In a memorandum submitted from its Ahmedabad office, the organisation cited media reports detailing incidents of arson, vandalism and damage across multiple locations in and around Dhandhuka. According to the complaint, shops and garages were damaged and set ablaze near Ranpur Circle and along Barwala Road, while vehicles were torched at Dholera tri-junction and Rudra Complex on Bagodara highway.

Incidents of stone pelting in residential areas such as Naseeb Society and attacks on establishments including Alpha Pan Parlour, Gajanan Restaurant and Ami Hotel were also reported. The memorandum further mentioned damage to transport offices, burning of trucks near Yakin Transport, and destruction at RMS Hospital premises. It also referred to alleged attempts to set fire to a cemetery and agricultural losses, including burning of garlic crops.

The MCC has urged authorities to act in accordance with Supreme Court guidelines on mob violence and lynching, particularly those laid down in the Tehseen S. Poonawalla vs Union of India, which mandate preventive, remedial and punitive measures by state authorities.

Mujahid Nafees, convenor of the MCC Gujarat, said there appeared to be “a specific group intent on disturbing peace and targeting properties belonging to Muslims,” and called for immediate intervention to restore law and order. He demanded a prompt assessment of damages by the revenue department and compensation for those affected, strict legal action against those involved in the violence, and action against individuals spreading inflammatory content on social media.

Dhandhuka, located in Ahmedabad district, has witnessed communal tensions in the past, including incidents that drew statewide attention and prompted heightened policing and surveillance. Authorities have not yet issued a detailed public statement on the latest developments, though local police are understood to have increased deployment in sensitive areas to prevent further escalation.

Courtesy: CounterView

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These are not isolated disruptions. When read alongside official data placed before the Odisha Legislative Assembly in March 2026—where Chief Minister Mohan Charan Majhi acknowledged 54 communal riots and 7 mob lynching incidents since June 2024—and a recent audit by the Comptroller and Auditor General of India exposing the exclusion of over 160,000 Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group (PVTG) members from welfare schemes, a more systemic pattern begins to emerge.

Across districts and contexts, the incidents point to a convergence of communal polarisation, administrative inaction, coercive responses to dissent, and gaps in welfare delivery.

Church Vandalism in Keonjhar: Crime, silence, and communal retaliation

On April 6, 2026, a church in Murgagoth village under Anandpur police station in Keonjhar district was vandalised by a mob, as reported by The Hindu. The attack was triggered by allegations that a visually impaired minor girl had become pregnant after being sexually assaulted months earlier by a man from the same village—identified as her distant uncle.

Police officials confirmed that the alleged assault had not been reported prior to the incident. It was only when villagers recently became aware of the pregnancy that tensions escalated. In the early hours of April 6, when the church was unoccupied, a group of miscreants removed furniture, including chairs and an almirah, and set them on fire.

The accused was reportedly working in Tamil Nadu at the time. The delay in reporting the alleged sexual assault raises serious concerns about access to justice, barriers to reporting, and the vulnerability of the victim, particularly given her visual impairment. At the same time, the targeting of a place of worship reflects how criminal allegations were swiftly reframed through a communal lens.

The village itself, consisting of around 85 households, is almost evenly divided between Hindu and Christian residents. Police described the area as communally sensitive and deployed forces to prevent escalation. A complaint has now been filed regarding the alleged rape, but the sequence of events underscores a troubling dynamic—where due process is bypassed, and collective punishment is enacted before legal accountability is even initiated.

A State Under Strain: Rising communal violence and incomplete accountability

The Keonjhar incident is not an aberration. Data shared by Chief Minister Mohan Charan Majhi in the Odisha Legislative Assembly in March 2026 indicates that 54 communal riots and 7 mob lynching incidents have been recorded in the state between June 2024 and February 2026, according to Hindustan Times.

Nearly 300 individuals were arrested in connection with communal riots, and 61 people in lynching cases. However, the fact that chargesheets were filed in less than 50% of riot cases raises concerns about the effectiveness of investigations and the likelihood of convictions.

District-level data reveals concentrations of violence:

• Balasore: 24 riot cases
• Khurda (including Bhubaneswar): 16 cases
• Additional incidents in Koraput, Malkangiri, and Bhadrak

A government White Paper further recorded 122 communal incidents in 2025, including 16 involving Hindu-Christian tensions.

Yet, significant incidents appear underrepresented in official accounts. The October 2025 communal violence in Cuttack, which led to a three-day curfew following clashes during Durga Puja immersion, was not explicitly acknowledged in the Chief Minister’s reply. The violence reportedly escalated into arson and clashes involving members of right-wing organisations.

Over the past 20 months, multiple towns have experienced curfews, internet shutdowns, and mob violence, including incidents targeting Bengali-speaking Muslims. Officials have conceded that some cases may go unreported, particularly when victims are daily-wage earners reluctant to approach the police.

While the state has pointed to measures such as peace committees and strengthened intelligence gathering, the persistence of incidents and gaps in prosecution suggest a deeper issue of accountability and deterrence.

Rayagada Erupts: Tribal resistance, mining, and militarised policing

Tensions over land, resources, and consent erupted violently in Rayagada district in April 2026, where clashes broke out between tribal communities and security forces over a road construction project linked to the proposed Sijimali bauxite mine, as reported by Hindustan Times.

At least 70 people were injured, including 58 security personnel, after villagers allegedly resisted police with stones, axes, and other weapons. Police responded with tear gas, and prohibitory orders were imposed in the area.

The confrontation occurred in the context of long-standing opposition to the mining project led by Vedanta Limited, which secured rights to the Sijimali reserve in 2023. The project spans approximately 1,500 hectares, including over 700 hectares of forestland, and is expected to produce 9 million tonnes of bauxite annually.

For local tribal communities, however, the issue is existential. Residents have consistently argued that the project threatens their forests, water sources, livelihoods, and sacred landscapes. Central to the dispute is the requirement under the Forest Rights Act, 2006 that Gram Sabha consent must be obtained before forestland diversion.

Authorities have claimed that such consent was secured in 2023. However, multiple villages have since passed resolutions denying that these Gram Sabha meetings ever took place, alleging that approvals were fabricated.

The situation has been further aggravated by allegations of heavy-handed policing. Civil society groups and local organisations have reported:

• Night raids in villages
• Mass detentions, including women
• Use of tear gas and force in residential areas
• Deployment of drones and armed patrols restricting daily life

An open letter by the “Concerned Citizens Forum” described the police response as “barbaric” and called for withdrawal of forces, release of detained individuals, and cancellation of the mining project.

#Vedanta_Go_Back …..
Tribal people of Rayagada district #Odisha hv taken an oath to fight against corporate loot. pic.twitter.com/j0UJcTHSoB

— Amiya_Pandav ଅମିୟ ପାଣ୍ଡଵ Write n Fight (@AmiyaPandav) April 8, 2026

The clash is thus not merely a law-and-order issue, but part of a prolonged conflict over development, legality, and tribal autonomy.

Exclusion by design? CAG flags systemic welfare failures

Parallel to these conflicts, a structural crisis in governance emerges from the findings of the Comptroller and Auditor General of India. In an audit conducted between July 2024 and January 2025, the CAG found that 54% of Odisha’s PVTG population—around 160,000 people—remained excluded from welfare schemes.

Despite the Odisha PVTG Empowerment and Livelihood Improvement Programme (OPELIP), only 134,000 out of 294,000 individuals were covered as of March 2024. The exclusion was particularly stark in 1,138 newly identified villages, which were not integrated into the programme even years after recognition.

Key findings include:

• Three Micro Project Agencies (MPAs) created in 2020 remain non-functional, lacking both staff and funding
• Entire communities, such as the Birhor tribe (341 individuals), remain completely excluded
• ₹20.20 crore in funds remained unspent for over three years
• Basic data on infrastructure and services in tribal areas is missing or unavailable

The audit also flagged serious shortcomings in the Late Marriage Incentive Scheme, which reached only 58% of its target beneficiaries and covered just 43% of villages.

These findings reveal not just administrative inefficiency, but a pattern of systemic neglect, where even targeted interventions fail to reach the most vulnerable populations.

The complete CAG report may be viewed below:

Law, Power, and Impunity: MLA firing incident in Balangir

Questions of accountability were further sharpened by an incident in Balangir district in April 2026, where BJP MLA Naveen Jain was booked for allegedly firing blank rounds during a Ram Navami procession.

The firing, which took place in a crowded public setting, caused panic among attendees. Police registered a case under provisions of the Arms Act and the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, seized the weapon, and suspended the MLA’s Personal Security Officer.

Despite video evidence, the MLA claimed the weapon was a toy gun—a claim contradicted by police findings. Opposition leaders have argued that the incident reflects a broader pattern of political impunity, particularly given allegations of prior misconduct.

Conclusion

Taken together, the events across Odisha reveal a pattern that cannot be dismissed as episodic unrest. The Keonjhar church vandalism underscores how quickly allegations—particularly involving vulnerable victims—can be communalised in the absence of timely legal intervention. The Rayagada clashes expose the deep faultlines between state-led development and tribal rights, where questions of consent under the Forest Rights Act, 2006 remain unresolved and contested on the ground. The CAG’s findings on PVTG exclusion highlight a parallel reality of administrative neglect, where even designated welfare mechanisms fail to reach those most in need. Meanwhile, incidents like the Balangir firing case involving a sitting MLA raise troubling concerns about accountability and the uneven application of the law.

What binds these developments is not merely their occurrence within a short timeframe, but the institutional responses that follow—or fail to follow. Delayed complaints, incomplete investigations, underutilised funds, disputed consent processes, and selective enforcement together point to a governance framework struggling to maintain both legitimacy and trust.

In this context, the question is no longer limited to law and order. It is about whether state institutions can uphold due process, protect vulnerable communities, and mediate conflict without deepening it. The trajectory suggested by these incidents indicates that without structural course correction, Odisha risks moving further towards a landscape marked by normalised violence, contested authority, and systemic exclusion.

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Odisha: 18 months, 54 incidents of communal hate crimes, 7 mob lynchings

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The post Fractured Fault lines: Violence, governance gaps, and rising tensions across Odisha appeared first on SabrangIndia.

In this written reply to the state Assembly, the Chief Minister also detailed that the highest number of cases of communal riots, 24, were reported in Balasore district, followed by 16 cases in Khurda district, which includes the state capital Bhubaneswar.

Absent in the Chief Minister’s reply, was any mention or reference to the communal clash that occurred in Cuttack during Durga Puja immersion and thereafter. In October 2025, in an incident that had few precedents in the city, Cuttack saw a curfew for around three days following communal violence that started with a clash during Durga Puja immersion. Days later, members of the VHP clashed with police and indulged in vandalism and arson.

The discussions saw stormy repartees in the State Assembly as Opposition parties targeted the government, alleging a sharp increase in cases of hate crimes and communal clashes. The Chief Minister defended his administration saying that steps are being taken to coordinate with different communities through peace committees under various police stations and through the local administration.

In the past 20 months, half a dozen towns in Odisha have seen imposition of curfew and Internet suspension over communal incidents, including the lynching of Bengali-speaking Muslims. In most cases, the accused have been members of right-wing outfits. Officials conceded that some cases may have gone unreported, especially when victims are daily wagers hesitant to approach police.

The Opposition has criticised the government over the alleged spread of “communal tension” in the state, where the BJP formed its first solo government in June 2024.

The National Crime Records Bureau puts the number of communal or religion-based incidents in Odisha at 10 in 2021, 44 in 2023 (pre-election year), and 15 in 2025. Data shared by the Union Ministry of Home Affairs in Parliament said that Odisha saw nine communal incidents in 2018 and zero in 2019.

Citizens for Justice and Peace has consistently reported on this spiral in targeted violence in the state over the past 18 months. This report detailed the humiliation and attack on a pastor in Dhenkaal district in early January 2026. The irregular detentions of migrant workers, Bengali, in the state were also questioned by the Court. Worse, was the systemic and consistent attacks on churches and vendors (daily wage earners) selling Christmas goods across Odisha, Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh in late December 2025.

Related:

Publicly Tortured, Forced to Eat Cow Dung: No arrests in Odisha Pastor assault case

Odisha: Man forced to chant religious slogan, lynched by cow vigilantes

MP, Odisha, Delhi, Rajasthan: Right-wing outfits barge into 2 churches ahead of Christmas, attack vendors selling X’mas goodies, tensions run high

The post Odisha: 18 months, 54 incidents of communal hate crimes, 7 mob lynchings appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Police said Mohammed Arif, 25, and Syed Imran, 31, were allegedly attacked while they were out for a walk. Deputy police superintendent Madolappa said five suspects were arrested in connection with the assault. “The accused were reportedly under the influence of alcohol,” Madolappa said. Names of the accused have not been released by the authorities.

Unfortunately, the news reports are based only on police sources. HT reports that the police said the incident took communal colour as the Muslim community alleged it was a targeted attack. They cited the complaint filed in the case and said that six to seven assailants made death threats and attacked Arif and Imran with stones, causing head injuries.

Further, the newspaper also reported that the police stated that tensions escalated when protesters gathered outside the station. Some protesters allegedly attacked police personnel, including assistant sub-inspector Mukhtar Patel, and threw stones. “Another case has been registered against 49 Muslim community members for attempting to lay siege to the police station, assaulting Patel, other police staff, and throwing stones,” Madolappa said.

Though the situation was reportedly brought under control thereafter, the original assault on teachers who happened to be Muslim and the motive of the attackers remains a mystery, unreported.

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Attempts to create communal tension reported during Ram Navami celebration in parts of Bengal and UP

The post Bidar, Karnataka: Two school teachers assaulted in Karnataka’s Bidar, triggering communal tensions appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The Chronicle of Communal Incidents in the Coastal Districts of Karnataka 2025 exists precisely to resist that silence. Compiled by Suresh Bhat B., member of the Karnataka Communal Harmony Forum and PUCL, Mangaluru, the report is a painstaking, month-by-month documentation of communal incidents across Dakshina Kannada, Udupi, and surrounding coastal districts. Drawing exclusively from local media reports, the chronicle records 142 communal incidents in 2025 alone, while cautioning that this figure reflects only what was reported—not the full extent of what occurred.

The document does not sensationalise. It does something far more radical: it records.

Why this report matters

In a political climate where communal violence is routinely minimised, relativised, or dismissed as “law and order problems”, this chronicle performs an essential democratic function. It converts what is often portrayed as sporadic unrest into data, patterns, and continuity.

Each entry—date, location, allegation, police response—adds to a larger picture: communal polarisation in coastal Karnataka is neither accidental nor episodic. It is sustained, structured, and repeatedly enabled.

The report also makes its limits clear. It relies on publicly available media coverage. It acknowledges underreporting. It excludes highlighted or repeated articles to avoid duplication. In doing so, it asserts credibility rather than exaggeration.

142 incidents, one region, one year

The numerical breakdown alone is sobering:

• 142 total communal incidents
• 74 incidents related to social media hate and misinformation
• 36 incidents of hate speech or hate crime
• 10 incidents of cattle vigilantism
• 8 incidents of moral policing
• Multiple cases involving desecration, vandalism, intimidation, and provocation

This is not a random distribution. The largest category—social media hate—reveals how communalism in 2025 is no longer confined to physical spaces. Phones, platforms, and forwards now function as the first site of violence.

Equally telling is the report’s careful attribution. A significant majority of incidents are allegedly linked to Hindu fundamentalist or vigilante actors, while Muslim individuals and institutions appear more frequently as targets of violence, harassment, or provocation—a reality often obscured by “both sides” narratives.

Moral Policing: Discipline as communal control

One of the most chilling sections of the report documents moral policing—the public regulation of bodies, relationships, and mobility, particularly of women.

Across Mangaluru, Udupi, Uppinangady, and Puttur, young women were stopped, questioned, abused, filmed, and threatened for speaking to men of another faith. In some cases, interfaith identity was merely assumed. In others, it was used explicitly as justification for violence.

On January 23, 2025, in Mangaluru, activists of the right-wing group Sri Rama Sene vandalised a unisex salon near Bejai, alleging “immoral activities”. The attack caused extensive damage to the establishment, with glass panes shattered and furniture destroyed. The group further demanded the closure of all massage centres in the city. Following public outcry, the City Crime Branch arrested Prasad Attavar, the leader of Sri Rama Sene, underscoring how vigilante moral regulation continues to operate openly before law enforcement intervenes

Later in the year, on August 11, 2025, police arrested six men in Mangaluru for stopping and threatening a PU student for walking with a man from another faith near a bus stand. The girl reported being abused and intimidated, forcing her companion to flee the spot. A case was registered only after a formal complaint by the student

The report also records moral policing by Muslim vigilantes, including a November 6, 2025 incident in Uppinangady, where two men abused a mixed-religion group of college students and assaulted one of the boys. Police registered cases under multiple sections of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, demonstrating that vigilantism cuts across communities—but does not occur symmetrically in scale or frequency

The report quietly exposes a critical truth: moral policing is not about morality. It is about enforcing communal boundaries, asserting ownership over women’s bodies, and producing fear as a social discipline.

While police action followed some incidents, the chronicle notes repeat offenders, familiar group names, and recurring patterns—suggesting that deterrence remains weak.

Cattle vigilantism and the politics of suspicion

The documentation of cattle-related incidents reflects another long-running fault line in coastal Karnataka. Allegations of cattle transport or slaughter—often unverified—continue to function as instant triggers for mob violence.

What the report shows is not merely violence, but the presumption of guilt. Muslim men are intercepted, assaulted, and handed over to police by vigilante groups, reversing the logic of law enforcement. In several cases, investigations later revealed exaggeration or falsehood—yet the violence had already occurred.

The chronicle does not editorialise. But its accumulation of cases makes one conclusion unavoidable: vigilantism has become normalised, operating alongside formal policing rather than being dismantled by it.

Hate Speech: From margins to mainstream

Perhaps the most politically explosive aspect of the report is its documentation of hate speech. The chronicle documents 36 incidents of hate speech and hate crimes, with a striking number attributed to Hindu fundamentalist actors.

On June 4, 2025, in Kadaba, police registered a case against Naveen Neriya for delivering a provocative speech near a police station, allegedly inciting the public and targeting the police itself. The report notes that such speeches often occur in moments of heightened tension, acting as catalysts for escalation rather than isolated acts

In Belthangady, on April 14, 2025, a programme known as Purusha Kattuna allegedly included content insulting Islam, Prophet Mohammed, and the azaan. A video of the event circulated widely on social media, leading to the registration of a case against 20–30 persons for promoting enmity between communities

The report also records hate speech cases against Muslim individuals, including the July 2025 arrest of a student in Udupi for allegedly writing provocative communal content on a hostel washroom wall. The matter was serious enough to warrant forensic examination of handwriting samples, highlighting the criminalisation of symbolic acts when framed communally

From religious gatherings to political protests, from YouTube channels to Facebook pages, hate speech targeting Muslims, Christians, and other minorities appears repeatedly. Religious symbols are mocked. Demographic fears are stoked. Violence is justified implicitly, sometimes explicitly.

The report records arrests and cases under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita—but also notes how many accused individuals are repeat offenders, some with long criminal histories who continue to enjoy public platforms.

This repetition tells its own story: hate speech is not an aberration; it is a tolerated political instrument.

Social media: The infrastructure of communalism

If there is one through-line across the 142 incidents, it is the role of digital platforms.

False claims of attacks. Doctored images. Inflammatory captions. Videos stripped of context. The report shows how misinformation spreads faster than verification, creating panic, mobilisation, and retaliation. With 74 documented incidents, social media emerges as the largest category of communal incidents in 2025.

On June 7, 2025, a photograph falsely portraying two Muslim youths as “bikers carrying swords” circulated widely on Instagram and WhatsApp. Police later clarified that the object in question was an aquarium stone and an e-cigarette. By the time the clarification was issued, fear had already spread across Dakshina Kannada

Similarly, on August 20, 2025, false claims circulated online alleging that a Muslim man had inappropriately touched a woman from another religion in Panemangaluru. Police investigation revealed that the accused was a minor boy from the same religion as the woman. The report highlights how such misinformation routinely targets Muslim men, constructing them as default suspects.

The chronicle records repeated police action against Facebook pages, X accounts, YouTube channels, and Instagram handles—yet the recurrence of such cases suggests enforcement remains reactive rather than preventive. In several cases, police later clarified that viral claims were false. But by then, fear had travelled further than truth ever could. The chronicle captures a critical shift: communal violence no longer requires physical proximity. It can be triggered remotely, anonymously, and at scale.

Desecration and symbolic violence

The report documents incidents aimed not at individuals alone, but at religious spaces and symbols. On May 6, 2025, miscreants vandalised eight granite tombstones in a Muslim graveyard belonging to the Juma Masjid in Gangolli. The damage was discovered days later, underscoring how such acts often escape immediate detection and accountability. In another incident, a cross was found destroyed near Shirva in Udupi, where local residents alleged an attempt to vitiate communal harmony. A formal complaint was lodged, but the report does not record any arrest, reflecting a familiar pattern of unresolved symbolic violence.

State Response: Fire-fighting, not prevention

The report documents significant state action—externments, Goonda Act proceedings, arrests, and eventually the creation of a Special Action Force (SAF) for the region. Yet the very existence of the SAF is an admission of failure. As the Home Minister himself acknowledged, years of “mild” responses allowed violence to escalate to a point where extraordinary measures became necessary.

Even so, the chronicle suggests that enforcement remains incident-driven, not structural. Known troublemakers resurface. Networks remain intact. Political patronage is rarely interrogated. What is missing, the report implies through its silences, is accountability at the top.

The chronicle also captures moments when communal mobilisation openly defied state authority. Following the murder of Suhas Shetty, the VHP called for a bandh in Dakshina Kannada on May 2, 2025. Despite the imposition of Section 144, a procession carrying the body was taken out in Mangaluru, openly violating prohibitory orders. The report notes this as a critical example of how communal mobilisation often overrides legal restraint

What the report ultimately documents

By grounding itself entirely in reported incidents, the present report refuses exaggeration—and yet arrives at a devastating conclusion.

Communal violence in coastal Karnataka is:

• Frequent
• Predictable
• Digitally amplified
• Often normalised
• Rarely dismantled at its source

This report it stands as a record against forgetting—one that documents not just violence, but the slow erosion of trust, safety, and equal citizenship in the coastal belt. Until prevention replaces documentation, this chronicle will remain both necessary and unfinished. If 142 reported incidents can occur in one year—with many more unreported—then the question is no longer whether coastal Karnataka is polarised. It is how much further polarisation will be allowed to go.

The complete report may be read here.

Previous reports may be read here, here and here.

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The post Cataloguing Communalism: What does the year-long record of hate, violence, and state failure in coastal Karnataka depict appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Looking at her 18-month-old daughter, Ayesha said, “Nurul wanted a girl, and here she is, but he is not. We were both only children. We didn’t want our child to grow up alone, but now she will. When she was born, so much was happening. No help reached me, but rumours spread that I was living comfortably with money. My in-laws abandoned me. My parents were under strain too. Some even blamed me for Nurul’s death. Then, the worst happened—my milk dried up just a month after Ashnoor’s birth. Breastfeeding stopped completely. The child had already lost her father’s shadow, and now this.” Ashnoor babbled on, pointing at her milk bottle.

Samreen’s daughter, two years old and a few months older than Ashnoor, has seen her father, Aamir. She played with him, teased him, and tired him out. She knows his face well. But she also saw him hanging from a fan, overwhelmed by a strangers’ cruelty. She doesn’t understand what it means. She asks Samreen, “Abbu went to the village. When will he come back?” Samreen pulls her close and pats her. What else can she do? Her wound is still fresh, from May 2025. In Latur’s Maidan Chowk, Aamir was beaten, called a Pakistani. They grabbed his collar, his belt, humiliated him, and recorded it on their phones. The label “Pakistani” shattered him. The next night, after 8 p.m., he took his life. It was a Sunday. Samreen said, “Every night from 8 to 9, I feel restless. Sad. How can I sleep in that room after his death? I stayed with my in-laws for 40 days, never sleeping before 3 a.m. Now, sometimes, I feel nothing at all. No one is truly yours. You carry your pain alone. Sundays used to excite me; now they scare me. Sometimes I think it was all a bad dream, and maybe it’s better that it broke.” Her voice trembles slightly. Her eyes well up. She removes her glasses, wipes her eyes gently, and with a mix of anger and detachment, says, “No one who promised help actually helped. Not even the police. Now I think, will doing anything bring him back? No. So I’m just trying to hold myself together.” For a moment, she stares into space, as if wrestling with herself.

“The situation in Vishalgad and Gajapur has been tense for years,” said Shaheen Mujawar from Vishalgad, her voice tinged with fear. “It gets worse during festivals like Shiv Jayanti and Mahashivratri.” Aggressive sloganeering by some groups creates fear and unease. “Last year, on July 14, 2024, the violence during the so-called Vishalgad anti-encroachment campaign still haunts us. Some slogans were so offensive, it’s hard to repeat them publicly. After that, many children on the fort fell ill. Women went silent. For days, they didn’t know what was happening. Many couldn’t sleep at night. With no jobs now, even salt feels expensive, and the stress on women is immense. That day, just the news of the attack gave one of our relatives a heart attack, and he died on the spot. This year, on July 14, the same fear returned. Sixty percent of the people on the fort left voluntarily. No one wants to die bit by bit,” Shaheen said, her words vivid, as if reliving it all.

In India, a country rich with diversity, communal tensions between religious groups sometimes turn violent. In recent years, openly provocative speeches against Muslims have increased. Muslim men are targeted, attacked, and killed in the name of cow protection. Social media is used to stir public anger, and Muslim men’s lives are taken coldly. Taking a life has become as casual as throwing mud online. But the wounds from these mob attacks aren’t just physical. They deeply affect the families left behind, especially women. Ayesha and Samreen, both in their thirties, lost their husbands to hate-filled attacks. Women like Shaheen have faced the terror of violent mobs and death. These events leave lasting scars on women’s minds. Social stigma, institutional failures, and financial strain add to their burdens. These factors undoubtedly impact their mental state. This report tries to understand how.

Ayesha Shikalgar’s Story: The Pain That Can’t Be Explained

I never imagined that Hindu-Muslim hatred could reach a small village like Pusesavali. Nurul Hasan was the president of the village’s Ganpati committee. Most of his friends were Hindus. Sometimes, during my pregnancy, I’d crave something sweet at night. Nurul’s friend owned a shop, and he’d open it after hours just for me. That’s how close their friendship was. But the same people he celebrated Ganeshotsav with, the ones he called friends, are now his accused killers, Ayesha says, her voice trembling with anger. She asks some hard questions: “No matter what happened, what did anyone gain by taking an innocent life? These people who chant Shivaji Maharaj’s name—what will they tell him? They didn’t just take a life; they destroyed my entire family!” Her voice rises slightly. “Would Shivaji Maharaj approve of such killers? There’s no reason to oppose anyone’s faith, but shouldn’t devotion bring joy to others? Two minutes of rage changed my life’s struggles and sorrows. At 8 p.m., he was with me, our private life just beginning. By morning, my life, my world, became public—caught in the media’s hands. But there was no space left to express what was in my heart. I couldn’t even grieve Nurul’s death properly. The pain of losing a person, that agony, I can’t put into words. It’s a strain I still feel, and now, whenever I see a saffron flag, my heart skips a beat.” A faint tension lingers on her face, framed by her headscarf.

Nurul Hasan, 31, was one of the educated Muslim youths in Pusesavali. In a village of 1,300 families, less than 10% are Muslim. Most run small businesses—grocery stores, mobile shops, or auto parts stores. Nurul was a civil engineer, taking on construction contracts and renting out his JCB machine. He was the sole breadwinner for his parents, their only child. He and Ayesha were married in November 2022. On September 10, 2023, Hindu nationalist groups from Pusesavali and nearby villages started violence, claiming a Muslim youth’s social media post had hurt religious sentiments. They attacked Muslim homes, shops, and mosques. The youth who posted wasn’t even in the village that day. Police later found his phone was hacked, and no evidence was found against him. But by then, the mob’s attack had changed Ayesha’s life. She was five months pregnant at the time. Just the day before, they’d gone for her sonography. Nurul had wanted a girl and had chosen the name Ashnoor, blending their names together.

After her husband’s death, Ayesha faced what many Indian widows do. She was blamed for Nurul’s death. Her in-laws said she was responsible because Nurul was praying on time while living with her. They claimed his going for namaz led to his death. Their words were a huge blow to her. Ayesha, a lawyer by profession, says, “It wasn’t even four days after his death, and they started saying such things. It broke my heart. I started facing mental distress.” The government and some Muslim groups collected aid for her, but none reached her. “I was in iddat, the four-month seclusion Muslim widows observe. I heard people were helping, but nothing came to me. I thought maybe my in-laws got it. Then rumours spread that Nurul was in debt and the money went to clear it. I had to publicly clarify he had no debts. I didn’t want aid, but I wanted the rumours to stop. My in-laws even said I took the money. That led to family disputes. They turned away from me. When I gave birth, they didn’t even come to see their only granddaughter. When I went to their house, they’d left for my mother-in-law’s village for good. They cut me off completely, as if their son’s death made me a stranger. I was fighting society’s rumours the one hand and my own family on the other. It was so stressful.”

Around that time, the stress took a toll on her father. He had a heart attack, his diabetes worsened, and gangrene forced doctors to amputate part of his leg. “No one was there to help. Even my own family turned away. The women’s WhatsApp group in Pusesavali removed me. They mocked me as a ‘gold digger.’ We didn’t even have money for my father’s treatment. People thought we were rich. Some even said I was living lavishly off my husband’s death money,” Ayesha says with a bitter laugh. There’s no anger on her face, just disappointment. She continues calmly, “When I needed society’s support the most, they abandoned me. They excluded me from family functions. They attacked my character. That defamation broke me. My mental health deteriorated. I started getting dizzy. I lost track of what was happening around me. My daughter needed her mother’s milk, but the stress dried it up within a month. It was such an injustice to her. My weight shot past 100 kilos. I developed thyroid issues, diabetes, and high blood pressure. We didn’t even have money for food. My father has some farmland, but no other income. People kept saying I had so much money—well, I’m still waiting for it. Maybe someone’s words will come true,” she says, laughing at her situation. It’s clear Ayesha has found the strength to smile despite her circumstances.

Even two years later, in August 2025, when we met, the financial struggle persists. Her father was hospitalised again. To manage the back-and-forth between hospital and home, her family moved to her uncle’s place in Miraj. Her father’s sugar levels were high, and his mental health had deteriorated too. Ayesha is trying to cope. She wonders if Nurul were alive, would she have to live this nomadic life. She’s also frustrated that she hasn’t gotten enough information about her husband’s case. She had to use her contacts to even get the charge sheet.

As she tries to move forward, Ayesha faces more challenges. “If I’m happy, people say I’m enjoying life after my husband’s death because I got money. If I’m sad, they say it is only because I didn’t get my in-laws’ property. If I focus on my daughter, they say I’m not interested in my husband’s case. People talk from all sides, and I don’t have the strength to explain myself anymore. I feel so alone. I can’t even work right now. My daughter is 18 months old. She’d be alone too. I worry about her. I don’t want her to grow up hating Hindus. I don’t want her to waste her energy on hate. That’s why I’ve started preparing for the JMFC exam. The environment around Ayesha is always tense and negative. I tried to find a house in Karad or Sangli, leaving my village, Rajachi Kurle. But as soon as people hear I’m from Pusesavali or Nurul Hasan’s widow, they say no. Being Muslim and a single mother doesn’t help. I’ve been looking for a house for four months. How do I describe the pain of rejection? Some say no one rents to Muslims after the Pahalgam attack. But my husband was killed here—how dare anyone say that? These experiences have broken me. People often say if Nurul hadn’t gone to confront those people, he wouldn’t have died. So, the attackers, the violent ones, aren’t at fault, but he is to be blamed for taking to task his so-called friends? It’s such an easy blame game. Nurul was a great friend, a great partner. He helped with my work and took care of me. I lost such a person. That pain will always stay. But let me tell you…”

Ayesha takes a deep breath and says, “I’m tired of being seen as a victim or a gold digger. Pusesavali’s incident and the label of Nurul’s widow have stamped my life. I want to change that image. I may fail as a wife, but I won’t fail as a mother. People keep looking at me through that same lens. When I try to move forward, they tie that image to my feet like a burden. It causes me so much mental pain.”

Samreen Pathan: Holding on Through Loneliness

Samreen and Aamir had been married for three years. They have a two-year-old daughter. Samreen works as an assistant manager at a bank, while Aamir was a relationship officer at a telecom company. Both were from Latur, and both had jobs there. But eight or ten months ago, Samreen got a job at a different bank’s branch in Dharashiv. Aamir, not wanting her career to stall, didn’t care about his own job and moved to Dharashiv with her. Once Samreen settled into her routine there, he returned to Latur for work, taking their daughter along. Samreen wasn’t used to living alone, having grown up in a big family. So, she’d come to Latur every weekend, spend two days with them, and return to work. Samreen says, “I’d wake up early, go to the office, meet clients, and spend weekends together. That was our routine. For years, we heard about the growing Hindu-Muslim tension and hatred in society, but it never touched our lives. Aamir’s closest friends were Hindus. At my office, we all worked together harmoniously. No big fights, no complaints, nothing. Everything was peaceful, simple, friendly. But now, something feels different. This incident shocked us. We were happy in our own world. Why us?” she asks, her voice heavy with pain, before falling silent for a moment. Even meeting her in Dharashiv wasn’t easy—she wasn’t eager to talk. It’s understandable. Reliving those memories, retelling her story, is exhausting. The police’s mishandling of her complaint only adds to her distress. When we met at her bank’s premises, Samreen, barely looking thirty, wore simple clothes and glasses. She buries her grief in work, pulling herself forward for the next day.

Since Aamir’s suicide, sleep has been hard for Samreen. The incident left him deeply traumatized, and his suicide is clear proof of that. Samreen recalls, “That day, I was nearing Latur and called him to pick me up. The bus stops at Maidan Chowk, where I was getting off. He’d reached the chowk on his scooter, crossing the road. A local journalist was driving by. Aamir signalled to him, ‘Wait two minutes, let me cross.’ But that hurt the journalist’s ego.” Samreen starts recounting that day’s conversation. The shouting, the voices, still create a fearful tension in her mind. It was a regular Saturday, a routine return to her hometown to see her family and daughter, to recharge and go back to work. A predictable, peaceful routine. But that evening was different. Samreen continues, “The journalist got out of his car, parked it in the middle of the road, and started beating my husband. He asked, ‘What’s your name?’ Aamir said, ‘Aamir Pathan.’ The journalist sneered, ‘What, you think you’re some big Aamir? You’re a Pakistani, a Kashmiri, unfit to live in this country.’ Then he kept hitting him, yanked his pants, took photos, and recorded videos. ‘I’m a journalist,’ he said. ‘This will be in the papers.’ I was on the phone, hearing it all. I asked who he was talking to. I could hear Aamir’s voice, shouting, ‘What did I do wrong? Why are you hitting me?’” The incident happened on May 4, 2025 and was reported a few days later.

The incident left Aamir under immense stress. He was terrified the journalist would call him a terrorist or worse in the next day’s paper. He wanted to file a police complaint but lacked the courage. He called friends for help, telling them what happened. No one responded positively. They told him not to make a big deal, to let it go, or they’d see about it later. The beating had already scared him, but the fact that a stranger could threaten and humiliate him, and his close friends didn’t care, hurt him deeply. The journalist had yanked his pants so hard it caused physical discomfort. Aamir kept telling Samreen about it. She says, “Until 2 a.m., he was on his phone, searching for information about the journalist. At 6 a.m., he checked the papers, worried something was printed against him, calling him a Pakistani. He was so scared. The stress lasted till afternoon. His scooter was damaged, so he got it fixed. We were supposed to attend a reception that evening. He said, ‘Go ahead, I’ll rest and join you.’ When we got there, his phone wasn’t reachable. My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and I returned home, only to find he’d taken his life.” Samreen, trying to stay strong, has tears in her eyes. She complains the police delayed action. The journalist was influential, connected to politicians, so they wouldn’t take her complaint. The next day, they went to the station at 9 a.m., but the police kept them waiting until 6 p.m., asking for CCTV footage and more. Samreen says, “The police said they’d register a suicide case but wouldn’t mention ‘Pakistani’ or ‘Kashmiri.’ We gave them the car’s number, but they refused to name the journalist in the complaint. We didn’t even know who he was at first. It feels like the police helped him escape by delaying. It affected me deeply. At first, it was unbearable. Now, I feel nothing. Everything’s numb. People come, ask questions, gather information, but no one truly helps. I have no expectations anymore, especially from the police. They suppressed everything. Some even accused us, saying we had political connections and were framing the journalist. The thief calling us liars! We lost our loved one, and we’re the ones filing a complaint?” Her anger peaks as she speaks, her frustration clear in every word. Recalling it chokes her up. She steadies herself and continues, “If I keep thinking about this, how willI run my home? I bury myself in work. Otherwise, I’d have collapsed completely. Evenings make me restless, especially between 8 and 9 p.m. Sundays feel unbearable now. I feel so alone. But I hold on for my daughter.”

Samreen now lives alone with her daughter in Dharashiv. Her mother helps care for the child, but Samreen expects nothing from anyone. “There’s no one to share your pain with. Sometimes, I wish it never happened, like waking from a bad dream to a normal day. Aamir was so good. He’d say, ‘Do what you want, I’m with you,’ and he proved it. Now, there’s only loneliness.”

Ayesha and Samreen, both in their thirties, were busy weaving dreams of family, children, a new life, and stability. They had little sense of the hatred and violence beyond their safe world. Even if such things existed, they felt far away. They lived in a space of harmony, believing no harm could touch them.

What to serve for dinner to men returning from work?

Vishalgad-Gajapur, in Kolhapur’s Shahuwadi taluka, is a cluster gram panchayat. It includes the fort’s village, Gajapur’s Muslimwadi, Vanipeth, Sainath Peth, Baudhwadi, Kembhurnewadi, Bhattali, and small hamlets stretching to Pavan Khindi. The road from Pandhrepani to Gajapur winds through dense forests, with the Kasari dam’s water on one side. The area is breezy year-round but remote, with poor phone connectivity. Naturally, job opportunities are scarce. The main sources of income are tourism and visitors to the local dargah. But violence causes more than just human loss—it devastates livelihoods. The tourism that sustained these remote hamlets has collapsed, and rumours about safety have spread. When the economic balance crumbles, the burden falls on women. Whether a man earns enough or not, feeding the family is a woman’s responsibility, and the stress of figuring out what to cook weighs heavily on them. Shaheen Mujawar explains, “There’s never been tension among locals in Vishalgad’s villages. Even now, communities support each other. But for the last two or three years, the atmosphere has been deliberately poisoned. There’s a court case about encroachments on Vishalgad, yet mobs from outside came and disrupted everything. Worst of all, jobs have vanished. Families have left these hamlets for work elsewhere, facing burdens from rent to household expenses. Children’s schools have been disrupted or changed. Income and expenses don’t align, making it hard for women to run households. People literally don’t have money for salt. If the gas runs out, they wonder who to turn to. Men face work stress, so women can’t tell them about grocery shortages. Every day, they wake up wondering what to cook. By evening, they hope their man comes home, but they dread him asking for food because they don’t know what to offer. Many of us aren’t used to working outside, and some families don’t allow it. If we’re not safe at home, how can we face harassment outside as Muslims?”

A fact-finding report by Salokha Sampark Gat, the Centre for Study of Society and Secularism, and Women’s Struggle for Peace details the violence in Vishalgad and Gajapur on July 14, 2024. It describes the physical, mental, and economic toll, with chilling accounts from Muslimwadi’s women. That day, most men were away for work, leaving elderly people, women, and children behind. The report notes: “Women in Muslimwadi faced terror all day. A mob armed with knives and hammers stormed in. As they pounded on doors, women barricaded them with sofas, chairs, and beds to keep them out. To stop children from crying, women stuffed cloth in their mouths to keep them quiet. Attackers broke doors, entered homes, and smashed everything—TVs, fridges, mixers, beds, chairs, mattresses. They left nothing intact. Scooters and vehicles were smashed with stones and hammers. Six scooters outside one house were piled up and burned. Fifteen to twenty men invaded each home, breaking windows, tearing roofs, burning clothes. Kitchen supplies—grain, flour, food—were thrown out. The entire settlement was destroyed. Women watched their life’s work turn to dust in moments. Attackers asked women their names, insulting those with Muslim names. One woman gave a Hindu name, but when they demanded her Aadhaar card and she didn’t have it, she locked herself inside. They broke the door, entered, and beat her. Reshma Prabhulkar, who runs a small bangle and clothing shop next to her house, didn’t open her door. The mob broke into her shop, detonated her cooking gas cylinder, and set her home’s contents ablaze.” Even without deaths, such incidents push women into a shell, layering pressure on them—worrying about their men’s safety, then their own. Women who’ve fought for freedom retreat, prioritizing others over themselves. This can lead to clinging to religious norms or societal pressures, starting a cycle of isolation, suppression, and disconnection from society, harming their mental health.

Rehana Mursal from Shantisathi Mahila Sangharsh Manch (Women’s Struggle for Peace) shared a haunting observation: “Visiting homes in Gajapur and Vishalgad, I saw children clutching their mothers’ saree ends and stuffing them in their mouths. When I asked why, the women said that during the attack, as men were beaten outside, children hiding with their mothers understood what was happening. Terrified and trembling, they wanted to scream. To keep their hiding spots secret, mothers stuffed saree or scarf ends in their children’s mouths to silence them. The kids struggled to breathe, but the cloth stayed until the chaos subsided. Now, scared children do this themselves when strangers come, stuffing their mothers’ sarees in their mouths. What kind of present and future are we giving these kids? How do we erase this trauma?”

Talking to Ayesha, Samreen, and the women of Vishalgad-Gajapur, one thing stood out: Islamophobia and patriarchy leave Muslim women isolated. Ayesha and Samreen both lost their in-laws’ support—treated as irrelevant once their husbands died. Their Muslim identity made filing complaints difficult, and they were kept away from their cases. They’ve had to take on family responsibilities, including jobs, while raising children alone. Financial strain suffocates them. Women wearing hijabs or burqas face barriers in education and jobs. Such incidents create fear, stopping bold girls from stepping out. Muslim vendors face boycotts, crippling their businesses. Finding homes is tough, with Muslims facing discrimination. Workers endure unequal treatment. Amid these social injustices, mental health is side-lined. The fear, loneliness, and constant vigilance Muslim women face are deep scars of communalism, yet these emotional wounds are rarely discussed.

From Social Othering to Social Suffering

These incidents may seem rare, sparking debates about why discuss them. But in recent years, Muslims, especially men, have been systematically targeted. Hate speeches, calls to displace Muslims, cow vigilantism, and mob killings are rising, as shown in the 2024 India Hate Lab and Hate Crime Report: Mapping First Year of Modi’s Third Government. These reports highlight how anti-Muslim hatred is growing organised, political, and normalised. India Hate Lab recorded 1,165 hate speech incidents in 2024, with 1,050 targeting Muslims, occurring in political rallies, religious processions, and election campaigns. Of these, 266 involved BJP leaders. Terms like “love jihad,” “land jihad,” and “vote jihad” were joined by new ones like “mazar jihad,” “UPSC jihad,” “fertilizer jihad,” and “rail jihad,” spreading false narratives to fuel hatred. Uttar Pradesh saw the most incidents (242, up 132% from last year), followed by Maharashtra with 210 hate speech cases, a 78% rise from 118 in 2023. Of Maharashtra’s cases, 195 targeted Muslims, 14 targeted both Muslims and Christians, and one was anti-Christian. May’s Lok Sabha elections and November’s assembly elections saw peaks, with 32 incidents in May alone. Political leaders and Hindu nationalist groups used these periods to inflame religious sentiments. From August to November, 90 incidents were recorded.

The Hate Crime Report notes 947 hate crimes from June 2024 to June 2025, including 602 violent incidents. In 173 mob attacks, 25 Muslim men died. Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra were particularly sensitive. Maharashtra saw 101 hate speeches, with 178 by BJP-linked leaders, including the Prime Minister, Chief Ministers, MPs, and others. Of 947 hate crimes, only 81 (13%) led to FIRs, and no political leaders faced action. These are just recorded cases—unreported ones are unknown. The data shows hate is being normalized, a worrying trend.

Mental health discussions for families affected by riots, violence, and hate speech often focus on post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), noting symptoms like depression, insomnia, or lack of focus. But the broader societal impact is ignored. The “social othering” from religious divides and its mental toll are overlooked. Mental health can’t be separated from daily life’s small and big struggles. Bebaak Collective’s report, Social Suffering in a World without Support: Report on Mental Health of Indian Muslims, highlights this. Researcher and founder Hasina Khan says, “Studying religious and social hatred, we realized Indian Muslims’ mental health reflects political oppression and societal hate. Talking to victims of hate crimes and riots, we saw that discussing emotions, habits, and relationships reveals how communalism changes Muslim lives. Mental health studies can’t stop at PTSD or depression. Violence affects daily life, so we must understand its impact on future aspirations, financial security, and health. Muslim mental health isn’t just about communalism—it underscores everyday exclusion. Some faced physical effects: one family member had a heart attack, another victim’s mother lost her sanity. Women’s mobility is restricted, they grow isolated, neighbors drift away, friends from their own and other communities shrink back. Youth face future anxiety, leading to depression. Activists feel fear and despair, grappling with helplessness and stress. Constant vigilance in public spaces harms mental health, yet it’s rarely discussed.” Mental health expert Shamima Asgar adds, “Clinical mental health approaches are individual-focused, addressing personal pain and trauma but not the root causes of violence. Instead, the focus is on coping with its effects, implying the violence will persist, and you must adapt.” In short, addressing the problem requires tackling its roots, viewing Muslim mental health as social suffering.

Hasina’s point is key: religiously motivated violence and inflammatory speeches are politically driven, a tool of oppression. When such attacks come from institutions, who takes responsibility? The institutions themselves should, as Muslims are citizens under their care. Preventing injustices, mob deaths, and attacks is their duty, as is supporting victims afterward. Otherwise, how will affected families and women stand again? Trauma needs support. Women whose lives are upended by religious hatred need space to express their pain freely and a chance to move forward. Samreen sees her busy life as healing. Mental health taboos often stop women from seeking counselling or therapy, so it should be offered at a government level. Ayesha was encouraged by Satara’s rural police superintendent to try therapy. She says, “I had no idea about counselling or therapy. I thought I was strong. The way I handled things, spoke, and acted made me think I was fine. But therapy showed me I was bottling up my pain. I didn’t even know how much I’d suppressed. I had headaches, irritability, and despair. Sometimes, I felt nothing, like I was numb. The world talked about my tragedy, but I seemed strong on the outside. Therapy taught me I hadn’t moved past the shock. It helped me accept it slowly. Five or six months later, I cried openly for the first time. My heart felt lighter. I realized I needed to think about what’s next, how to live. The stress is temporary. What’s permanent? My daughter. She’s, my anchor.” Ayesha got help, but not from the government.

Improving mental health requires concrete steps at social, political, and legal levels. Rehana Mursal and Hasina Khan suggest permanent peace committees and administrative systems in every district to prevent violence and promote unity. Civil groups should monitor justice systems, support victims, and pressure authorities to act against perpetrators. The National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) and Minority Commission (NCM) should investigate alongside police to ensure justice. State governments should compensate victims of hate crimes. Local groups, women’s collectives, and organizations should offer emotional support and safe spaces. Counselling and trauma care should be available in Muslim-majority areas. Health workers need training to handle hate crime victims sensitively. Mental health experts should study the impact of class, caste, and religion on health, and mental health laws must be actively enforced.

Reflecting on Hasina’s words, we can’t ignore changes in emotions, behaviour, and relationships. How do we fix or undo them? When Samreen’s daughter asks when her father will return, what can she say? “We had our routine,” she said, hinting at the joy it brought. Yet, when she called her mother-in-law to stay with her, their avoidance hurt her. How do you compensate for the time needed to process this? Still, Samreen says, “I’ve accepted he’s not coming back. I live for my daughter.” Ayesha echoed this: “Even after marriage, I wasn’t very mature. I was a silly, carefree girl, always laughing, lost in dreams. Nurul let me be that way. Then this mountain of tragedy hit. It made me serious, wiped out my carefree nature. I struggled to accept that change, but now I have. My daughter matters most.” Should we call it good or bad that the daughters these mothers strive for are shielded from reality? Just then, Ashnoor grabbed Ayesha’s phone, pointing at her father’s photo, calling him “Abbu.” She recognizes him, but what will she think when she learns why he’s gone? Unknowingly, the system has made her part of this social suffering. What should she and other children like her do with this pain? In a society where religion overshadows humanity, it feels like we’re all casting shadows of hate. If we can, let’s pull our hands back.

Related:

CJP complains to Maharashtra DGP, Jalgaon SP over police role in Shiv Pratisthan rally amid Suleman Pathan lynching probe

Muslims, victims of targeted violence in Pusesavali, Satara: Fact-finding report

Pay compensation to Nurul Hasan Shikalgar’s family, order independent judicial inquiry: Satara Citizens to Maharashtra Govt

Why no action against hate monger, BJP leader, Vikram Pawaskar asks Bombay HC

Activists highlight decimated situation of Muslim houses, shops in Gajapur, Kolhapur post violence, deem authorities to be guilty of negligence

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The post Silent Scars: How Muslim widows of hate crimes endure layered, unseen oppression appeared first on SabrangIndia.

A Division Bench comprising Chief Justice G. Narendar and Justice Subhash Upadhyay, while hearing Noor Jahan v. State of Uttarakhand, on October 29, 2025, instructed the Investigating Officer (IO) to file an action taken report by November 6, and to remove any inflammatory social media posts related to the incident.

The court’s direction came in response to a protection petition filed by Noor Jahan, the wife of Nasir, a local driver who was brutally assaulted on October 23 after rumours spread that he was transporting beef in his vehicle. The petition alleges that Madan Joshi, a local BJP leader and former president of the party’s Ramnagar City Unit, went live on Facebook, falsely claiming that cow meat was being transported — an act that allegedly incited a mob to attack Nasir.

“Lawlessness in Full Display”: Petitioner seeks CBI probe and police protection

According to the petition, reported by LiveLaw, Nasir’s vehicle was stopped by a crowd incited through Joshi’s Facebook Live. The mob allegedly dragged Nasir out, beat him with stones and kicks, and livestreamed the assault. Instead of rushing him to a hospital, the police are accused of taking the severely injured man to the police station first.

Noor Jahan described the episode as “a glaring example of complete lawlessness,” adding that it represented “cow vigilantism in utter disregard of the Supreme Court’s directions in Tehseen S. Poonawalla v. Union of India (2018).” She also claimed that since the incident, her family had been receiving threats of dire consequences from unidentified persons.

The plea sought a CBI investigation, police protection, and strict enforcement of the Supreme Court’s mob-lynching guidelines, along with compensation for her husband, who continues to receive treatment for severe injuries.

High Court’s order

The High Court’s order, though brief, is a sharp indictment of selective law enforcement and impunity in cases involving political actors. While the Deputy Advocate General informed the Bench that two of the assailants had been arrested, the Court pressed for a full update on the investigation and warned that compliance on removal of inflammatory posts must be shown at the next hearing.

The case will now be taken up on November 6, 2025, when the police are required to submit their action taken report. The Bench’s insistence on immediate removal of hate content marks an important judicial intervention in the digital dimension of communal violence — where misinformation and Facebook Live broadcasts often act as catalysts for mob action.

Selective accountability

The Ramnagar attack adds to a growing pattern of cow-vigilante violence in Uttarakhand’s Kumaon region, where rumours and Facebook Live videos frequently precede communal flare-ups. As Citizens for Justice and Peace has documented, local vigilante groups often operate under tacit political patronage, with little deterrence from police.

The petition cites the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in Tehseen S. Poonawalla v. Union of India (2018), which mandated states to curb mob lynching, appoint nodal officers, and ensure prompt FIRs and victim protection. Yet, as Noor Jahan’s case reveals, implementation remains largely on paper.

The High Court’s intervention also reignites a broader question — why politicians accused of hate or incitement rarely face swift prosecution, even when evidence is public. While citizens, journalists, and activists are often booked for online speech, leaders accused of fanning communal hatred enjoy impunity. As legal commentators note, this “selective policing of speech” corrodes faith in the rule of law.

The complete order may be read here.

Related:

Madhya Pradesh Muslim man lynched in Rajasthan’s Bhilwara: Family alleges religious targeting masked as cow vigilantism

Rising Cow Vigilante Violence: Muslim truck drivers targeted across states amid police inaction

2024: July and August see surge in cow vigilantism with brutal assaults, raids based on rumours and targeting of Muslims while legal consequences for perpetrators missing

November 2024 Surge in Cow Vigilantism: Rising Violence and Legal Apathy in North India

The post Uttarakhand HC pulls up police over mob attack in Ramnagar, seeks action against BJP leader for inciting communal violence appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The dissonance between a lived experience and official data is not new. It showcases how the language of state statistics can redefine brutality in state bureaucracy. By detaching violence from motive and identity, the NCRB articulates a false sense of neutrality, one that ultimately offers protection for both state and non-state actors.

The issue lies not in the numbers themselves, but rather in the methodology through which they are presented. The NCRB statistics are based on registered crimes, not the actual incidence of crime. Changes in reporting or policing can significantly influence the figures. The current structure and functioning of India’s police force render it vulnerable to diktats (ideological and other) from the state executive, ensuring that crimes, especially hate crimes against India’s most marginalized, Minorities and Dalits, sometimes women, remain buried. Conversely, higher crime numbers (for such crimes) in some states may reflect citizen-centric, pro-constitutional, police initiatives rather than an actual spiral or increase in crime.

In 2023, the country experienced the longest span of ethnic violence in its contemporary history when Meitei and Kuki–Zo communities mobilized against one another in Manipur. Life lost and displacement suffered by the Kuki-Zo were marked and significant. Kuki women experienced the brunt of gendered targeted violence at the hands of the other community and law enforcement. Yet, for the NCRB, hundreds of pages of the report yield only a handful of cases of “rioting” and “arson.” And what cannot be articulated in a statistic cannot be held accountable in law.

The Language of Neutrality

Over time, the NCRB has—instead of acquiring an autonomous rigour and credibility– grown into a reflection of a majoritarian state’s unease with terms such as communal, ethnic, or targeted violence. You won’t find such terms of classification in the 2023 report. The words used are “riots,” “group clashes,” and “public disorder.” This is not merely playing with words, but rather moral repositioning. By using terms such as “communal” and “ethnic,” motive is acknowledged, and therefore, responsibility. In contrast, “rioting” makes violence seem spontaneous and even-handed!

This kind of linguistic strategy is being increasingly normalised. In 2017, the NCRB surreptitiously removed its specific sections “communal and social violence,” “mob lynchings,” and “honour killings.” Officials defended their actions by stating that states were providing inconsistent data. The outcome of this was an administrative silence, allowing governments to claim hate crimes were falling when, in fact, they are just not being officially documented. Initially, data classification soon became a political shield. Without naming hate, India’s crime data reads now like a bureaucratic novel: correct, procedural, and utterly dissociated from reality.

In this case, neutrality does not refer to having no opinion. It refers to being complicit through action. Omission of the name the state uses for targeted violence does not depoliticize criminality; it simply conceals the injustice of violence and hate crimes being perpetrated.

A Pattern written in History

The NCRB’s refusal to report hate and communal crimes in 2023 is not a new practice. This is simply a reiteration of a policy first established in 2017, when the Union government acknowledged in Parliament that, due to state governments’ “unreliable inputs,” it would stop collecting data on “lynching” and “hate crimes.” This bureaucratic explanation has since served as the basis for the Republic’s statistical loss of memory.

By the year 2023, while the increase in targeted violence in India was expected, the Bureau’s tables did not reflect much of anything. The Centre for Study of Society and Secularism (CSSS) tracked 21 mob-lynchings in 2023, representing a 23% increase from 2022 The CSSS report can be read here  Of these incidents, twelve were related to allegations of cow slaughter, two related to interfaith relationships, and nearly all of the victims were Muslim. For example, in Bharatpur in Rajasthan, 35-year-old Nasir and 25-year-old Junaid were kidnapped and burned alive in February 2022 by people said to be affiliated with the Bajrang Dal. In Bhopal in July, two cattle traders were lynched for being suspected to be transporting beef, an inappropriate standard of evidence. Neither case shows up under any communal category in the NCRB 2023 tables: both fold quietly into “murder” and “rioting.”

The same narrative can be found across the nation. In Kolhapur, for instance, a Dalit youth was beaten to death based on rumours about “religious insult.” In Ramgarh, Jharkhand, a mob killed a tribal man, accused of theft. The CSSS report noted that the violence was accompanied by hate speech and communal harassment. The report adds that this kind of violence is smaller-scale and does not fit within the category of violence documented by the NCRB’s rather narrow definitions. Ultimately, the data architecture favours an emphasis on procedural clarity at the expense of human truth.

In another incident in Maharashtra’s Satara district in August 2023, a single social media post mocking a Hindu god led to two days of violent conflict. Two people were killed, approximately 100 were injured, and businesses owned by Muslims were targeted. But if one looks in the NCRB ledger, a single entry gathers the Satara episode with every other instance of what NCRB has recorded as “rioting.” There is nothing to suggest the motive was religious; no record of what happened next; no note of the fact that the riot occurred on established communal lines.

The NCRB’s avoidance of the caption of motive is not unlike the state’s avoidance of calling out hate. Where communal violence once barely allowed for reckoning about the moral heart of the atrocity, instead it is now public disorder. This linguistic flattening eliminates not only the prejudice underlying the violence, but also the impunity enabling it.

Manipur: A Case Study

In 2023, Manipur became the clearest example of how violence can happen in public view and disappear from the official records. On May 3, 2023, a protest was launched by the All Tribal Students’ Union of Manipur (ATSUM) against a court directive to recommend Scheduled Tribe status for the Meiteis, and it quickly transformed into a spiral of armed ethnic conflict between the Meitei majority of the Imphal Valley and the Kuki–Zo tribal communities of the hills.

The violence swept the villages and towns with historic severity. Mobs burned homes, churches, and community centres. Independent estimates from the Hindu, Scroll, and Sabrangindia indicated that over 200 people were killed, over 60,000 displaced, and approximately 5,000 houses burned down. Entire communities disappeared; satellite images confirmed the damage. Over 350 churches and several temples were daubed and destroyed, highlighting the sectarian edge of the violence.

For months, the state was essentially divided into two: Imphal with its Meitei surplus on one hand and the hill districts on the other. There was a complete internet shutdown for over 200 days, severing survivors from aid networks and reporters from the outside world. Civil society and reporters who attempted to document the torture perpetrated by armed forces faced threats and FIRs for their expressions. Still, the reports of rape, sexual violence, women stripped and paraded through the streets to cheers from the crowds, filming as soldiers carried out any forms of violence, remained concealed. Only when a viral video found its way into social media in July 2023, a good three months after the first outbreak, did India’s national conscience briefly awaken to the abuses, and forced the SC to intervene to provide the state some accountability.

In the NCRB 2023 report, however, all of this collapses into a few rows of data. Manipur shows just a few dozen “rioting” cases and scattered cases of “arson”, nothing that would even suggest that a state had descended into a type of civil war. No mention of mass displacement, custodial abuses, or gendered violence. This silence is not incidental; it is institutional. The NCRB is merely flattening ethnic cleansing cited through “law and order disturbances” and provides a bureaucratic alibi for one of the worst governance failures in recent memory.

The Geography of Denial

If the NCRB’s omissions were haphazard, they might be brushed off as misprints. However, the odious erosion is visible across a vast geographical area. In 2023, the India Hate Lab noted 378 incidents of hate speech and hate crime ( CJP Report based on Hate Lab 2023 – Study reveals 668 hate speech cases in 2023, BJP major player), with Uttar Pradesh (62), Maharashtra (42), Bihar (34), and Madhya Pradesh (28) highest on the list. Each of these states also noted “declines” in the NCRB data for “Offences Promoting Enmity”.

Examine Haryana, where riots erupted in Nuh during a religious procession on 31 July 2023. Six died, 200 were arrested, and bulldozers crushed a number of Muslim homes in “retaliation”. The NCRB, by contrast, categorises the outrage as “rioting” without even insinuating it was communal or that the demolitions were punitive. The numbers create an illusion of symmetry — as if both sides were violent, both guilty, and both punished.

In Delhi, more than twenty public rallies were documented during the months of February and August 2023, with hate slogans. Nevertheless, the NCRB notes a decline in “Offences Promoting Enmity Between Groups” – a decline from 231 in 2022 to 194 in 2023. If the absence of numbers is not demonstrated evidence of peace, it is an established case of selective factual erasure.

Even the desecration of religious sites – like an attack on St. Michael’s cemetery in Mahim, Mumbai, in January 2023, when 18 crosses were defaced – does not even make “religious offences”, which are non-existent in the NCRB figures. These types of harassment, which obviously relate to religious identity, are absorbed into the property crime statistics.

The data from Jammu & Kashmir is close to surreal. NCRB 2023 records zero cases of sedition or communal violence, despite the Union Home Ministry stating in Parliament that over 230 people were detained under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) in the same calendar year. This tranquillity reflects not peace, but policy in action – the imposition of normalcy through erasure.

When Counting Conceals

The exclusions in the 2023 report, when evaluated in conjunction with each other, prioritized overt intent over deficiencies in capacity. By outright removing categories such as “hate crime” and “mob lynching,” the state is able to absorb violent acts based on religion, caste, or ideology into broadly neutral categories. While the crime may still be recorded, its cause is erased. The foundation of hate crime — the identity of the victim — is swept away from the record.

This administrative erasure dramatically exceeds the parameters of the chart. It alters public discourse, limits accountability, and relieves the state of its obligation to protect. When violence is relabelled rioting, the victims are stripped of recognition; when hate speech is recoded as “public mischief,” performers possess plausible deniability.

In the NCRB’s framework for 2023, there are the demolitions in Haryana, the ethnic murders in Manipur, the lynching deaths in Bharatpur, and the “riots” in Satara all clubbed into the same “neutral labelling.” The motive behind the violence is absent; all we are left with is a ledger of something resembling lawlessness, which tells us nothing about the injustices inflicted.

The statistics of the NCRB are not indicators of safety but of silence. Every statistic contains a choice — what to include, how to rename, and what to omit. This much is clear: the Bureau’s neutrality is not objectivity but ideology — a way of regulating how we think, and bringing about tranquillity through the absence of visible conflict.

A Nation without Witnesses

When the NCRB came out with its 2023 report, it was apparent that India’s data regime had transitioned from being an instrument of transparency to an apparatus for denial. The numbers corroborate what human rights organizations, journalists, and survivors have reported: that violence in India is not simply physical but epistemic — a battle over who gets to be viewed, tagged, and remembered.

Not having lynching, hate crime, or communal violence as categories is more than an oversight; it is political. In a democracy founded on data as a bedrock of policy, invisibility serves as a way to maintain control. As crimes are recorded, the government looks safer with fewer recorded instances.

This is the irony of modern India: a country in which the spreadsheet of data silencing has replaced the FIR; the number of riots has decreased as the number of victims increases; and the act of counting is now indicative of support for the machinery of impunity.

Here, the NCRB’s neutrality is not the neutrality of law, but of silence — a silence that indicates the price of counting, and the larger price of erasure.

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

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The post Statistical Amnesia: How Communal Violence Vanishes in NCRB 2023 appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Friday Night, October 3: The first clash

The unrest ignited around 1:30 a.m. on October 4, during the Durga idol immersion procession near Haathi Pokhari in the Dargha Bazar area, a predominantly Muslim neighbourhood known for its tight-knit interfaith community, as per Times of India. Residents objected to the loud music and provocative slogans, including repeated chants of “Jai Shri Ram,” accompanying the procession heading towards the Kathajodi river, as reported by India Today. Traditionally this slogan has no place during Durga Puja and has been perceived to be linked to an aggressive majoritarianism.

Minor verbal disagreements quickly escalated into violence. Stones and glass bottles were hurled from rooftops, injuring at least six people, including Deputy Commissioner of Police Khilari Rishikesh Dnyandeo, ANI reported. Local grocer Mohammad Asif told reporters that while the initial scuffle had been contained, “all of them were drunk. We pacified both groups, but it later escalated”, as per Hindustan Times. Rumours of Hindu fatalities circulating in the aftermath further inflamed passions, setting the stage for larger-scale clashes.

Six police personnel were injured in the initial violence, and six individuals from both communities were arrested, NDTV report states. The situation cast a pall over the city, reviving memories of past curfews, notably the last major shutdown during the Mandal Commission protests in 1991, as noted by former MLA Pravat Tripathy, according to Moneycontrol.

Sunday, October 5: VHP rally and widespread violence

Tensions further escalated on Sunday evening, October 5, when the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) organised a large motorcycle rally—allegedly numbering over 2,000 participants on more than 1,000 bikes—to protest the earlier Dargha Bazar clashes, as per India Today. Authorities had denied permission for the rally, citing concerns over law and order, but the organizers proceeded, intending to pass through the sensitive Dargha Bazar area. The permission granted for the route of the VHP rally has been questioned by right-thinking citizens.

Initially, police allowed the rallyists to assemble near the area. However, once law enforcement attempted to redirect them, the rally escalated into rampage and vandalism. Protesters stormed a local mall, vandalized shops—including mutton stalls, food joints, and general stores—and torched roadside establishments. Stone-pelting and clashes with police followed, leaving 25 people injured, including eight police officers, according to Hindustan Times.

Videos circulating on social media before the internet suspension showed plumes of smoke rising over the narrow lanes of Dargha Bazar, with police in riot gear forming barricades amid screams and sirens, as per India Today.

Government Response: Curfew, internet suspension, and law enforcement measures

In the aftermath of Sunday’s violence, the Odisha government responded with stringent measures:

• A 36-hour curfew across 13 police station jurisdictions, including Dargha Bazar, Mangalabag, Cantonment, Purighat, Lal Bagh, Bidanasi, Markat Nagar, CDA Phase 2, Malgodam, Badambadi, Jagatpur, Bayalis Mouza, and Sadar (ANI).
• Internet and social media suspension from 7 p.m. on October 5 to 7 p.m. on October 6, covering the Cuttack Municipal Corporation, Cuttack Development Authority, and 42 adjacent Mauza areas, to prevent the spread of provocative content and rumours (NDTV).
• Continuous flag marches, drone surveillance, and enhanced patrolling across the city’s sensitive areas (PTI).

Additional Police Commissioner Narasingha Bhola confirmed that eight people had been arrested, with more under detention, and investigations involving CCTV and drone footage were ongoing, reported ANI. The authorities emphasised that arrests would follow “proper examination of evidence”.

Revenue Divisional Commissioner Guha Poonam Tapas Kumar issued a warning: “All people who have tried to take the law into their own hands will be booked… Anybody who has tried to damage the social fabric will be taken to task”, reported NDTV.

Monday, October 6: VHP bandh and a fragile peace

In response to the immersion violence, the VHP declared a 12-hour bandh on Monday, October 6. Under a heavy police presence, the bandh passed off peacefully, highlighting the effectiveness of the curfew and security measures, as reported by The Indian Express. Local officials noted that while the streets remained quiet, the city was grappling with fear and uncertainty, with residents reluctant to venture outdoors.

Mayor Subhas Singh underlined Cuttack’s “unique culture of Hindus and Muslims living as brothers for generations”, and called on all citizens to protect this communal harmony, as per NDTV. Cuttack MP Bhartruhari Mahatab, BJD Chief Naveen Patnaik, Congress MLA Sophia Firdous, and Union Minister Dharmendra Pradhan issued repeated appeals for peace, stressing that rumours and inflammatory social media posts must be avoided, reported Hindustan Times.

ANI provided that several injured individuals from Friday and Sunday, including Pintu Mahar, Mukesh Mahar, Subhashree Jena, and Sankar Biswal, were treated and discharged, with the police clarifying that no fatalities had occurred.

Background: Communal sensitivities in Odisha

While Cuttack has historically been a model of interfaith coexistence, Odisha has witnessed a rise in communal tensions in recent years. Notable incidents include:

• Attacks on Christians and harassment of nuns (SabrangIndia)
• Clashes during processions in urban centres like Bhubaneswar, Sambalpur, and Cuttack (Deccan Herald).
• Property damage and arson during festivals, often exacerbated by rumours, demographic shifts, and political tensions (Hindustan Times).

The 2008 Kandhamal riots represent the most severe anti-Christian violence, but even post-2023, Hindu-Muslim tensions have increased. In 2024 alone, Odisha recorded an 84% rise in communal riots, resulting in 13 deaths, primarily among Muslims, Moneycontrol reported. The 2025 Cuttack disturbances underscore the vulnerabilities of religious processions in multi-religious urban settings. Small disputes—such as objections to music, slogans, or immersion routes—can quickly escalate if rumours or political mobilizations intervene.

Current Situation: Towards restoration of peace

As of October 7, Cuttack remains under curfew, and internet services have been extended to 7 p.m. on the same day, as per NDTV. Flag marches and intensive patrolling continue. Authorities have stressed that public cooperation is critical for restoring full normalcy.

Civil society leaders and residents expressed hope that Cuttack’s legacy of bhaichara (brotherhood) would be preserved through:

1. Strengthening law enforcement to prevent delayed or inadequate responses
2. Community engagement during festivals to foster trust and cooperation

1. Awareness campaigns to curb rumours and misinformation
2. Long-term measures addressing any fears of demographic shifts, economic inequalities, and resolving historical grievances

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The post Cuttack plunged into chaos during Durga Puja, dozens injured as procession clashes spiral into violence appeared first on SabrangIndia.

“When members of the police force don their uniforms, they are required to shed their personal predilections and biases, be they religious, racial, casteist or otherwise. They must be true to the call of duty attached to their office and their uniform with absolute and total integrity. Unfortunately, in the case on hand, this did not happen,” Justice Sanjay Kumar observed in the ruling, delivered by a Bench which also included Justice Satish Chandra Sharma.

Murder most foul, no FIR

The case was based on the complaints made by a teenager, Mohammad Afzal Mohammad Sharif, who allegedly witnessed four men — including one who was later identified to have political connections — fatally attacking a man in an autorickshaw during the May 2023 riots. The men, allegedly mistakenly assuming the boy was a Muslim, assaulted him and left him to die with head injuries.

It was after this incident that both Afzal and his father then went to the police station to file a complaint about the murder he witnessed and the assault on himself, but the police took no action. A subsequent appeal to the Superintendent of the Police (SP) of Akola also came to naught.  The murder victim was identified as Vilas Mahadevrao Gaikwad, who had been plying an autorickshaw owned by a Muslim. Afzal had claimed that Gaikwad was killed under the mistaken impression that he was a Muslim.

In 2023, two groups clashed in Akola, leading to the death of a man, over a social media post.

Sharif, who was a minor (17) at the time of the alleged incident, had earlier approached the Nagpur bench of the Bombay High Court complaining that the police officers concerned had failed in their duty by not registering an FIR with respect to the alleged attack and assault on him. He claimed that on his way back home that fateful night, he witnessed four unknown persons assaulting an autorickshaw driver. They then assaulted him, too, and damaged his vehicle. Sharif “asserted that he was an eyewitness to the murderous assault on the person in the auto rickshaw, whose name was revealed to him later as Vilas Mahadevrao Gaikwad.”

The petitioner also stated that it was well within the knowledge of the people of Akola that the deceased was plying the autorickshaw of a Muslim, which bore a sticker with the name “Garib Nawaz”. The appellant stated that under the mistaken identity/belief that the deceased was a Muslim, the four unknown assailants had caused his death and, thereafter, attacked him.

Sharif also told the SC that though an FIR was registered with respect to the murder of the autorickshaw driver, no FIR was registered over the alleged assault on him following which he approached the High Court, which dismissed his plea.

The SC said, “Though the affidavits filed by the police inspector of the Old City Police Station, Akola, tried to attribute motives to the appellant and the same was willingly accepted and acted upon by the High Court, we are not persuaded to agree at this stage. It was for the police to investigate the truth or otherwise of the specific allegations made by the appellant, a 17-year-old boy, who asserted that he was an eyewitness to the murder of Vilas Mahadevrao Gaikwad and was himself assaulted by the very same assailants.”

“If, in fact, the deceased was really murdered under the impression that he belonged to Muslim community and the assailants were not of that community, that was a fact that had to be ascertained after thorough and proper investigation. When the appellant claimed that he could identify one of the four assailants, that claim also required to be followed up with detailed investigation by ascertaining the location of the person so identified at the relevant time through mobile phone location, call data records, etc.,” the court said.

Negligence by the Police

Upset over the lack of progress in a case of alleged murder during the May 2023 communal riots over a social media post in Maharashtra’s Akola, the Supreme Court on Thursday directed setting up of a “a Special Investigation Team (SIT), comprising senior police officers of both Hindu and Muslim communities”.

“It was for the police to investigate the truth or otherwise of the specific allegations made by the appellant, a 17-year-old boy, who asserted that he was an eyewitness to the murder of Vilas Mahadevrao Gaikwad and was himself assaulted by the very same assailants… If, in fact, the deceased was really murdered under the impression that he belonged to Muslim community and the assailants were not of that community, that was a fact that had to be ascertained after thorough and proper investigation,” Justice Kumar pointed out.

The court took a stern view of the Akola SP’s failure to act on Afzal’s complaint, observing that “this conduct on the part of a superior police officer of no less a rank than a Superintendent of Police is indeed a cause for great concern”.

“Law requires, nay, ordains that its sentinels be vigilant, prompt and objective in enforcing and securing its mandate. To what extent the guardians of the law, viz., the police, discharge this task without bias and subjectivity is the question that arises in the case on hand,” the court noted.

SC orders SIT probe

Allowing an appeal by a witness in the case, Mohammad Afzal Mohammad Sharif, a bench of Justices Sanjay Kumar and S C Sharma said, the SC directed the Maharashtra Home Secretary to constitute an SIT comprising senior police officers of “both Hindu and Muslim communities, to undertake an investigation into all the allegations made by the appellant, by registering an FIR in connection with the assault upon him on May 13, 2023, and take appropriate action thereon as warranted”. Significantly, the court also ordered the placing on record of the SIT probe report in three months. The State Home Secretary was also directed to initiate appropriate disciplinary action against erring police officials for their “patent dereliction of duties”.

SC order can be read here.

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Hegemony and Demolitions: The Tale of Communal Riots in India in 2024

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The post Akola 2023 targeted violence: Police officers must shed communal colours when they put on their uniforms says Supreme Court appeared first on SabrangIndia.