India itself informed Parliament in 2020 that the term has no legal basis, yet multiple songs continue to invoke it as an established fact while encouraging hostility against Muslims.

Researchers also criticise Apple’s moderation of album artwork. According to the report, several songs employ imagery that reinforces anti-Muslim narratives, including depictions of veiled Muslim women intended to portray interfaith relationships or Islamic identity as inherently threatening.

The report argues that visual imagery, combined with inflammatory lyrics, contributes to a broader ecosystem of communal propaganda rather than functioning merely as artistic expression.

Violence is not an exception—it is a central theme

One of the report’s most significant conclusion concerns the nature of the content itself. Researchers argue that violent rhetoric is not confined to a handful of fringe songs but constitutes one of the defining characteristics of the Hindutva pop ecosystem.

Across platforms, they found:

• 104 YouTube songs containing explicit violent themes targeting minorities;
• 51 Spotify songs praising or encouraging violence;
• 46 Meta Music Library tracks directly calling for violence;
• 67 Apple Music songs encouraging or glorifying violence against minorities.

Beyond explicit threats, the report identifies recurring themes that appear repeatedly across hundreds of songs. These include portraying Muslims as traitors or foreign invaders; invoking historical grievances involving Mughal rulers; calling for the demolition of mosques and construction of temples in their place; depicting demographic change as an existential threat; promoting conspiracy theories such as “love jihad” and “Ghazwa-e-Hind”; glorifying cow vigilantism; and encouraging Hindus to prepare for what songs describe as an inevitable religious conflict.

According to the researchers, these recurring narratives collectively create a worldview in which violence against minorities is portrayed not as criminal conduct but as a legitimate form of self-defence or historical justice.

The report therefore argues that the danger lies not only in individual songs but in the cumulative effect of hundreds of tracks repeating similar messages across multiple platforms, reinforcing one another through algorithms, recommendations and user-generated content.

Profiting From Hate: How platforms monetise extremist music

One of the report’s most serious allegations is that technology companies are not merely failing to remove hateful content—they are also profiting from it. The report argues that while companies publicly maintain zero-tolerance policies towards hate speech, many of the creators producing anti-Muslim songs continue to benefit from platform monetisation tools, while the platforms themselves earn advertising and subscription revenue generated by user engagement with this content.

Researchers contend that this creates what they describe as a perverse incentive structure. The more popular a hate song becomes, the more advertisements it attracts, the more revenue it generates for both the creator and the platform, and the more likely platform algorithms are to recommend it to additional users. According to the report, this commercial ecosystem transforms communal hatred into profitable digital content.

YouTube’s monetisation ecosystem

The report identifies YouTube as the platform where monetisation is most visible. Researchers found that many channels repeatedly uploading songs that allegedly violate YouTube’s hate speech policies remain eligible for monetisation through the YouTube Partner Program. This allows creators to earn money from advertisements shown before or during videos, while also accessing features such as Super Thanks, Super Chats, Channel Memberships and paid subscriptions.

The report notes that the 210 songs identified on YouTube had collectively amassed approximately 198 million views, generating substantial audience engagement through more than 3.1 million likes across roughly 100 channels with a combined subscriber base exceeding 76 million subscribers. Researchers argue that these figures indicate that Hindutva hate music is not a niche phenomenon but a commercially successful content category operating within YouTube’s broader creator economy.

The report also raises concerns about YouTube’s own automated systems. Even where artists did not upload music videos themselves, YouTube automatically generated videos—known as “Art Tracks”—using album artwork and audio files. According to the researchers, this meant that hateful songs could continue circulating on YouTube even without dedicated video production, further expanding their visibility through YouTube Music integration and algorithmic recommendations. Researchers argue that these automated uploads demonstrate how platform infrastructure itself can contribute to the dissemination of harmful content.

Brand advertising beside hate content

One of the most troubling commercial finding concerns advertising. The report states that advertisements from internationally recognised companies appeared before or alongside videos containing anti-Muslim hate music.

Researchers documented advertisements from major multinational brands—including technology companies, consumer goods manufacturers and financial services firms—being served on videos that they argue contain hate speech and incitement. The report stresses that there is no suggestion that these companies intentionally chose to advertise on such videos. Rather, advertisements were placed through automated advertising systems that purchase inventory across YouTube. Nevertheless, the report argues that automated advertising effectively channels corporate advertising budgets towards creators producing hateful material. This, researchers contend, raises broader questions about advertiser oversight, brand safety mechanisms and the adequacy of platform controls designed to prevent commercial support for extremist content.

A small network, massive reach

Another important finding is the concentration of influence. Rather than thousands of independent creators, the report identifies a relatively small network of artists and YouTube channels responsible for producing a disproportionately large share of Hindutva hate music.

The researchers profiled dozens of prominent singers and creators who repeatedly produced songs centred on similar themes: portraying Muslims as enemies of the nation, glorifying violence, advocating the demolition of mosques, promoting conspiracy theories such as “love jihad” and “Ghazwa-e-Hind,” and encouraging Hindus to prepare for religious conflict. According to the report, this demonstrates that Hindutva hate music is not a spontaneous or decentralised phenomenon but an identifiable ecosystem with recurring artists, production houses, distribution channels and audiences.

The report argues that because the same creators repeatedly upload allegedly violative content across multiple platforms, enforcement against a relatively limited number of accounts could significantly reduce the overall reach of the ecosystem.

Music and offline communal mobilisation

A recurring theme throughout the report is the relationship between online music and offline communal mobilisation. Researchers emphasise that the songs they identified are not simply consumed privately through headphones. Instead, they frequently accompany religious processions, political rallies, vigilante activities, election campaigns and public demonstrations, giving digital content a tangible presence in physical spaces.

Several songs documented in the report call for the demolition of mosques, the construction of Hindu temples at disputed sites, retaliation for historical grievances associated with Mughal rule, or violent action against individuals portrayed as threatening Hindu society. Others celebrate cow vigilantism or invoke slogans commonly associated with Hindu nationalist mobilisation.

The report argues that when such music becomes embedded within public processions and viral social media videos, it helps normalise hostile narratives against minorities and reinforces communal identities through repetitive cultural messaging.

The Pahalgam attack and the rapid weaponisation of tragedy

The report devotes particular attention to the aftermath of the April 22, 2025 terrorist attack in Pahalgam, in which 26 civilians were killed. According to the researchers, Hindutva pop artists responded with remarkable speed. Within hours and days of the attack, multiple songs were released portraying Indian Muslims collectively as responsible or urging Hindus to unite against an alleged internal enemy.

Five songs released immediately after the attack reportedly accumulated more than 1.1 million YouTube views within a short period. Several rapidly spread to Spotify, Apple Music and Instagram Reels, where users created thousands of videos using the songs as background audio.

The report does not claim a direct causal relationship between these songs and subsequent incidents of communal violence. However, it argues that they contributed to an environment in which anti-Muslim hostility intensified.

Researchers cite monitoring by India Hate Lab, which documented 64 anti-Muslim hate rallies within ten days of the attack and 113 hate speech incidents and hate crimes within approximately three weeks. The report presents this as evidence that online hate music formed part of a broader ecosystem of communal mobilisation during a period of heightened national tension. Detailed report may be read here.

Less than two months after the Pahalgam attack, Citizens for Justice and Peace had mapped the rising hate attacks against Muslims, across five key states. The data based investigation had, on June 19, 2025, published 180 plus attacks with 37 % tied to ‘revenge’ for Pahalgam. CJP’s Mapping Hate: The Pahalgam Attack and its ripple effects may be read here.

Testing the platforms

Beyond documenting content, the researchers also sought to assess whether technology companies acted when alerted. The report explains that researchers formally reported numerous songs through the platforms’ own complaint mechanisms and monitored the outcomes over several months.

According to the report, most of the reported content remained available despite allegedly violating the platforms’ published hate speech policies. Researchers argue that this demonstrates substantial inconsistencies between the companies’ stated rules and their enforcement practices.

The report contends that the persistence of such content, despite repeated reporting, raises broader questions about transparency, accountability and the effectiveness of automated moderation systems, particularly in languages other than English.

Recommendations and a warning for Big Tech

The report concludes with an extensive set of recommendations directed at YouTube, Meta, Spotify and Apple. Among other measures, researchers call on platforms to:

• proactively identify and remove music that promotes hatred or violence against protected groups;
• improve moderation of music and audio content rather than focusing primarily on text and video;
• strengthen moderation capacity in Indian languages;
• ensure that creators repeatedly producing hate content are ineligible for monetisation;
• increase transparency regarding enforcement decisions;
• improve advertiser safeguards so that brands are not inadvertently funding extremist content; and
• invest in specialised moderation teams capable of recognising coded forms of communal hate speech.

Ultimately, Profiting from Hate Music argues that music has become one of the most powerful yet understudied vehicles for spreading communal hatred online. Rather than treating songs as merely another form of entertainment, the authors urge policymakers, researchers and technology companies to recognise them as influential political and cultural artefacts capable of shaping public attitudes at enormous scale. The study significantly expands the conversation around online hate speech in India. It shifts attention beyond viral speeches and inflammatory posts to an ecosystem where melody, repetition and algorithmic amplification intersect—raising difficult questions about the responsibilities of digital platforms when content that allegedly promotes hatred is not only hosted, but also recommended, monetised and transformed into a profitable business model.

The complete report may be read below:

Related:

CJP flags casteist, anti-Dalit videos on YouTube targeting CJI Gavai; seeks urgent takedown

Central Government silent over the number of YouTube channels blocked in last 5 years; dismisses concern about press freedom and internet shutdowns

YouTube allows content containing false and incendiary information about India’s elections: report

From Outrage to Acquittal: The Raja Singh hate speech case comes to a close

The Supreme Court blinks when it comes to Hate Speech

CJP files complaint against BJP MLA & Minister Nitesh Rane and right-wing leaders over alleged hate speeches in Maharashtra and West Bengal

The post How big tech is profiting from Hindutva hate music appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Within just four days of the commencement of SIR (SIR commenced on June 30, 2026), two BLOs have died in Karnataka. Another person collapsed due to severe stress and has been admitted to hospital.

In addition, as newspapers reported on July 6, yesterday, senior officials ‘have threatened BLOs with disciplinary action’, including removal from their jobs, if they fail to complete the distribution of forms today itself. This has created even more dangerous pressure on them. It is certain to have even more fatal consequences in the coming days.

Furthermore, voters across the state are facing numerous difficulties while filling out the Enumeration Form and are experiencing immense anxiety. In what is described as a simple process, election officials are failing to provide proper answers even to simple questions, thereby further increasing public anxiety.

It is only natural that this anxiety among the people will increase further after the publication of the draft roll-on August 5. During that period, the state is likely to witness even greater chaos and helpless anxiety among the people.

Therefore, conscious sections of society must remain alert, understand the causes behind all these tragedies, and stand against the danger.

In this context, it is necessary to understand the real reasons behind the inhuman pressures being created by the Commission.

What is causing the deaths of BLOs and the anxiety among voters?

In Karnataka, the process of distributing and collecting Enumeration Forms, which began on June 30, must be completed and digitised by July 29—that is, within one month. This is because the Election Commission (ECI) has, without any rational basis, imposed an unscientific and undemocratic deadline requiring the entire SIR process to be completed by October 2026—that is, within a total period of three months. It is this deadline that is creating enormous pressure on both BLOs and voters. This, when elections to the State Assembly are due only in mid-2028, that is at least 18 months after October 2026. Why then the unholy hurry?

What is the urgency behind the cut-off date of October 2026?

The ECI itself admits that the previous SIR in 2002 was carried out gradually over a period of one-and-a-half years.

The real motive and intention of the Commission and the ruling BJP regime is to complete SIR in 31 states across the country by December 2026, before the Census begins in February 2027. That is why this unscientific deadline has been imposed.

What is the connection between the Census and the SIR?

A Census is generally conducted to enumerate/count the population of the country. However, the Modi government –which heads an ideological majoritarian state– had intended to use the 2020 Census to verify people’s citizenship and to strip communities it did not want of their citizenship.

That is why the CAA was enacted in 2019.

For the 2020–21 Census, questionnaires had been prepared for creating the NPR (National Population Register) by asking people for ‘proof of citizenship.’

The plan was then to separate those who could prove their citizenship and prepare the NRC (National Register of Citizens). Those who could not provide proof of citizenship were to be excluded from the NRC, placed on a list of ‘suspected foreigners’, and subjected to processes aimed at deporting them from the country. Or else…

However, this could not be implemented because of a massive public outcry and sustained public protests. The Census itself was not conducted in 2020–21 because of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now, the Census is set to begin again in February 2027. (The house-listing exercise will be completed in 2026.) While only ₹3,000 crore was allocated for the Census in the 2025 Budget, ₹6,000 crore has been allocated in the 2026 Budget for conducting the NPR alongside the Census. Reported Moneycontrol.

This only means one thing: that the Modi government is now moving ahead to complete, during this Census, what it could not accomplish in 2019.

It is possible to carry out the NRC through the Census process itself. But instead of conducting the NRC directly, the same questions are now being asked through SIR, thereby completing the groundwork for the NRC.

Isn’t the SIR just a Voter Verification process?

No. The lawyers for the Election Commission in the proceedings contesting the controversial SIR before the Supreme Court have made it clear that SIR is being conducted to examine citizenship and not merely to revise electoral rolls:

“Revision of electoral rolls had been done earlier on the basis of self-declaration of citizenship. This [SIR 2025] we found was an opportune time to take note of this statutory amendment of 2003 and examine citizenship for the purpose of preparing the electoral roll.” – the Hindu

Understand the Chronology

First, SIR.
Then, the Census.
Alongside it, the NPR.
Immediately after that, the NRC.

Therefore, SIR is being rushed through in order to prepare lists of citizens and non-citizens required for the NPR, which is to be conducted alongside the 2027 Census, and for the NRC that is to follow.

This is the only reason why the present SIR enumeration process is being hurriedly completed within a three-month period even in states such as Karnataka, where elections are not currently due. SIR has to be completed across the country before the 2027 Census.

This is precisely why Chief Electoral Officers are pressuring BLOs to distribute, collect, and digitise SIR forms within one month.

Without providing proper and comprehensive training or the necessary time, BLOs are being threatened with various disciplinary measures if they fail to meet the targets within the prescribed period. That is why, as has happened in other states, a series of deaths among BLOs has now begun in Karnataka as well, with BLOs unable to withstand the pressure.

Although the SIR enumeration questionnaire may appear simple at first glance, it has created considerable confusion. It has been designed by officials who have little understanding of the lives and awareness levels of ordinary people, in order to serve the needs of their political masters.

People unfamiliar with the language of administration are filling out the forms in ways they understand and are consequently getting into difficulties. Here too, instead of creating awareness and collecting the forms patiently, the rushed process is causing anxiety among the people.

Following this difficult, non-transparent and unfriendly process, ‘the draft roll’ will be published on August 5. Those whose names are missing as well as those who receive notices because the information they have provided ‘fails to satisfy 12 categories of logical consistency checks’, (Logical Discrepancy), will thereafter get only one month to get their names re-inserted in the roll.

If they fail to provide documents that satisfy the administration within one month, they will be excluded from the roll.

This will then create even greater chaos and anxiety and may have fatal consequences for voters.

This then is the real reason behind the brutal administrative push to complete SIR before the Census begins.

This is the real reason. The only real reason

SIR is being conducted in order to unconstitutionally implement the BJP government’s politically malicious intentions and Hindutva’s agenda. To implement an untested, contested NRC through the backdoor.

To implement this plan of action (POA) aggressively, the Election Commission—acting as a puppet of the BJP—has devised extremely unscientific SIR criteria, impossible deadlines, an undemocratic process, and an anti-people questionnaire.

This is the cause of the deaths of BLOs, voters’ anxiety, and the developing anarchy.

There is only one solution:

Scrap The Unconstitutional SIR.
Let voter-roll revision be carried out patiently and in a people-friendly manner.
Let’s Act to save democracy.

[1] The National Population Register (NPR) is a comprehensive database of all ‘usual residents in India’, recording both citizens and foreign nationals.

[2] National Register of Citizens (NRC) was a requirement inserted by the 2003 Rules to the Indian Citizenship Act (CA) of 1955. In 2019-2020 the amendment to the CAA drew huge protests, delaying the process of excluding ‘undocumented’ Indians into a list of ‘suspected foreigners’

Related:

SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the very Idea of India?

Karnataka launches SIR with 5.5 crore voters, State Govt voices transparency concerns

Karnataka’s new PRC rules are people-friendly, but will the ECI accept them?

To Karnataka’s Anti-SIR Movement: A note of caution and concern

Anti-SIR Activists Beware: A mere Residential Certificate does not satisfy SIR requirements

The post SIR 2025-2026: A backdoor exercise to bring in the NRC? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This exercise—despite robust contestation –has been unfortunately endorsed by the Supreme Court of India. Despite being conducted with unaccountability to well established law and procedure, in haste and utter opacity that has already ensured the disenfranchisement of millions of Indians from the constitutional right to vote.

Delivering the P.V. Narasimha Rao Memorial Lecture 2026 at the Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University recently, Prabhakar elaborated on a theme that he has been de-constructing for close to a year.

Sabrangindia is publishing this lecture, in two parts, today and tomorrow.

If I were to ever consider myself privileged, blessed, and fortunate I will do so only for one reason: that is, I have known Sri PV Narasimha Rao personally.

Although I have known him since my childhood, it was mainly during my days in Delhi for my university education that I met him and came to know of him much more. I conversed with him, argued with him, learnt from him, sat in silence with him, ate with him, travelled with him, even played badminton with him.

This was an unearned privilege. I did not do anything to deserve it. I simply happened to be the son of his political colleague and friend. That privilege gave me an opportunity to watch one of the greatest personalities of modern India, close-up.

Delivering the PV Narasimha Rao Memorial lecture, therefore, is a very poignant occasion for me.

I express my gratitude to Professor Ghanta Chakrapani, his colleagues, and everyone in this great University associated with organising today’s lecture.

Alarm Bells

I would begin by sounding alarm bells.

We might not be able to hold this kind of gatherings freely in the coming days. You might have to check with the powers that be whether you could invite a particular speaker, whether the speaker could speak on a particular subject. You might even be asked to submit the text of the speaker’s address in advance for them to decide whether the speaker should be allowed to air this or that point of view. You might have to cancel speaking invitations – sometimes, even at the last-minute. To avoid all such chaos and loss of face, sooner than later, you might volunteer to abandon all such discourses.

This is a strong probability now. It is staring in our face. Have no illusions.

This year on the August 15, 2026 there is a good chance that our beloved Tricolour would be hoisted on the Red Fort. Whether it would fly there on the next Independence Day, I am not sure of. It is not difficult for you to guess which could be the flag to take the tricolour’s place.

Recently, the Union government has issued a circular. It is now mandatory that all the six stanzas of Vande Mataram are sung at all Union Government’s official gatherings and functions. The circular also laid down that Vande Mataram had to be sung before the National Anthem, Jana Gana Mana. Not before long, excuses would be made to dispense with Jana Gana Mana. They would say since they are running out of time and as they have already sung Vande Mataram, they might skip Jana Gana Mana. That excuse might sound innocuous. But that excuse would only be a transitory one, until Jana Gana Mana disappears. And then would follow an official decision to do away with Jana Gana Mana.

People who have keenly followed the recent 10-hour marathon discussion in our Lok Sabha on Vande Mataram cannot escape this fear.

The Union Government has recently constituted a High-Level Committee on Demographic Changes (HLCDC). The Terms of Reference of the Committee repeatedly mention ‘illegal immigration’ as one of the justifications for constituting the Committee. That makes obvious the government’s intention of branding certain communities as unwanted residents of this country.

Now, I have got these anxieties off my chest.

Marketing SIR: Effort to Clean Up Electoral Rolls?

I will now use the remaining part of the time given to me to speak about the currently ongoing massive exercise to revise Electoral Rolls in our country. It is called Special Intensive Revision (SIR). I would dwell on what it would mean to our cherished idea of India as a secular democracy and to our Republic that is committed to deliver justice, liberty, equality and fraternity to the people of this land. A staunch champion of these ideals was Babasaheb Ambedkar, after whom this great institution is named.

SIR is presented to the people as an attempt to clean up the electoral rolls. The Election Commission of India (ECI) marketed it as an exercise meant to delete the names of Absent, Shifted, Dead, Duplicate (ASDD) voters from the rolls. It is also marketed as a measure to detect and delete foreigners from the voters’ lists.

If our electoral rolls had unacceptable number of such ASDD voters and foreigners in them, our previous elections and the mandates they produced, by implication, are rendered questionable. The successive Lok Sabhas and state assemblies – even the mandates of 2014, 2019 and 2024 as well as the governments those mandates produced – in effect, have to be treated as lacking in legitimacy. If that is the implication of the ECI’s claim of impure electoral rolls, then our democracy is and has been in grave jeopardy.

The present ECI, wittingly or unwittingly, is levelling a serious allegation against all the previous ECIs. As a consequence, it also makes the legitimacy of earlier mandates too questionable.

But as I would try to show here, the ECI’s claims about ‘impure’ electoral rolls and stated purpose of carrying out SIR lack conviction. The present ECI’s intent behind conducting SIR is dubious. It leads one to suspect that SIR is not an exercise to weed out ASDD voters but it is a part of the larger project to transform the nature and composition of the country’s political society.

Before I explore the nature of this project, I would like to dwell on the opacity of the ECI and the glaring irregularities that render the intent behind the SIR exercise, suspect.

SIR has to be evaluated against the justifications offered by the ECI. These justifications are:

1) Time Lapse: This is the primary justification. The ECI argued that more than 20 years have elapsed between the last Intensive Revision and now.

2) Demographic Shifts: Large scale urbanisation, large scale migration, and population changes resulted in demographic shifts and necessitated a comprehensive house-to-house clean-up.

3) Database Errors: the ECI had said that the Revision was intended to purge duplicate entries, ghost voters, unreported deaths and unverified entries from the voters’ lists.

These stated objectives are noble. I don’t think anyone in this room disagrees with these objectives. We all want our voter lists to be clean, free from errors. We do not want dead peoples’ names in the electoral rolls, we want duplicate names eliminated, unverified names deleted, and ghost voters removed.

We have a process called Special Summary Revision (SSR). This summary revision is carried out every year. It eliminates dead, shifted and absent voters. It includes persons who attained the voting age at that time and also adds who came into that area after the last such revision had happened.

ECI’s Opacity

After the 2024 General Elections SSR (Special Summary Revision) has taken place. Then on what basis did the ECI come to the conclusion that it should undertake (yet another) an intensive revision? In its affidavit to the Supreme Court of India (SC), responding to petitions that were filed challenging the constitutional validity of SIR, the ECI said an independent appraisal had found that there were errors in the electoral rolls after SSR.

When information about the ‘independent appraisal’ was sought under the Right to Information (RTI) Act, the ECI did not reveal any details. Until we started the meeting here, the ECI did not say who did the appraisal, what were its recommendations. It still refuses to put the report of that independent appraisal in public domain. No one has seen it.

The ECI has admitted on record in response to an RTI query that it had no record of why or how the SIR was initiated.

To another RTI query seeking “reference number of all files in which decision to initiate a Special Intensive Revision (SIR) across the country in 2025…” is to be found, Mr T.C. Kom, Principal Secretary of the ECI said, “…the requisite information is not available…in any material form.” He said that because the “…RTI Act mandated to disclose information which is available…in material form only” and since information on how the decision was taken on the SIR roll out was not available in ‘material form’, there was nothing for him to disclose.

The question that arises is: why is the decision to conduct SIR taken in secrecy and why are there no records in material form of files and correspondence in the Commission, if the intentions behind SIR are bona fide? Is this not opaque and highly suspect?

Suspicions and apprehensions about SIR are heightened after its completion in Bihar, followed by nine other states and three Union Territories. These states include West Bengal, Tamil Nadu, Pondicherry, Kerala, Gujarat, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan.

In Bihar about 80 lakh names were eliminated from the voters’ list and about 21 lakh voters were added. Over 2.04 crore voters were removed from UP’s electoral rolls, and 84 lakh new voters were added. The story is similar in every state. Deletions ranged between 24 lakhs in Kerala and 97 lakhs in Tamil Nadu, and over 2 crores in Uttar Pradesh.

The SIR deletions fail the demographic test. In all these states, the number of voters after the final revised electoral roll falls short of the size of the adult population in those states. Since ours is a democracy based on universal adult franchise, the number of voters should be equivalent to the adult population in a state. If a state’s adult population is 100, the number of voters in that state ought to be 100, ideally. If it is 99 or 101, one can accommodate that number. But it is unacceptable to have 70 or 130 voters in the final revised list. In UP, the final number of voters after SIR falls short of the state’s adult population by 2.83 crores. In Bihar, the figure is about 80 lakhs.

What accounts for this short fall? The ECI does not tell us.

Among the deleted, voters belonging to Minorities, Dalit and Adivasi communities, daily wage earners, poor and illiterate persons are disproportionately high in number. Among these sections, women constitute a substantial portion. Studies have established that SIR adversely impacted women’s potential political participation in our polity. Many among these are unlikely to know that they were disenfranchised. Even if they know they are too weak and incapable to make their protesting voices heard.

Was There an SIR Before?

The ECI claimed that SIR was done once before too, in the year 2002. I would like to ask those who are here today and who were voters in 2002 a question. Does anybody here recall having gone to any government official to prove you were eligible to be a voter? I was a voter in 2002. I never went to anybody carrying a bundle of documents to establish that I was eligible to be a voter. When I asked this question in different gatherings that I addressed in different parts of the country, so far not a single person said they had to prove their eligibility.

Therefore, the revision that happened in 2002 was entirely different from what is going on now in the name of SIR. The ECI is misleading the country.

When activists wanted to know what the 2002 revision’s guidelines were so that they could compare them with the present revision’s guidelines, they sought the information under RTI. The ECI said that they had no copy of the 2002 guidelines, and they were not obliged to give documents from over 20 years ago under the RTI rules. This again is far from the truth and reveals the opacity of the ECI.

There is one more misleading information from the ECI. The exercise conducted in 2002 was called Special Revision of an intensive nature. It was not Special Intensive Revision. It required the ECI to do the revision transparently by vetting the revisions against the then existing ‘mother list’. Those 2002 guidelines mandated that the exercise be carried out openly in Gram Sabhas and Ward Committee meetings.

Arbitrary revisions had no room in the 2002 revision.

Why is the ECI misinforming the country about the 2002 revision exercise?

SIR: Marketing vs Reality

From several investigative studies it has now come to light that many who were listed as dead are actually alive. Some of them were presented to the Supreme Court. The Hindu, a newspaper known for its diligent reporting, carried out a study in Tamil Nadu which found that the age of those listed as dead did not conform to the mortality trends in the official data on the basis of their age. The numbers defied the overall trend. In Bengal many deleted voters listed as dead and absent thronged the local government offices that were involved in SIR exercise.

In Bihar, the electoral roll that was supposed to have been cleaned up had 1.32 crore fake addresses. In Barachatti assembly constituency of the state 877 voters were shown as residing in one address in a village. In Pipra constituency’s Galimpur village 509 voters were registered in one address. The address was not just wrong. It does not exist. There are several such examples from the state. In all the 243 constituencies, 14.35 lakh duplicate voters were found by investigative journalists.

Weeding out of infiltrators or foreigners also turns out to be a phony claim. In Bihar the total number of objections raised on the basis of being foreigners were 1087. Out of which only 390 were found to be in order and accepted for verification. Of them only 76 were Muslims. And of them, 10 were in Seemanchal region. Of these 10 from Seemanchal, only five were Muslims. Of those five, 2 were dead. Finally, only 3 were identified as foreigners. But the viral propaganda in the social media continues to show that thousands of infiltrators have been detected and deleted and are now running away from the country in droves.

If weeding out foreigners and non-citizens was one of the primary concerns of SIR as claimed by the ECI, the most eligible candidate state for conducting the exercise ought to be Assam. If there was ever a state in the Indian Union where citizenship became the most contested issue, it was Assam. But it is ironic that the ECI decided to do only a Special Revision (SR) in the state, and not SIR. The total number of voters who were put in the doubtful category – the ‘D’ category – in the state during the NRC exercise was 19 lakhs. Of which 12 lakhs are Hindus and 7 lakhs are Muslims.

This data makes the ECI vulnerable to the charge that it did not conduct SIR in Assam to avoid because pronouncing 7 lakh Muslims ineligible for voting will requires it to pronouncing 12 lakh Hindus also ineligible for voting. After the SR in Assam, the total deletions amounted to under 3 lakhs. This figure is in stark contrast to the tens of lakhs of voter deletions in other states. In Assam, the officials went from house to house to update electoral rolls. The burden of enrolling was not put on the people there. That is not the case with the rest of the country. Why?

Despite clear evidence to the contrary, the narrative propagated by the ECI and the present ruling dispensation that SIR is meant only to clean up voters’ lists still has takers. Many do believe it.

Note: To be followed by Part 2: Disenfranchisement is the route Majoritarian Rule: The Political Logic of SIR examines how large-scale voter deletions could fundamentally reshape India’s political system.

Related:

21 Opposition parties to CJI: SIR process is irregular and illegal, must be suspended

SIR and the Making of a Stateless Citizen? | R. Rajagopal Speaks Out | Teesta Setalvad

Karnataka launches SIR with 5.5 crore voters, State Govt voices transparency concerns

The post SIR 2025-26: Dismantling the very Idea of India? appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The story of Punjab ’95—eventually released on ZEE5 as Satluj—has now become far larger than the film itself. It has evolved into one of the most significant contemporary debates on censorship, artistic freedom and the State’s uneasy relationship with politically sensitive histories. At its centre, lies a profound constitutional question: Can a democracy allow uncomfortable truths to be told through cinema, particularly when those truths concern allegations of abuse by State institutions?

The controversy surrounding Satluj is not simply about certification by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), nor is it confined to questions of film regulation. It raises broader concerns about whether politically inconvenient narratives can find space in India’s public sphere at all. Over the course of three years, the film encountered repeated delays, demands for sweeping edits, multiple title changes, withdrawal from an international film festival, abandonment of its theatrical release, and finally, removal from an OTT platform within days of release. Each development added another layer to an increasingly troubling narrative about the shrinking space available for artistic engagement with contentious political history.

Ironically, the film itself tells the story of a man who dedicated his life to uncovering suppressed truths. That parallel has not gone unnoticed. Following the film’s removal from ZEE5, lead actor Diljit Dosanjh shared a still from the film on Instagram with a pointed message in Punjabi: “The same thing that happened to Satluj also happened to Shaheed Jaswant Singh Khalra.” Accompanied by the caption “I challenge the darkness,” the post transformed the controversy from a dispute over streaming rights into a larger commentary on memory, erasure and the continuing discomfort surrounding Khalra’s legacy. As reported by Hindustan Times, this marked Dosanjh’s first public response after the film’s abrupt removal, directly drawing a connection between the silencing of Khalra’s work in 1995 and what he perceived as the silencing of the film today. That comparison goes to the heart of why Satluj has generated such intense public debate.

Unlike fictional political dramas, Satluj is rooted in the life of a real human rights defender whose investigations forced India to confront one of the darkest chapters of Punjab’s insurgency years.

The story the film sought to tell

Originally conceived under the title Ghallughara, later renamed Punjab ’95, and finally released as Satluj, the film chronicles the life of Jaswant Singh Khalra, the Punjab-based human rights activist whose investigations into alleged enforced disappearances and secret cremations during the militancy period fundamentally altered public understanding of State violence in Punjab. Khalra was not a lawyer, journalist or politician.

He was a bank employee who gradually transformed into one of Punjab’s most influential human rights investigators after uncovering records revealing that thousands of unidentified bodies had been secretly cremated by the police without informing families or following legal procedure. By examining cremation registers and municipal records, Khalra alleged that security forces had carried out large-scale illegal cremations of persons who had disappeared during counter-insurgency operations. His work suggested that many of these individuals had never entered the criminal justice system at all.

These revelations that also attracted international attention and intensified demands for accountability during a period when allegations of fake encounters, custodial killings and enforced disappearances had already become the subject of sustained concern among domestic and international human rights organisations. Numerous media reports at the time documented Khalra’s efforts to compile documentary evidence of these alleged abuses and to bring them before judicial institutions and international forums. His investigations, however, came at an enormous personal cost.

[[On the disappearances in Punjab, the same subject that Khalra spent and gave his life working on, the Working Group (of the United Nations) on Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances, established in 1980, reported large numbers of enforced disappearances, attributing primary responsibility to the Punjab police. The Working Group also held that officers of the Punjab police acted with virtual impunity, disobeyed judicial orders, even ignored writs of habeas corpus and intimidated family members of disappeared persons so as to make them refrain from making complaints. The Group’s 1996/97 report also mentioned the disappearance of Jaswant Singh Khalra after he filed the petition regarding illegal cremations in the High Court, alleging that many of the cremated had been arrested by the Punjab police.[1]]]. Read Communalism Combat’s 2003 report on mass crimes violations here and here.

On September 6, 1995, Khalra was abducted outside his residence in Amritsar. According to findings that later emerged through criminal proceedings, he was illegally detained, tortured and murdered. His body was allegedly disposed of in the Harike canal after his killing. Following sustained litigation by his wife, Paramjit Kaur Khalra, the investigation was transferred to the Central Bureau of Investigation by the Supreme Court. Several Punjab Police officials were eventually convicted for Khalra’s abduction and murder, convictions that were later upheld through the judicial process. His death transformed him from a human rights investigator into one of the most enduring symbols of the struggle against impunity in India.

A film that was never intended to be fiction

Unlike many historical dramas that borrow loosely from real events, Punjab ’95 was conceived as a biographical account inspired by Khalra’s life and struggles. Produced by Ronnie Screwvala’s RSVP Movies in collaboration with MacGuffin Pictures and directed by Honey Trehan, the film cast Diljit Dosanjh in what he would later describe as one of the most meaningful roles of his career.

According to both Trehan and Dosanjh, the project was undertaken with the consent and involvement of Khalra’s family. Paramjit Kaur Khalra reportedly viewed the completed film and confirmed that the version eventually released was the same version the family had previously seen, reinforcing the filmmakers’ assertion that they had resisted attempts to dilute the substance of the narrative. As Trehan later told Variety, only the title changed; the filmmakers maintained that the content remained intact despite years of pressure.

Dosanjh repeatedly emphasised that it was Khalra’s sacrifice, rather than commercial considerations, that persuaded him to join the project. Before the OTT release, he described the film as a story of “conviction, courage and humanity” and remarked that opportunities to participate in narratives of such historical significance were rare.

Three years in limbo

Completed several years ago, the film was submitted to the Central Board of Film Certification in 2022 for theatrical release. What followed would become one of the most controversial certification disputes in recent Indian cinema.

According to the filmmakers, the CBFC initially sought an unprecedented 127 cuts, in addition to changes to the title and other modifications before certification could be granted. The scale of the proposed changes was extraordinary, particularly for a film based on documented historical events.

Detailed report may be read here.

The battle over Punjab ’95 did not end with the CBFC’s reported insistence on over a hundred cuts. If anything, that confrontation marked only the beginning of a prolonged struggle that would span multiple years, multiple titles, multiple release plans and multiple forums before culminating in an unprecedented removal from an OTT platform.

For most films, certification is an administrative hurdle preceding release. For Punjab ’95, certification itself became the site of contestation over who gets to narrate history—and under what conditions.

The filmmakers consistently maintained that the film sought neither to sensationalise Punjab’s militancy nor to reopen old political wounds. Rather, they argued that it was an attempt to document the life of a man whose investigations into alleged enforced disappearances had already been acknowledged through judicial proceedings and whose murder had resulted in criminal convictions. Yet despite drawing from documented events, the film remained caught in a prolonged impasse with the certification authorities.

The Changing of Names: From Ghallughara to Punjab ’95 to Satluj

Perhaps no aspect of the film’s journey illustrates the pressures surrounding politically sensitive storytelling more vividly than its repeated changes of title. The project was originally announced under the title Ghallughara, a deeply significant Punjabi word historically associated with the massacres of Sikhs in 1746, 1762 and, in contemporary political discourse, often invoked in relation to the violence of 1984. The title immediately situated the film within a broader historical memory of collective trauma.

However, when the film entered the certification process, the title reportedly became one of the points of objection. According to several media reports, including Times of India, the filmmakers were asked to abandon the original title. The project subsequently became Punjab ’95, directly referencing the year in which Jaswant Singh Khalra was abducted and killed. Even that proved insufficient. After years of delays, the filmmakers were ultimately unable to retain Punjab ’95 either.

When the film finally appeared before audiences in July 2026, it carried an entirely different name—Satluj, named after the river that flows through Punjab. The change was not a creative choice.

Director Honey Trehan candidly acknowledged this reality while speaking to Variety, explaining simply that they could not secure the previous title and therefore the film would release under the name Satluj. The statement itself reflected the unusual circumstances surrounding the production. Rarely does a filmmaker publicly acknowledge that a title central to the identity of a film had to be abandoned not because of artistic reconsideration but because it could not obtain approval.

The film that never reached Toronto

The obstacles facing Punjab ’95 were not confined to India. In September 2023, the film had been selected for a world premiere at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), one of the world’s most important platforms for independent and political cinema. An international premiere would have introduced Khalra’s story to global audiences and placed the film within broader conversations on human rights and transitional justice. That premiere never happened. Just a day before its scheduled screening, the film was withdrawn from the festival.

Although no detailed official explanation was provided, Variety reported that sources attributed the withdrawal to political considerations, while several Indian publications subsequently highlighted the episode as another indication of the extraordinary pressures surrounding the project. The withdrawal immediately attracted attention because it departed from the normal dynamics of international film festivals.

Films are occasionally withdrawn because of production delays, unresolved rights disputes or technical reasons. Here, however, the project had already been completed. The concern centred not on the film’s readiness but on its subject matter. The aborted TIFF premiere therefore became another episode in the film’s increasingly remarkable history—one in which institutional obstacles repeatedly emerged whenever the film appeared close to reaching public audiences.

Abandoning theatres

Following years of uncertainty, repeated certification disputes and prolonged delays, the producers eventually abandoned plans for a theatrical release altogether. This decision itself was significant. Unlike theatrical exhibition, films released directly on OTT platforms generally do not require prior certification under the existing regulatory framework governing streaming services. For many filmmakers working on politically contentious subjects, digital platforms have increasingly been viewed as an alternative avenue for audiences after theatrical certification becomes difficult.

It appeared that Punjab ’95 had finally found that route. Director Honey Trehan repeatedly emphasised that the version eventually released digitally represented the film as originally intended. Paramjit Kaur Khalra, the widow of Jaswant Singh Khalra, reportedly viewed the completed version and confirmed that the film remained unchanged in substance. Trehan similarly stated that the version released on ZEE5 was the same film that had been defended throughout the certification battle.

Diljit Dosanjh echoed those assertions. During interactions with audiences before the release, he stated that if even a single cut had been imposed on the film, he would not have promoted it. According to media reports, he maintained that the film audiences would eventually watch was identical to the version he had seen years earlier.

For the filmmakers, the digital release therefore represented something more than distribution. It represented vindication. After years of negotiations, delays and resistance, the film would finally be seen. Or so it appeared.

When Satluj eventually appeared on ZEE5 on July 3, 2026, there was little of the elaborate publicity normally associated with a major release featuring one of India’s biggest stars. Diljit Dosanjh’s films typically receive extensive promotional campaigns across television, digital media and live events. Yet Satluj arrived with remarkably subdued publicity.

Forty-Eight Hours Later: The film disappears again

If the release of Satluj appeared to mark the end of one of Indian cinema’s longest censorship battles, what followed instead transformed the controversy into something arguably even more troubling. The film became available on ZEE5 on July 3, 2026. Within two days, it was gone.

On July 5, viewers attempting to access the film in India found that it had been removed from the platform. No advance notice had been issued. No detailed explanation accompanied the decision. A film that had survived years of certification disputes, title changes and release delays had once again become inaccessible to Indian audiences. This time, however, the removal did not originate from the Central Board of Film Certification. It came after the film had already been released. That distinction is constitutionally significant.

For decades, debates around censorship in India have centred on the CBFC’s powers before a film reaches theatres. Satluj presents an altogether different phenomenon: a film that was already lawfully available for public viewing disappearing from a digital platform after release, without any publicly available legal order directing its removal.

The episode immediately raised difficult questions about the growing vulnerability of artistic expression in the digital age. If films can be withdrawn after release without transparent legal processes or publicly disclosed reasons, censorship itself begins to move beyond formal statutory mechanisms into a far more opaque domain.

ZEE5’s unusual statement

Soon after the removal, ZEE5 confirmed that Satluj would no longer be available to stream in India. Its statement, however, was remarkable not only for what it said, but also for what it omitted. The platform thanked audiences for the “overwhelming response” received during the brief period the film remained online and declared that it stood firmly behind both the film and its creators.

“At ZEE5, we stand firmly by Satluj and the creative vision behind it. We believe powerful storytelling has the ability to inspire, endure and leave a lasting impact. We remain committed to championing authentic and meaningful narratives.”

The platform further stated: “In light of the current developments, Satluj will be unavailable in India until further notice.”

It assured viewers that it was exploring “every appropriate avenue through due process” to restore the film and reiterated its commitment to artistic integrity and meaningful storytelling. Yet nowhere did the statement explain what those “current developments” were.

Satluj may have paused. But the conversation it started hasn’t.

Thank you for the incredible love.
We hope to bring it back soon.#Satluj pic.twitter.com/Ox3MZIBvlT

— ZEE5Official (@ZEE5India) July 5, 2026

The ambiguity immediately became the central feature of the controversy. Neither the platform nor any government authority publicly disclosed what had changed between July 3, when the film was made available, and July 5, when it became unavailable. For a controversy that had already stretched across three years, the absence of transparency only intensified speculation.

Government sources and the ‘Anti-India’ explanation

Although no formal governmental order directing removal entered the public domain, reports published by NDTV cited official sources claiming that certain portions of the film could be misused by “anti-India forces.” According to those reports, the concern was not merely the subject matter itself but the possibility that specific scenes or narratives could allegedly be exploited by hostile actors. Sources also noted that while OTT platforms are not subject to prior certification requirements comparable to theatrical films, concerns had been raised regarding the content after its release. These reported explanations immediately generated fresh debate.

The phrase “anti-India forces” has increasingly appeared in public discourse surrounding politically sensitive expression. Yet its deployment in relation to a feature film based on documented historical events raised difficult questions.

• What precisely constituted the objectionable material?
• Which portions of the film were considered problematic?
• Did those portions depart from established judicial records?
• Had any competent authority examined whether the film incited violence or hatred?

No detailed answers were forthcoming. Instead, the controversy became characterised by broad assertions about national interest without corresponding public disclosure of the legal or factual basis for restricting access.

Restrictions on freedom of expression under Article 19(2) of the Constitution cannot ordinarily rest upon vague apprehensions alone. They must satisfy recognised constitutional grounds, such as sovereignty and integrity of India, public order, security of the State or incitement to an offence, and must also withstand judicial scrutiny regarding necessity and proportionality. Whether those standards were met in the case of Satluj remains impossible to evaluate because the reasons underlying the film’s removal have never been publicly articulated.

Diljit Dosanjh saw it coming

One of the most striking aspects of the controversy is that the film’s lead actor appeared to anticipate precisely what would happen. During an Instagram Live interaction with viewers shortly after the release, Diljit Dosanjh candidly admitted that he feared the film might not remain available for long.

“Today is Saturday. I feel it could be taken down by Monday. But no worries—you download it.”

The remark, widely reported by Hindustan Times, Times of India and other publications, initially appeared almost humorous. Within hours, it proved prophetic. After the removal, Dosanjh became considerably more direct. Posting a still from the film, he wrote:

“The same thing that happened to Satluj also happened to Shaheed Jaswant Singh Khalra.”

According to Dosanjh, the film recounting that struggle had itself become the subject of suppression. He later remarked that he had repeatedly wondered whether audiences would ever be allowed to watch the film at all, asking publicly: “Can’t we tell our own story?”

Beyond Satluj: What the controversy says about censorship in contemporary India

The removal of Satluj should not be viewed as an isolated controversy involving a single film, a streaming platform or a celebrated actor. Rather, it reflects a much broader transformation in how politically sensitive speech is regulated in India.

Traditionally, censorship in India has been associated with the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). Under the Cinematograph Act, films intended for theatrical release require certification before they can be publicly exhibited. That certification process has always been contentious. Filmmakers have repeatedly criticised the CBFC for functioning not merely as a certifying body but as an authority empowered to determine what citizens should or should not watch.

Over the years, several judicial decisions, including the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, have emphasised that freedom of expression cannot be curtailed merely because a section of society finds a work controversial or offensive. In Rangarajan, the Court famously observed that freedom of expression cannot be suppressed on account of threat of demonstration or violence, warning that doing so would amount to surrendering constitutional freedoms to those willing to intimidate or disrupt public order.

The Court’s reasoning was unequivocal. If a film does not fall within the limited restrictions recognised under Article 19(2) of the Constitution, the State has an obligation to protect its exhibition rather than prohibit it merely because some groups oppose it. That constitutional philosophy appears increasingly difficult to reconcile with the contemporary reality confronting politically sensitive artistic works.

From formal censorship to informal control

The Satluj controversy demonstrates how censorship itself appears to be evolving. The earlier model was comparatively straightforward. A filmmaker submitted a completed work to the CBFC. The Board either certified it, sought modifications or refused certification. Its decisions could then be challenged before appellate authorities and constitutional courts. There existed, at least formally, a transparent statutory process.

The controversy surrounding Satluj suggests something considerably more complex. After years of battling certification, the filmmakers shifted to an OTT platform, where prior certification is generally unnecessary. The assumption was that digital distribution would allow audiences to access the work without navigating the same regulatory obstacles applicable to theatrical releases. Instead, the film disappeared after release, without a publicly available legal order, without any transparent adjudicatory process or without detailed reasons.

That shift is significant because it signals a movement away from formal censorship towards what many scholars describe as informal or indirect censorship—a situation in which legal prohibitions are replaced by institutional pressure, regulatory uncertainty, commercial risk or opaque decision-making.

The consequence may ultimately be the same. The public is denied access to the work. The only difference is that responsibility becomes more difficult to locate. Was the removal voluntary or was it prompted by governmental communication?  Did legal concerns emerge after release or were there political pressures? The public still does not know. In constitutional democracies, opacity itself is a problem. Restrictions upon expression derive legitimacy not merely from statutory authority but from transparency, accountability and the possibility of judicial review. When those elements disappear, censorship becomes considerably more difficult to challenge.

Political sensitivity is not a constitutional ground for censorship

One feature unites many of the most controversial censorship disputes in independent India- they concern politically sensitive history. Films addressing communal violence, caste oppression, insurgency, police excesses, emergency-era abuses or governmental failures have repeatedly encountered resistance from one institution or another.

Yet the Constitution contains no exception permitting censorship merely because a subject is politically uncomfortable. Article 19(1)(a) guarantees every citizen the right to freedom of speech and expression. That freedom is undoubtedly subject to reasonable restrictions under Article 19(2). Those restrictions include sovereignty and integrity of India, security of the State, public order, decency, morality, contempt of court, defamation and incitement to offences.

Notice what does not appear in Article 19(2)- there is no constitutional category called political sensitivity. There is no ground permitting restrictions because historical events remain controversial. Nor does the Constitution authorise suppression because a work may embarrass governments, expose institutional failures or revisit contested episodes of national history. Democracies are expected to accommodate precisely such speech.

Indeed, constitutional protections become most meaningful when they shield expression that unsettles prevailing political narratives. Speech that is universally accepted rarely requires constitutional protection. It is controversial speech, provided it remains within constitutional limits, that tests the strength of democratic institutions.

The chilling effect on political cinema

The implications of the Satluj controversy extend far beyond this single production. Cinema is an extraordinarily resource-intensive medium. A politically sensitive feature film often requires years of research, substantial financial investment and the willingness of producers, distributors and actors to assume considerable commercial risk.

When filmmakers witness a project spending three years in certification disputes, reportedly facing over one hundred proposed cuts, undergoing repeated title changes, losing its theatrical release, withdrawing from an international film festival and finally disappearing from a streaming platform within forty-eight hours, the lesson extends beyond that individual case. The consequence is self-censorship.

Future filmmakers may decide that certain subjects are simply not worth pursuing. Producers may avoid financing projects concerning custodial violence, communal riots, insurgency, enforced disappearances or politically contentious episodes. Streaming platforms may hesitate before acquiring similarly sensitive content. Actors may decline participation. Writers may soften narratives before anyone even asks them to do so. This phenomenon, the suppression of expression not through direct prohibition but through anticipatory fear, is one of the most enduring concerns in free speech jurisprudence.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly recognised that vague or excessive restrictions create a “chilling effect” on expression, discouraging lawful speech because individuals cannot confidently predict where regulatory boundaries actually lie.

Whose history is remembered?

At its core, the controversy surrounding Satluj is ultimately about memory. Jaswant Singh Khalra dedicated his life to documenting disappearances that many families feared would never be officially acknowledged. His investigations attempted to preserve records that otherwise risked disappearing from public consciousness. The film sought to tell that story. Whether audiences agree with every creative choice made by the filmmakers is beside the point.

Democratic societies do not require unanimity regarding historical interpretation. They require the freedom to debate it. Cinema occupies a unique place within that process. Unlike academic writing or judicial decisions, films reach millions who may never otherwise encounter chapters of history.

The journey of Punjab ’95—from Ghallughara, to Punjab ’95, to Satluj—is no longer simply the story of a film. It is the story of the increasingly uncertain space occupied by politically sensitive artistic expression in contemporary India.

A project inspired by the life of a murdered human rights activist reportedly encountered years of certification disputes, demands for extensive alterations, repeated title changes, the cancellation of its international premiere, the abandonment of theatrical release, and finally, its removal from an OTT platform within two days of release. Whether each of those developments arose from formal regulatory decisions, institutional caution or broader political sensitivities, the cumulative effect is unmistakable.

The public conversation has shifted from the content of the film to the conditions under which difficult histories may be narrated at all. That shift should concern anyone committed to constitutional democracy. The measure of a democracy is not how comfortably it accommodates stories that reinforce official narratives. It is how confidently it allows the telling of stories that question power, revisit painful histories and compel institutions to confront uncomfortable truths. The legacy of Jaswant Singh Khalra reminds us that documenting history is often an act of courage. The journey of Satluj suggests that saying that history through cinema may require courage too.

[1] E/CN. 4/1996/38, Commission on Human Rights, Fifty-second session, Report of the Working Group on Enforced on Involuntary Disappearances, paras 236-240; E/CN. 4/1997/34, para 181—from Background Materials by Ram Narayan Kumar for the Conference at Boston in 2003

Related:

Satluj: A film encountered

Kerala’s LDF govt to defy Centre’s diktat, to screen all films as per schedule at IFFK

Erasing Resistance: How the CBFC is censoring films that challenge caste and state power

Fiction as history and history honestly portrayed: a tale of two films and a documentary

Congress Radio, the power of revolutionary change: Lessons from ‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’, the film

The post From Punjab ’95 to Satluj: When cinema becomes a battlefield over history, memory and censorship appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A meeting to commemorate the fifth death anniversary of Father Stan Swamy was held yesterday, Sunday, July 5. Organised by the Bombay Catholic Sabha at the Loyola Hall, it was well attended by close to two hundred Mumbaikars. Invited speakers spoke on the theme “Fr. Stan and his belief in the Constitution”

After a welcome address by Norbert Mendonca, President BCS, Father Luke Rodrigues of the Saint Peters Church initiated the meeting by appealing for efforts to take Father Stan Swamy’s message and sterling work forward amongst the people as the best tribute to Father Swamy and his legacy

Teesta Setalvad, Secretary of Citizens for Peace recounted her Father Stan Swamy’s extensive writings and documentation of the injustices and non-implementation of the laws that accord land rights to Adivasis, in Jharkand and elsewhere. Father Stan Swamy wrote regularly for Sabrangindia and his articles may be read here, here and here. Father Swamy’s biggest strength was his tireless work among Indian Adivasis, especially the indigenous peoples of Jharkand, Setalvad said, urging that his death and the incarceration of dozens of political prisoners whould compel rights groups and citizens to redouble efforts to get the draconian UAPA law, repealed. Read analyses of this law here and here.

Setalvad also detailed how Father Stan was unjustly targeted with the “(im) planting of documents and other evidence” in his computer, facts which came to light in December 2022, ten months after his death through the Arsenal Report that was first published both in The Washington Post and on the NDTV portal. This evidence, she said exposed the work of a malafide state. Campaigns to Repeal the UAPA and to ensure improved Prison Conditions should be the best way to take Father Stan Swamy’s legacy ahead

A message from Father Fraser Mascerenhas was also read out at the event where he emphasised the need to use the occasion of Father Stan Swamy’s death anniversary to renew the commitment for social justice for the disadvantaged and called upon all citizens to honour the Constitution by speaking out against injustice

Irfan Engineer, Director CSSS read out messages of solidarity from both Citizens for Democracy and senior activists Surendra Gadling and Dinkar Gota – who have undertaken a one day fast in memory of Father Stan Swam on July 5. Engineer further highlighted the work of Father Swamy in fighting for the constitutional values of ‘Fraternity & Dignity’ for vulnerable communities especially the Adivasis and defending their collective rights. He also said that Father Swamy made a courageous effort to protect the Adivasis from attempts by unscrupulous MNCs to grab their natural resources

Shakir Shaikh General Secretary, APCR spoke about the need to go to the Common People with Father Stan Swamy’s values and thoughts and the need to help the common citizens in the SIR Process. Advocate Raphael Dsouza, former President of the Bombay Catholic Sabha recounted shameful incidents during the (medical bail hearings that revealed the extent of injustice that Father Swamy was subjected to and how the uncaring process contributed to his death. Well known journalist Anto Akkara who had come from Kochi for the public meeting also spoke on the occasion

Senior advocate Mihir Desai , also national vice president, PUCL strongly asserted that the death of Father Stan Swamy was nothing less than an ‘encounter killing’ because Father Swamy was put in jail knowing well that a) he was innocent and b) Given his fragile health he would not survive the hardships of the incarceration.

Desai also said that the reason the system wanted Father Swamy behind bars was that they did not want representatives from marginalised communities to speak up. He highlighted ongoing efforts to judicially prove Father Swamy’s innocence and establish accountability for his “judicial murder”. He called upon citizens to be bold enough to fight for justice and believe in inherent good nature of humanity for the ‘Truth to Prevail.’

The session was moderated by Dolphy Dsouza, spokesperson of the BCS and closed with a Vote of Thanks by Brian D’souza of the BCS. The public meeting was co-organised by organisations like the Bombay Catholic Sabha (BCS), Centre for Study of Society & Secularism (CSSS), Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), Christian Development Association (CDA), Association for Protection of Civil Rights (APCR), Mumbai for Peace and People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) etc and was well attended by a large crowd of 150+ citizens braving the heavy rains.

Related:

How is it sedition if Adivasi’s choose self-governance through Gram Sabha?

SC bats for Adivasis’ rights over natural resources, Govt disagrees

How PESA, an Act of Parliament is Being Subverted in Jharkand

90% of mining in India is illegal: Deprived of basic rights, tribals treated as untouchables in their lands

Why Adivasis seek to re-assert their traditional identity

The post To a living Saint, now dead five years: Meeting to commemorate July 5 appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In a detailed judgment running over thirty pages, Justice Sachin Datta awarded ₹18.44 lakh as compensation to the father of 19-year-old Deepak, who died while lodged in the lock-up of Police Station Karawal Nagar, Delhi in January 2018.[1] The Court held that once a person’s liberty is curtailed by the State, the constitutional obligation to safeguard that person’s life becomes absolute, and any failure to discharge that obligation amounts to an infringement of the fundamental right guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution.

Far more than an ordinary compensation order, the judgment is an extensive survey of constitutional jurisprudence on custodial deaths. Drawing from landmark Supreme Court authorities including Nilabati Behera v. State of Orissa, D.K. Basu v. State of West Bengal, In Re: Inhuman Conditions in 1382 Prisons, alongside important High Court decisions from Delhi, Bombay, Karnataka, Punjab and Haryana, Allahabad and elsewhere, the Court reiterated that the State cannot evade constitutional responsibility merely because the exact cause of death remains disputed or because officials deny direct involvement.

Most importantly, the Court emphatically rejected the argument that a custodial suicide stands outside State responsibility. It observed that suicide within police custody is itself an unnatural custodial death and reflects a failure of those entrusted with the legal duty of ensuring the prisoner’s safety. Consequently, the State cannot avoid liability by arguing that the deceased took his own life.

The judgment is likely to assume considerable importance in future litigation involving custodial deaths, police accountability and constitutional compensation. Besides strengthening the evolving doctrine of public law compensation under Article 21, it also adopts the multiplier method commonly employed in motor accident compensation cases to determine damages in custodial death claims, thereby providing a more structured framework for assessing compensation in such cases.

The background

The writ petition was filed by Shyam Sundar, who approached the Delhi High Court seeking constitutional compensation following the death of his son Deepak, who died while in police custody at Police Station Karawal Nagar. The petition invoked the extraordinary jurisdiction of the High Court under Article 226, alleging a grave violation of the deceased’s fundamental right to life.

The events giving rise to the petition began on January 15, 2018, when Deepak was arrested at approximately 11:10 a.m. from the premises of Karkardooma Courts by Sub-Inspector Sandeep in connection with FIR No. 334 of 2017 registered at Police Station Karawal Nagar. According to the petitioner, after learning of his son’s arrest, he visited the police station to meet him. Instead of being allowed to meet his son, he himself was allegedly detained and confined inside the lock-up alongside Deepak for several hours. He was released only around 5:30 p.m. that evening.

The father’s account, recorded in the judgment, paints a disturbing picture of what allegedly transpired inside the police station. He alleged that both he and his son were subjected to physical assault, intimidation and abuse by police officials, specifically naming Sub-Inspector Sandeep and Constable Karamveer Singh. According to the petition, the officers allegedly demanded ₹20,000 to ₹30,000 in exchange for securing Deepak’s release.

The allegations did not end there. Later that same night, the father allegedly received a telephone call from Sub-Inspector Sandeep seeking further particulars regarding Deepak. During that conversation, according to the petitioner, the demand for money was reiterated. Being a person of limited financial means, the father informed the officer that he was incapable of arranging such an amount.

The following morning, believing that his son would be produced before a magistrate, the father contacted the police station. He was initially informed that Deepak had indeed been produced before the court.

Shortly thereafter, however, the situation took a devastating turn. The petitioner received a phone call from a local political leader informing him that Deepak had allegedly committed suicide while in police custody. By 11:56 a.m. on 16 January 2018, Deepak had been declared “brought dead” at Guru Tegh Bahadur Hospital.

The police thereafter sought a magisterial inquiry into the custodial death. Interestingly, as recorded in the judgment, the very officer against whom allegations had been levelled—Sub-Inspector Sandeep Kumar—was entrusted with several aspects of the post-incident investigation, including arranging the post-mortem examination, photographing the lock-up, seizing the alleged ligature material, and coordinating with the crime team for forensic examination of the scene.

A medical board conducted the post-mortem examination on January 17, 2018. The board concluded that the cause of death was “asphyxia due to ante-mortem hanging.” Following the examination, Deepak’s body was handed over to his father.

The petitioner, however, consistently maintained that the official version did not explain the surrounding circumstances leading to the death. One aspect that particularly troubled the petitioner related to the recovery of articles from inside the lock-up.

According to the judgment, the Forensic Science Laboratory report noted that two blades had been recovered from the lock-up and further recorded that the possibility of the alleged ligature material having been cut using those blades could not be ruled out. The petitioner argued that Deepak had been searched thoroughly at the time of his arrest and no such objects had been found on his person. In these circumstances, the unexplained presence of the blades inside the lock-up raised serious questions regarding the police version of events.

The petitioner also relied heavily upon a departmental enquiry order dated 26 September 2018, contending that it demonstrated negligence on the part of police personnel stationed at Police Station Karawal Nagar and reinforced the State’s constitutional liability for the custodial death.

Another issue addressed during the proceedings concerned the petitioner’s relationship with the deceased. Although Deepak was biologically the son of the petitioner’s brother, the Court recorded that following the death of his biological mother when he was approximately one year old, he had been brought up and adopted by Shyam Sundar, with whom he shared a father-son relationship throughout his life. An affidavit affirming these facts was placed on record before the Court.

These factual circumstances ultimately formed the backdrop against which the Delhi High Court examined a much larger constitutional question: whether an unnatural death inside police custody, irrespective of disputes surrounding its precise cause, automatically engages the State’s constitutional liability to compensate the victim’s family under Article 21 of the Constitution.

The constitutional question before the Court

Although the petition contained serious allegations of custodial assault, extortion and police misconduct, Justice Sachin Datta made it clear that the High Court was not called upon, in these writ proceedings, to determine whether Deepak had been murdered, subjected to custodial torture, or whether individual police officers were criminally liable.

Instead, the Court carefully narrowed the controversy. The central issue before it was whether an undisputed unnatural death occurring inside police custody, regardless of whether it was ultimately caused by custodial violence, negligence or suicide, entitled the victim’s next of kin to constitutional compensation under Article 21 of the Constitution. Questions regarding criminal culpability, the Court observed, would have to be determined in appropriate proceedings independently of the constitutional remedy sought before it.

This distinction ultimately became the foundation of the judgment. Rather than treating compensation as dependent upon proving police brutality beyond doubt, the Court examined whether the constitutional obligation of the State itself had been breached merely because an individual entrusted to its custody had died an unnatural death. The answer, according to the Court, was unequivocal.

Petitioner’s Case: Every custodial death reflects a failure of the state’s constitutional duty

Appearing for the petitioner, Senior Advocate Trideep Pais argued that the State’s liability arose not merely because of allegations of police misconduct but because Deepak had died while completely under State control.

The petitioner contended that the circumstances surrounding the death demonstrated serious lapses on the part of police officials. Reliance was placed upon the forensic evidence showing recovery of two blades from inside the lock-up. Since Deepak had been searched upon arrest and no such objects had been recovered from him, the petitioner questioned how these articles came to be inside the lock-up and argued that the official version of suicide was riddled with unanswered questions.

The departmental enquiry, according to the petitioner, independently established negligence on the part of the police personnel posted at Police Station Karawal Nagar. Consequently, irrespective of the precise mechanism through which the death occurred, the State had failed in its constitutional obligation to safeguard the life of a person entirely under its control.

The petitioner also urged the Court to adopt the multiplier principle, developed in motor accident compensation jurisprudence through Sarla Verma v. Delhi Transport Corporation, for calculating compensation in custodial death cases, arguing that constitutional compensation should be determined on objective principles rather than arbitrary figures.

The State’s Defence: Compensation is not automatic

The Government of NCT of Delhi resisted the petition by advancing a substantially different understanding of custodial death compensation. It argued that compensation does not automatically follow every custodial death and that claims for monetary relief must be governed primarily by Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme, 2018.

According to the State, the statutory scheme constituted a comprehensive framework for determining both entitlement and quantum of compensation, and constitutional courts should ordinarily operate within those parameters.

The respondents further argued that the present case materially differed from cases involving proven custodial violence. Medical evidence, they pointed out, attributed the cause of death to ante-mortem hanging and did not reveal injuries conclusively suggestive of custodial assault. In the absence of established police brutality or direct culpability, the State argued that liability could not simply be presumed. Compensation, it submitted, must depend upon the degree of responsibility established in each individual case rather than broad constitutional presumptions.

In support of this submission, reliance was placed upon the Delhi High Court’s earlier decision in Shakila v. State (NCT of Delhi), where compensation had been discussed in the context of the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme.

The Court’s Response: Custodial death is not an ordinary death—it is a constitutional failure

Justice Datta rejected the attempt to reduce the case to a mere dispute over compensation. The judgment begins its constitutional analysis with an emphatic observation that custodial deaths are fundamentally different from deaths occurring in ordinary circumstances.

The Court observed:

“Custodial death is not merely an individual tragedy but a matter of systemic concern, striking at the very foundation of the rule of law. When a person is deprived of liberty and placed in the custody of the State, the authorities assume a heightened duty of care.” (Para 21)

Unlike ordinary citizens, individuals lodged in police custody have surrendered every meaningful degree of personal liberty. They cannot leave, seek medical assistance independently, or protect themselves. They depend entirely upon the State for their safety.

Consequently, once liberty is taken away, the State simultaneously assumes what the Court described as a “heightened duty of care.”

Justice Datta observed that every lapse resulting in death inside custody—whether arising from violence, negligence, unexplained circumstances or suicide—necessarily demands judicial scrutiny because such incidents affect not merely the individual concerned but also public confidence in the justice system itself.

This articulation marks one of the strongest statements in recent custodial death jurisprudence regarding the constitutional nature of the State’s responsibility.

Drawing upon national and international standards

To reinforce this understanding, the Court referred to the Supreme Court’s decision in In Re: Inhuman Conditions in 1382 Prisons, where the Supreme Court had itself relied upon the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) Guidelines on Investigating Deaths in Custody. Those guidelines classify deaths caused by intentional injury—including homicide and suicide—as unnatural deaths.

The Supreme Court had earlier endorsed these guidelines and recommended that they receive wider circulation among governments in India. Justice Datta invoked this principle to underline that suicide occurring within custody is not a natural event capable of insulating the State from constitutional scrutiny. Rather, it is categorised internationally and constitutionally as an unnatural custodial death.

Precedents invoked in the judgment

1. Nilabati Behera: The foundation of custodial death jurisprudence

The Court then turned to one of the cornerstones of Indian constitutional law—Nilabati Behera v. State of Orissa (1993). Justice Datta described the decision as laying down the strict constitutional duty owed by the State to every individual placed in custody.

The Supreme Court had declared that prisoners, undertrials and detainees do not cease to enjoy the protection of Article 21 merely because they have been deprived of liberty. Their freedom may be lawfully restricted, but their right to life remains inviolable. Indeed, because they are unable to safeguard themselves, the responsibility resting upon police and prison authorities becomes even greater.

The Delhi High Court emphasised the Supreme Court’s observation that the State’s duty of care towards persons in custody is strict, admits no exceptions, and that the doctrine of sovereign immunity has no application where constitutional rights are violated.

Where a person dies in custody otherwise than according to procedure established by law, constitutional courts possess not merely the power but the obligation to award monetary compensation for the violation of fundamental rights under Articles 32 and 226.

Justice Datta noted that Nilabati Behera fundamentally transformed Indian constitutional law by recognising compensation as an independent public law remedy rather than merely a civil claim for damages.

2. Parvathamma: Even a custodial suicide raises questions of negligence

The judgment next relied extensively upon the Karnataka High Court’s decision in Parvathamma v. Chief Secretary to Government of Karnataka, a case involving an alleged custodial suicide. Justice Datta reproduced the Karnataka High Court’s reasoning questioning how a detainee managed to fashion a ligature, obtain the necessary material, and commit suicide inside a police station supposedly under constant supervision.

The Karnataka High Court had observed that, regardless of whether death resulted from torture or suicide, the burden rested squarely upon the police to demonstrate absence of negligence. Once an individual enters police custody, it becomes the responsibility of the police to ensure that he remains alive and safe until produced before the court.

The Court had also warned that custodial deaths cannot be treated in a “casual and cavalier fashion,” emphasising that constitutional courts must continuously evolve effective public law remedies to preserve the rule of law and protect citizens against abuse of State power. Justice Datta treated these observations as directly reinforcing the constitutional principles laid down in Nilabati Behera.

3. Bombay High Court: Suicide inside custody cannot be equated with suicide outside custody

One of the most significant discussions in the judgment concerns the Bombay High Court’s decision in Gopichand v. State of Maharashtra, which dealt specifically with custodial suicide. Rejecting the argument that suicide automatically severs State responsibility, the Bombay High Court had reasoned that a person in police custody experiences severe psychological trauma by virtue of detention itself. The existence of such trauma, it held, cannot be ignored while assessing constitutional liability.

Justice Datta reproduced the reasoning that there exists a direct logical relationship between police custody and the subsequent custodial death, even where death occurs by suicide.

The Bombay High Court had further observed that once death occurs inside police custody, the burden shifts to the authorities to demonstrate that conditions surrounding the detainee remained entirely normal and that no acts or omissions on their part contributed to the fatal outcome. Where they fail to discharge that burden, constitutional liability follows. This reasoning would become central to Justice Datta’s own conclusions regarding the State’s responsibility in Deepak’s case.

An unnatural custodial death is sufficient to attract constitutional liability

After surveying decades of constitutional jurisprudence, Justice Sachin Datta arrived at what is undoubtedly the central holding of the judgment. Rejecting the State’s attempt to limit compensation to cases involving proven custodial violence, the Court held that the very fact of an unnatural custodial death is sufficient to trigger constitutional liability.

In words that are likely to be repeatedly cited in future custodial death litigation, the Court declared that a person does not forfeit his fundamental rights merely because he has been arrested. Rather, the opposite is true. The moment an individual enters police custody, the constitutional burden upon the State becomes even heavier because the detainee is completely dependent upon State authorities for his safety, health and survival.

Justice Datta observed:

“It is well settled that when a person is in custody, he does not lose his fundamental rights guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution and the State assumes an absolute and inalienable duty to protect his life and dignity.” (Part 28)

The Court then articulated perhaps the most significant proposition emerging from the judgment. It held that an unnatural custodial death—even where the immediate cause is stated to be suicide—is not a private act divorced from State responsibility. Instead, such a death necessarily reflects a failure of the authorities entrusted with the constitutional obligation of protecting the prisoner.

Justice Datta observed:

“An unnatural death in custody, even if by suicide, is not a private act divorced from State responsibility, but reflects an omission of duty on the part of those charged with safekeeping. The State cannot escape responsibility by invoking statutory schemes or by contending absence of direct culpability. The very fact of custodial death, being unnatural, attracts liability and obliges the Court to mould relief in the form of compensation.” (Part 28)

This finding is particularly important because custodial suicide has frequently been invoked by investigating agencies as a defence against allegations of custodial misconduct. The Delhi High Court categorically rejected such an approach. Instead, it held that the question is not merely how the detainee died, but whether the State fulfilled its constitutional obligation to prevent that death.

State cannot escape responsibility by denying direct culpability

Justice Datta further rejected another recurring defence often advanced in custodial death cases—that unless direct police assault or torture is conclusively proved, compensation cannot be awarded. The Court held that constitutional liability under Article 21 is qualitatively different from criminal liability.

A criminal prosecution seeks to determine individual guilt. A constitutional court, on the other hand, examines whether the State has discharged its constitutional obligations. Accordingly, the Court held that the State cannot evade liability merely by asserting that no police officer has yet been found criminally responsible. Nor can it rely upon statutory compensation schemes to dilute constitutional remedies.

Justice Datta therefore concluded that the constitutional entitlement of the petitioner’s family to compensation was “beyond dispute.” The only remaining question concerned the amount that ought to be awarded.

Compensation under Article 21 is independent of statutory compensation schemes

A substantial portion of the judgment is devoted to answering one of the State’s principal legal arguments—that compensation must be restricted to the framework contained in Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme, 2018.

Justice Datta firmly disagreed. The Court acknowledged that statutory victim compensation schemes undoubtedly provide one avenue of relief for victims and their families. However, constitutional compensation occupies an entirely different field. Tracing the law from Nilabati Behera, D.K. Basu, and subsequent Supreme Court decisions, Justice Datta explained that compensation awarded under Article 226 is not derived from statutory provisions. Instead, it flows directly from the violation of the fundamental right guaranteed under Article 21.

Consequently, statutory schemes supplement constitutional remedies—they do not replace them. The Court held:

” The statutory scheme under Section 357A of the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 is only one avenue of relief; it supplements and does not curtail or exclude the power of this Court under Article 226 to award compensation for established infringement of fundamental rights. Custodial death, being unnatural, prima facie attracts liability under Article 21.” (Para 38)

This clarification considerably strengthens the scope of writ jurisdiction in custodial death cases. It confirms that constitutional courts are not constrained by the monetary limits prescribed under victim compensation schemes whenever Article 21 has been violated.

Why the court distinguished Shakila v. State

The respondents had placed considerable reliance upon the Delhi High Court’s earlier decision in Shakila v. State (NCT of Delhi).

Justice Datta carefully examined that precedent but concluded that it did not govern the present case.

The Court observed that Shakila principally dealt with an entirely different issue—namely, who qualifies as a “dependent” under the Delhi Victim Compensation Scheme and how compensation should be distributed under that statutory framework. It was not concerned with determining constitutional compensation under Article 226 based upon violation of Article 21.

Moreover, Justice Datta pointed out that Shakila had not considered the earlier Division Bench judgment in Kiran v. State, which had specifically approved the use of the multiplier principle while awarding compensation for custodial deaths.

Since a Division Bench decision binds a Single Judge, the Court held that Kiran, rather than Shakila, furnished the correct legal framework for determining compensation in the present case. This aspect of the judgment provides important doctrinal clarity regarding the relationship between constitutional compensation and statutory victim compensation schemes.

The court endorses the multiplier method for custodial death cases

Perhaps the most practically significant contribution of the judgment lies in its approach to determining compensation. Historically, constitutional compensation in custodial death cases has often varied widely from case to case, with courts awarding amounts based largely on judicial discretion. Justice Datta sought to bring greater consistency to this area.

Relying upon earlier decisions including Kiran v. State, Prakash Kaur v. State of Punjab, Sanjeevani v. State of Maharashtra, and the recent Allahabad High Court decision in Prema Devi v. State of Uttar Pradesh, the Court held that the multiplier method evolved in motor accident compensation jurisprudence provides a rational and objective framework for calculating damages in custodial death cases as well.

The Court also referred to the Supreme Court’s decision in Jagdish v. Mohan, where the Supreme Court had observed that compensation should not be viewed as charity or largesse but as an affirmation of constitutional dignity. Justice Datta reproduced the Supreme Court’s observation that:

“Awards of compensation are not law’s doles. In a discourse of rights, they constitute entitlements under law.” (Para 40)

This, the Court held, perfectly captures the constitutional philosophy underlying public law compensation. The objective is not generosity, but rather the enforcement of constitutional rights after their violation.

How the court arrived at the figure of ₹18.44 lakh

Having settled the legal principles, the Court turned to the actual computation of compensation. The material before the Court indicated that Deepak, aged 19 years, worked as a waiter and earned approximately ₹12,000 per month.

Justice Datta accepted the lower end of the asserted income and calculated compensation in accordance with the principles laid down in Sarla Verma v. Delhi Transport Corporation and National Insurance Co. Ltd. v. Pranay Sethi. The calculation proceeded as follows:

• Monthly income: ₹12,000
• Annual income: ₹1,44,000
• Addition of 40% towards future prospects: ₹57,600
• Total annual income after future prospects: ₹2,01,600
• Deduction of 50% towards personal expenses (the deceased being a bachelor): ₹1,00,800
• Application of the multiplier of 18, applicable to persons aged between 15 and 20 years: ₹18,14,400
• Addition of ₹15,000 towards loss of estate.
• Addition of ₹15,000 towards funeral expenses.

The resulting compensation came to ₹18, 44, 400, which the Court directed the respondents to pay within eight weeks. Notably, by explicitly adopting the multiplier method, the Court has provided future litigants and constitutional courts with a far more structured methodology for quantifying compensation in custodial death cases, reducing dependence upon arbitrary lump-sum awards.

A significant expansion of constitutional accountability

Beyond the immediate relief granted to the petitioner’s family, the judgment represents a significant reaffirmation of India’s constitutional commitment to protecting life within State custody. Justice Datta makes it abundantly clear that the constitutional obligation of the State begins, and not ends, with arrest.

The judgment decisively rejects the notion that custodial suicide somehow falls outside constitutional responsibility. Instead, it recognises that a person confined within a police lock-up has surrendered virtually every means of self-protection. In those circumstances, ensuring that the detainee emerges alive is not merely an administrative responsibility but a constitutional obligation flowing directly from Article 21.

By reaffirming the doctrines of strict public law liability, rejecting attempts to confine relief within statutory compensation schemes, endorsing the multiplier method for assessing damages, and declaring that an unnatural custodial death itself constitutes sufficient basis for constitutional compensation, the Delhi High Court has added another important chapter to the evolving jurisprudence on custodial violence and State accountability. In doing so, the Court reinforces a foundational constitutional principle: when the State assumes control over an individual’s liberty, it assumes an equally inescapable responsibility for protecting that individual’s life and dignity.

The complete judgement may be read below:

[1] While, in 2018, the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) was in power in Delhi, with Arvind Kejriwal serving as the Chief Minister and Lieutenant Governor Anil Baija, the Delhi Police has always been directly governed by the union home ministry, an issue that has caused frictions between state and centre. Rajnath Singh was union home minister at the time.

Related:

Decoding the Sathankulam Judgement on Custodial Death – Part 1 – Context of Torture in India

Rights

“Your Helplessness feels in the garb of Protection”: SC rebukes CBI for failure to arrest officers in custodial death case of Deva Pardhi

Monitoring Torture: SC’s suo motu action on custodial deaths and CCTV camera non-compliance

Custodial Death of Dalit Law Student Somnath Suryawanshi: FIR registered after Supreme Court upholds Bombay HC directive

“Even a Murderer Wouldn’t Do This”: Ajith Kumar’s custodial death and Tamil Nadu’s shameful culture of impunity

“Shielding their own”: Supreme Court slams Madhya Pradesh police, transfers custodial death probe of a tribal man to CBI

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