It stands in sharp contrast to how India’s first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru intervened to get a scholarship for a young Irfan Habib in spite of the fact that he was member of communist party, faced some penal action from the Aligarh Muslim University for his activities.

The present case of shocking police action against Mahmudabad – putting him behind bars on very grave charges – over his posts needs a close look before putting it in the historical context of how Nehru helped Habib, who would go on to become a famous historian in the future.

Ali Khan Mahmudabad’s Facebook post

Mahmudabad, a young, bright and brilliant academic, was arrested by Haryana police on the grounds that his Facebook post on Operation Sindoor (conducted by Indian Army to deal with the threat of terrorism from Pakistan) among others, incited rebellion and hurt religious feelings.

Mahmudabad remarked in his post that the press briefings on Operation Sindoor conducted by colonel Sofiya Qureshi and wing commander Vyomika Singh were important and constituted good optics. While noting with satisfaction that many right wing commentators applauded colonel Qureshi, he boldly spelt out his concerns that the “optics” could be counted as “hypocrisy” if those commentors, in their role as Indian citizens failed in demanding equally loudly, the protection of “ the victims of mob lynchings, arbitrary bulldozing and others who are victims of the BJP’s hate mongering”.

He also referred to the example of a prominent Muslim politician who said “Pakistan Murdabad” and was trolled by Pakistanis and applauded by Indian right wing commentators hailing him as “our mulla”. “Of course this is funny” remarked Mahmudabad and observed with sadness “but it also points to just how deep communalism has managed to infect the Indian body politic.”

However, he displayed optimism that the press conference addressed by colonel Qureshi and wing commander Singh offered him a fleeting glimpse of, what he said, “to an India that defied the logic on which Pakistan was built”. “As I said,” he said, “the grassroots reality that common Muslims face is different from what the government tried to show but at the same time the press conference shows that an India, united it its diversity, is not completely dead as an idea.”

It is preposterous to think that what he wrote pointed to sedition or attempts to stoke enmity among people professing diverse faiths. The arrest of professor Ali Khan is an example of State action egregiously violating the constitutionally guaranteed freedom of expression and rule of law.

Nehru on Irfan Habib

It is against this sordid backdrop that we may recall how seventy years back in 1955, Nehru intervened to get a scholarship for Irfan Habib, now a renowned historian. Nehru’s intervention was warranted because the Home Ministry had raised objections owing to the fact that Habib was a member of the Communist Party.

Following Zakir Hussain’s pleadings that Habib should be helped Nehru met him. In the letter to Zakir Hussain, Nehru wrote that Habib was a Member of Communist party and the government scholarship should not be given to someone who might use it to study and later act against the State.

“No State,” Nehru wrote, “ could be expected to go out of its way to give a scholarship to a person on whom it could not rely or who was likely to indulge in activities which were harmful to the State”.

It is instructive that Nehru in that letter described Irfan and his comrades as Jesuits and he wrote that they belonged “… to the strict order and not over-scrupulous in their dealings with others, provided they carry out the dictates of that order to whom they owe their basic loyalty”.

“I see no reason why Government should go out of its way to offer a scholarship to a person who is so tied up with an order of this kind, whether it is the communist party or some other,” Nehru sharply noted.

However, while he did make those remarks, Nehru also showed his statesmanship and wrote, “I recognise, of course, that one must not judge young people too strictly and youthful enthusiasm must not be ignored. Probably, with some greater experience, one grows out of these immature grooves of thought and action”.

In the end, he advised the Ministry of Education to give scholarship to Habib with the remarks that “…. he is a young man of intelligence and, I believe, integrity and both these qualities will no doubt influence his future growth.”

Modi regime criminalising dissent

Seventy years after Nehru displayed his liberality while dealing with a young dissenting academic like Habib and granted him a scholarship, a young professor like Mahmudabad is being put behind bars for his Facebook post which is full of constructive crticisim rooted in idea of India. Eventually Mahmudabad will triumph because in his own words, “India, united in its diversity, is not completely dead as an idea.”

S N Sahu served as Officer on Special Duty to former President of India K.R. Narayanan.

Courtesy: The Wire

The post In Contrast: Nehru’s Take on a Young, Dissenting Irfan Habib and the Modi Govt’s Treatment of Mahmudabad appeared first on SabrangIndia.

At an event organised last week in memory of actor and activist Vira Sathidar, a group of young cultural activists sang the lyrics of Faiz’s famous Hum Dekhenge. The Nagpur police have now booked the organisers and the event’s speaker under Section 152 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), which pertains to sedition, along with other sections of the BNS, including Section 196 (promoting enmity between groups) and Section 353 (statements conducive to public mischief).

Sathidar, an accomplished actor, prolific writer, journalist, and political thinker, died on April 13, 2021, after battling COVID-19 for over a week. Satidhar was also an Ambedkarite and the editor of Vidrohi magazine. Since his passing, his wife, Pushpa, is one of the organisers of the annual memorial. A committee was formed after Sathidar’s death under the name ‘Vira Sathidar Smruti Samanvay Samiti’ which has been instrumental in organising the annual event. This year, social activist Uttam Jagirdar was invited to speak. Although the FIR does not name individuals explicitly, it refers to the event’s organiser and speaker.

At the event organised on May 13 at the Vidarbha Sahitya Sangh, attended by over 150 people, Jagirdar talked about the contentious Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill, 2024. The  BJP-led state government is aggressively pushing to convert this bill into a law and implement it. Activists and academics believe this bill, if enacted, will lead to blatant violations of human rights and allow dissenting voices to be labeled “urban Naxals”.

The FIR, filed by one local Nagpur resident Dattatray Shirke, cites a news report aired on ABP Majha, a Marathi channel. The channel was likely the first to find issue in reciting Faiz’s poetry in India. In his complaint, Shirke claims, “At a time when the country valiantly fought Pakistani forces, the radical left in Nagpur were busy singing Pakistani poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s poem.

Shirke further claims that the line “Takht hilaane ki zaroorat hai (a need to shake the throne)” constitutes a direct threat to the government. However, while the FIR quotes the above line, the actual line in the poem is “sab takht giraye jayenge”. The poem was performed by young Mumbai-based cultural activists from Samata Kala Manch.

Despite an ongoing stay by the Supreme Court on the application of sedition charges, the Nagpur police have booked the organisers and speakers under the section. On May 11, 2022, the apex court had issued a historic order, staying all pending trials, appeals, and proceedings under section 124-A of the Indian Penal Code until the sedition law’s re-examination was complete. Since then, the BJP-led government has replaced the IPC with the BNS. However, the new law does not eliminate the sedition provision. Instead, the BNS introduces Section 152, which closely resembles the sedition law without explicitly using the word ‘sedition’.

Journalist arrested on same month

This is the second case this month in which the Nagpur police have targeted an individual’s freedom of expression. Earlier this month, a 26-year-old Kerala-based journalist, Rejaz M. Sheeba Sydeek, visiting Nagpur, was arrested for posting a photo of himself posing with two fake guns and opposing the Indian Army.

Initially investigated by the Nagpur city police and now handled by the Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS), Rejaz is accused of opposing Operation Sindoor – India’s military strikes against terrorist infrastructure in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. The agency has also alleged that Rejaz has connections with banned organisations, including the Communist Party of India (Maoist), Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF), and Hizb-ul-Mujahideen. These banned organisations have radically different ideologies and the police have accused Rejaz of espousing ideologies of each of these banned groups.

Vira Sathidar’s endless protest

During his lifetime, Sathidar faced constant harassment from the police due to his political activism, keeping him under their radar. In a long interview with The Wire, months before his death, Sathidar had raised concern over the government’s tactics of employing new methods to control its citizens. For instance, while shooting for the film Court in 2013, the Gondia police arrived unannounced on the Mumbai set, searching for a “Naxal from Nagpur.” A year before his death, after raising issues against the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) headquarters in Nagpur, his house was raided by local police. During the raid, a sword was found, but local youths chased the police away.

In October 2020, when the NIA filed a supplementary chargesheet in the Elgar Parishad case, Sathidar’s name appeared among the so-called “urban Naxals,” a term loosely used by the Devendra Fadnavis-led government to target dissenters. Now, with the Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill, the state government seeks to formalise the term “urban Naxal” within the legal framework.

The government had made several attempts to criminalise Satidhar when he was alive and such efforts have seemingly continued even after his death.

Courtesy: The Wire

The post Singing Faiz’s ‘Hum Dekhenge’ is ‘Sedition’: Nagpur Police Book Organisers of Vira Sathidar Memorial appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The poem did not name any religion or community but lamented injustice, questioned state power, and called for non-violence as a means of resistance. The complaint alleged it incited religious hatred and disturbed social harmony.

What was at stake was far greater than one poem or one politician—it was the scope of criminal law in regulating political speech, the meaning of “incitement”, and whether popular offence can override constitutional values.

Background: A poem, a platform, and a prosecution

On December 29, 2024, during a mass wedding programme in Jamnagar, Gujarat, organised by a local councillor, Imran Pratapgarhi recited a poem that was later posted as a video on his verified social media account on the platform ‘X’. The poem included verses such as:

“ए ख़ून के प्यासों बात सुनो
गर हक़ की लड़ाई ज़ुल्म सही
हम ज़ुल्म से इश्क़ निभा देंगे…”

Translated broadly:

“O you blood-thirsty, listen!
If the fight for rights brings injustice,
We will meet that injustice with love…”

The FIR accused the appellant of promoting enmity between communities and disturbing national harmony. Shockingly, he was charged under Sections 196, 197(1), 302, 299, 57 and 3(5) of the BNS—provisions dealing with incitement, hate speech, religious disharmony, and even abetment of violence. Through the FIR, it was alleged that the spoken words of the poem incite people of one community against another, and it hurts a community’s religious and social sentiments. It was further alleged that the song had lyrics that incited people of other communities to fight for the community’s rights. It was claimed that the video posted by the appellant created enmity between two communities at the national level and hatred towards each other. It was further alleged that it had a detrimental effect on national unity.

Key observations of the Court

1. Constitutional Voice vs. State Machinery: A foundational tension

At the heart of this judgment lies an old constitutional paradox: the State is both the guarantor and violator of fundamental rights. Justice Oka, with characteristic candour, begins by confronting this tension head-on:

“This case shows that even after 75 years of the existence of our Constitution, the law enforcement machinery of the State is either ignorant about this important fundamental right or does not care for this fundamental right.” (Para 1)

In this opening salvo of the judgment, Justice Abhay S. Oka sets the tone for a judgment that is as much an indictment of institutional apathy as it is a reaffirmation of constitutional values. The observation that even after 75 years of constitutional existence, law enforcement remains either ignorant of or indifferent to the fundamental right to freedom of expression, reveals a profound structural dysfunction. This remark is not made in passing—it is a judicial rebuke aimed squarely at a State apparatus that defaults to coercion over constitutional engagement. By framing the issue as one of institutional disrepair rather than individual excess, the Court shifts the spotlight from the accused citizen to the accuser state, raising critical questions about how routinely—and with what legal illiteracy—criminal law is weaponised to suppress dissent.

What emerges from this framing is the Court’s role not as a mere adjudicator of facts, but as a constitutional conscience-keeper. Rather than balancing “free speech” against “law and order,” the judgment asserts that the State’s repeated resort to criminal prosecution for expressive acts is itself an affront to the constitutional order. This is not just about a misreading of a poem—it is about the State’s deep discomfort with metaphor, criticism, and resistance. The Court’s insistence that the rule of law includes a duty to respect rights, not merely regulate them, transforms the case into a referendum on how faithfully the State embodies the very freedoms it claims to guarantee. In doing so, the Court subtly but powerfully reclaims constitutional morality as an active, living principle—not a hollow preamble.

2. A Theory of Free Speech: From libertarian tolerance to affirmative protection

This judgment doesn’t merely shield speech—it underlines its necessity. Justice Oka, who had authored the judgment on the behalf of the Bench, frames Article 19(1) (a) as not merely a right but as a structural precondition for human dignity and democratic engagement, thereby locating it within the broader penumbra of Article 21:

“Free expression of thoughts and views by individuals or groups of individuals is an integral part of a healthy, civilised society. Without freedom of expression of thoughts and views, it is impossible to lead a dignified life guaranteed by Article 21 of the Constitution. In a healthy democracy, the views, opinions or thoughts expressed by an individual or group of individuals must be countered by expressing another point of view. Even if a large number of persons dislike the views expressed by another, the right of the person to express the views must be respected and protected.” (Para 38)

This convergence of Articles 19 and 21 reflects a distinctly substantive conception of liberty, moving beyond formal non-interference toward affirmative obligation. The State (including the police and judiciary) is thus required not just to refrain from suppressing speech but to actively ensure its flourishing.

“The reasonable restrictions provided for in Article 19(2) must remain reasonable and not fanciful and oppressive. Article 19(2) cannot be allowed to overshadow the substantive rights under Article 19(1), including the right to freedom of speech and expression.” (Para 29)

3.  The law’s elasticity: From ambiguity to abuse

The charges levelled against Pratapgarhi under Sections 196, 197, 299, 302, and 57 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita represent an alarming instance of legal overbreadth being used as a political weapon. The BNS, like its predecessor IPC, contains clauses so capaciously worded (e.g., “feelings of enmity”, “disharmony”, “outraging religious beliefs”) that they leave room for subjective interpretation and state-led abuse.

Justice Oka (and J Bhuyan) cut through this ambiguity:

“By no stretch of imagination does it promote enmity… The poem refers to injustice and offers non-violence as a response. It cannot be seen as a cause of communal disharmony.” (Para 10)

This is a clear attempt to re-inscribe constitutional interpretation over statutory vagueness, requiring any criminal allegation under these sections to pass a high threshold of intent, clarity, and demonstrable harm.

4. From Lalita Kumari to BNSS: Rethinking FIR registration

The Court’s discussion on Section 173(3) of the BNSS is an important departure from earlier CrPC jurisprudence under Lalita Kumari.

Where Lalita Kumari limited the police’s discretion, the BNSS introduces a structured preliminary inquiry model for offences punishable by 3–7 years—like many speech-related provisions.

The Supreme Court insists that in all speech-related cases where this discretion is available, it must be exercised:

“If an option under sub-Section (3) is not exercised by the police officer in such a case, he may end up registering an FIR against a person who has exercised his fundamental right under Article 19 (1)(a) even though clause (2) of Article 19 is not attracted. If, in such cases, the option under sub-Section (3) of Section 173 is not exercised, it will defeat the very object of incorporating sub-Section (3) of Section 173 of the BNSS and will also defeat the obligation of the police under Article 51-A (a).” (Para 29)

This means the police must now interpret the text of the speech itself, not just the complaint—an approach that, while normatively sound, places interpretive responsibility on officers often untrained in the subtleties of metaphor, political critique, or artistic licence.

5. Institutional analysis: The High Court’s abdication and the Supreme Court’s role as rights sentinel

The Gujarat High Court, by deferring to the early stage of the investigation, abdicated its constitutional responsibility to scrutinise rights violations at the threshold.

The Supreme Court rebuked this stance:

      “We fail to understand how the High Court concluded that the message was posted in a manner that would certainly disturb social harmony. Thereafter, the High Court gave a reason that the investigation was at a nascent stage. There is no absolute rule that when the investigation is at a nascent stage, the High Court cannot exercise its jurisdiction to quash an offence by exercising its jurisdiction under Article 226 of the Constitution of India or under Section 482 of the CrPC equivalent to Section 528 of the BNSS. When the High Court, in the given case, finds that no offence was made out on the face of it, to prevent abuse of the process of law, it can always interfere even though the investigation is at the nascent stage.” (Para 37)

This reaffirms that judicial intervention in the early stages of political or speech-related prosecutions is not just permissible but necessary. The longer the case proceeds, the more the process itself becomes punishment. This view counters a dangerous trend: judicial evasion in politically sensitive matters, often under the guise of deference to procedure. Here, the Court restores its duty as a constitutional firewall, refusing to be paralysed by formalism.

6. The Reasonable Reader standard: Sedition, hate Speech, and judicial empathy

A key analytical move in the judgment is the revival of the “reasonable, strong-minded” observer standard from Bhagwati Charan Shukla:

“When an offence punishable under Section 196 of BNS is alleged, the effect of the spoken or written words will have to be considered based on standards of reasonable, strongminded, firm and courageous individuals and not based on the standards of people with weak and oscillating minds. The effect of the spoken or written words cannot be judged on the basis of the standards of people who always have a sense of insecurity or of those who always perceive criticism as a threat to their power or position.” (Para 33)

This interpretive lens displaces subjective offence with an objective, resilient baseline, thereby protecting robust discourse. It delegitimises state action based solely on hurt sentiments or perceived disrespect to power. This is especially important in India’s contemporary climate, where claims of communal hurt are often wielded as instruments of political repression.

7. Literature as democratic praxis: The place of poetry in the Constitutional Order

In recognising the poem’s form and context, the Court refrains from sterilising language into literalism. Justice Oka honours the metaphorical richness of poetic expression and its political function:

“…the poem does not encourage violence. On the contrary, it encourages people to desist from resorting to violence and to face injustice with love. It states that if our fight with injustice results into the death of our near and dear ones, we would be happy to bury their bodies.” (Para 10)

Poetry here is not ornamental—it is political speech in its most potent, imaginative form. The Court recognises that to penalise such speech is to criminalise dissent itself. This judgment contributes to an emerging jurisprudence where art is recognised as both speech and constitutional engagement, not as a diluted cousin of prose but as its fiercest challenger.

8. Toward a doctrine of “Constitutional offence”

Perhaps the most striking analytical thread is the Court’s suggestion that some state actions themselves verge on a constitutional offence:

      “Even while dealing with the performance of an obligation under sub-Section (1) of Section 173, where the commission of the offence is based on spoken or written words, the police officer concerned will have to keep in mind the fundamental rights guaranteed under Article 19(1)(a) read with an exception carved out under clause (2) of Article 19. The reason is that he is under an obligation to abide by the Constitution and to respect the ideals under the Constitution. The Constitution is more than 75 years old. By this time, the police officers ought to have been sensitized about their duty of abiding by the Constitution and respecting the ideals of the Constitution.” (Para 30)

Here, Justice Oka (and Justice Bhuyan) aren’t merely interpreting law—they are charging the State with constitutional delinquency. In doing so, they lay the groundwork for a potential doctrine where misuse of criminal process to silence dissent could itself be a rights violation subject to public law remedy.

This is not explicitly framed in the language of compensation or tort—but it hints at a growing judicial recognition that abuse of power is not neutral—it is a rights violation in itself.

Legal analysis of offences under BNS: A systematic dismantling

In the judgment, the Supreme Court, has also meticulously analysed the ingredients of each alleged offence and found all of them legally untenable.

1. Section 196 (Promoting enmity between groups)

      “The poem does not refer to any religion, caste or language. It does not refer to persons belonging to any religion. By no stretch of imagination, does it promote enmity between different groups. We fail to understand how the statements therein are detrimental to national unity and how the statements will affect national unity. On its plain reading, the poem does not purport to affect anyone’s religious feelings.” (Para 12)

Based on precedent (Manzar Sayeed Khan, Patricia Mukhim, Javed Ahmad Hajam), the Court reaffirmed that criminalising speech requires a showing of deliberate intent (mens rea). Without it, the mere content of speech, however provocative to some, is not criminal.

      “Mens rea will have to be read into Section 196 of the BNS… it is impossible to attribute any mens rea to the appellant.” (Para 34)

2. Section 197 (Prejudicial to national integration)

Therefore, as the Supreme Court, read both facts and the law, the poem by Imran Pratapgarhi did not attract the offence under Section 197 as it:

• Did not cast doubt on the loyalty of any group.
• Did not assert the denial of citizenship rights.
• Did not jeopardise national unity.

      “…the poem does not make or publish any imputation and is not concerned with any religious, racial, language, regional group, caste, or community. It does not suggest that any class of persons have been denied rights as citizens because they are members of a religious, racial, language, regional group, caste, or community. It does not make or publish any assertion, counsel, plea or appeal likely to cause disharmony or feeling of enmity or hatred or ill will. The poem does not publish or make any false or misleading information.” (Para 16)

3. Section 299 & Section 302 (Religious insult or wounding religious sentiment)

The Court termed these charges “ridiculous”:

      “To say the least, it is ridiculous to say that the act of the appellant is intended to outrage the religious feelings of any class by insulting its religion or religious beliefs. The poem only tells the rulers what the reaction will be if the fight for rights is met with injustice.” (Para 17)

4. Section 57 (Abetment by public)

      “We fail to understand, even if it is assumed that the appellant has committed some offence, how he has abetted the commission of an offence by the public generally or by any number or class of persons exceeding ten.” (Para 19)

The Supreme Court’s systematic dismantling of the charges against Imran Pratapgarhi reflects a jurisprudence grounded in constitutional fidelity and statutory precision. In addressing Section 196 of the BNS—concerning promotion of enmity between groups—the Court reiterates a long-standing doctrinal principle: that the mere capacity of speech to provoke cannot substitute for a demonstrable, deliberate intent to incite enmity. Drawing from precedents like Manzar Sayeed Khan, Patricia Mukhim, and Javed Ahmad Hajam, the Court makes it clear that mens rea—a deliberate, malicious state of mind—is essential for liability. The poem in question, devoid of any reference to religion, caste, or community, could not be interpreted as promoting group enmity, and to criminalise it would be a distortion of both the statute and the Constitution. The Court’s reading imposes a constitutional filter on the BNS provision, ensuring it cannot be misused to punish subjective offence or perceived disrespect.

This logic extends seamlessly to the rejection of charges under Sections 197, 299, 302, and 57. Under Section 197, which deals with acts prejudicial to national integration, the Court’s reasoning is particularly illuminating. Justice Oka dissects the elements of the offence and finds none fulfilled: the poem neither impugns any group’s loyalty nor suggests the denial of citizenship rights, nor does it propagate disinformation. Similarly, the invocation of Section 299 and 302 for religious insult is dismissed as “ridiculous,” with the Court recognising that the poem critiques state injustice, not religious belief. Most striking is the Court’s incredulity at the Section 57 charge—abetment by the public—highlighting not only the absence of any instigated act but also the absurdity of imagining that poetic expression could be interpreted as a generalised call to criminal conduct. This cluster of analyses reveals not only the hollowness of the FIR but also the deeper pathology of criminal law’s misuse: charges laid without regard for statutory thresholds, constitutional limits, or evidentiary plausibility. Justice Oka and Justice Bhuyan’s reasoning is a potent reminder that law, especially criminal law, cannot be driven by sentiment, conjecture, or political expediency—it must be anchored in demonstrable harm, clear intent, and legal fidelity.

The Court as guardian of the Republic’s imagination

Imran Pratapgarhi judgement is not merely about poetry—it is about power, protest, and the place of dissent in India’s constitutional framework. This judgment revitalises the meaning of free speech in an age where criminal law is increasingly wielded to silence opposition. It teaches us that:

• Law is not merely a set of punishments but a moral language.
• Courts must defend expression, even if the State finds it discomforting.
• Poetry, critique, and satire are not seditious—they are the scaffolding of a free republic.

In this moment, the Supreme Court does not merely defend a poem—it defends the possibility of dissent itself. And that makes it one of the most important judgments on freedom of speech in recent Indian history.

To borrow the Court’s own words:

      “Courts, particularly the constitutional Courts, must be at the forefront to zealously protect the fundamental rights of the citizens. It is the bounden duty of the Courts to ensure that the Constitution and the ideals of the Constitution are not trampled upon.” (Para 39)

Conclusion: A Constitutional anthem for the right to dissent

The Imran Pratapgarhi judgment stands as a powerful reaffirmation that the Constitution of India is not a brittle document to be bruised by sentiment, nor a tool to be twisted by the might of the State. It is, instead, a living charter that guarantees not only the right to speak, but the right to disturb, to provoke, and to dissent—particularly through art, poetry, and political expression. Justice Oka’s reasoning does not merely rescue one man from a legally untenable prosecution; it reclaims the constitutional promise that the State cannot demand silence in exchange for citizenship.

By scrupulously dismantling every charge brought under the BNS and holding law enforcement accountable to constitutional ideals, the judgment delivers a rare, lucid defence of free speech in an era when such freedoms are frequently under siege. It goes beyond the judicial role of error correction and enters the moral terrain of democratic defence. This case is not just precedent—it is a call to conscience for the police, for the lower judiciary, and for civil society. In drawing a firm constitutional line between law and power, it sends an unequivocal message: poetic dissent is not criminal, and the Constitution does not flinch before uncomfortable truths.

Ultimately, this is not merely a judgment about the legality of a poem—it is a resounding assertion of the Republic’s constitutional soul. It reminds us that the true test of democracy is not how the State treats speech that flatters, but how it responds to speech that resists. On that test, the Supreme Court has spoken with uncommon clarity and courage.

The complete judgment may be read below.

Related:

Judicial Setback: Supreme Court dilutes Bombay HC’s bold stand on police accountability in custodial killing in Badlapur case

India’s Free Speech Crisis Deepens: 329 violations recorded in just four months of 2025

“Nothing but an abuse of the process of law”: SC bars second Foreigners Tribunal case against same person, reinforces finality of citizenship verdicts

The post A Republic That Listens: The Supreme Court’s poetic defence of dissent through Imran Pratapgarhi judgment appeared first on SabrangIndia.

But they are not alone. In Lucknow, the newsroom of 4 PM, a digital Hindi-language outlet known for its critical reporting on the government, was forcibly taken off YouTube. Its editor, Sanjay Sharma, told Newslaudry that he had been asking government questions regarding national security, especially after the Pahalgam terror attack. Together, these incidents point to a growing climate of fear, where artistic expression, academic freedom, and independent journalism are seen as threats to national order rather than pillars of a healthy democracy.

The cases of Rathore, Kakoti, and 4 PM are not isolated. They are symptoms of a systemic assault on free speech, emboldened by a new legal regime—the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita—that revives colonial-era sedition in a new, more ambiguous form. This is not just about individual persecution. It is about the shrinking space for dissent in today’s India—and the urgent need to defend it.

‘Sedition’ for singing truths: Folk singer Neha Singh Rathore targeted

In a striking example of the state’s growing hostility towards dissenters and cultural voices that challenge official narratives, Bhojpuri folk singer Neha Singh Rathore has been booked under charges of sedition and digital offences in Uttar Pradesh for her social media posts on the April 22 terror attack in Pahalgam. The charges come under Section 152 of the newly implemented Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), which criminalises acts “endangering the sovereignty, unity and integrity of India”, and under various sections of the Information Technology Act, 2000.

The FIR, registered at Hazratganj police station in Lucknow, stems from a complaint by one Abhay Pratap Singh. The complaint claims that Rathore’s posts could provoke communal tensions and alleges that her content is being picked up and circulated by social media handles associated with Pakistani political organisations. That a popular singer known for biting social satire has been accused of jeopardising national unity, based on speculation that Pakistani accounts shared her video, lays bare the sheer fragility of the state’s definition of “security” and “sovereignty”.

What did Rathore say? Legitimate questions, politically inconvenient: As per a report in The Quint, the complaint focuses on three tweets by Rathore and one by an allegedly Pakistan-linked handle that reposted her video. In one tweet, Rathore raised a straightforward question:

“Modi ji was scheduled to visit Jammu on 19 April, but his trip was postponed. Three days later, on 22 April, a terrorist attack took place in Pahalgam, resulting in the death of 27 tourists. On what grounds was Modiji’s Jammu visit postponed? Was there a suspicion of a possible terrorist attack?” (Translated to English)

मोदी जी 19 अप्रैल को जम्मू जाने वाले थे, लेकिन उनकी यात्रा स्थगित कर दी गई.

तीन दिन बाद 22 अप्रैल को पहलगाम में आतंकी हमला हुआ और 27 पर्यटक मारे गये.

मोदीजी की जम्मू यात्रा किस बहाने से स्थगित की गई?

क्या किसी आतंकी हमले की आशंका थी?#PahalgamTerroristAttack #pahalgamattack… pic.twitter.com/VNYgigiuBZ

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 23, 2025

Another post urged people to question the narrative and look beyond the surface:

“Who could have orchestrated such an attack? Who stands to benefit from it? Think about it, think carefully! Use common sense and tell!”

पति की मौत का मातम मना रही औरत का कार्टून बनाने के लिए जितनी असंवेदनशीलता और बेशर्मी चाहिये…वो सिर्फ़ भाजपा में है.

अब बस दो बातें सोचिये-

1-ऐसे हमले से किसे फ़ायदा होगा?

2-हमले के तुरंत बाद “धर्म पूछा जाति नहीं” के पोस्टर किसने लगाये?

बहुत कुछ समझ में आने लगेगा.… pic.twitter.com/1qHm6wzfat

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 23, 2025

These are not inflammatory remarks but standard political commentary—critical in tone, but fully within the bounds of democratic discourse. Yet, they have been construed as seditious, dangerous, and anti-national.

The FIR also references a tweet by a Pakistani handle—believed to be affiliated with the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party—which reposted a video of Rathore where she called the Pahalgam incident “a failure of intelligence and security under the current administration” and alluded to similar historical instances where terror attacks were politically leveraged during elections.

पाकिस्तान के किसी ट्विटर हैंडल ने मेरा वीडियो शेयर कर दिया तो अंधभक्त मुझे देशद्रोही कहने लगे.

लेकिन मोदीजी पाकिस्तान जाकर बिरयानी खा लेते हैं तब भी देशभक्त हैं.

मैं ये बात बार-बार कहूँगी कि अगर बिहार चुनाव पहलगाम के मुद्दे पर हुआ तो बिहार के अपने मुद्दे साइड लाइन हो जाएँगे. pic.twitter.com/XVZhGQJuiz

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 26, 2025

देश के भीतर हिंदू-मुसलमान की जो आग आपने बीते दस सालों में लगाई है…देश उससे कमज़ोर हुआ है.

पत्रकार का काम सरकारों से सवाल पूछना है…उनकी चाटुकारिता करना नहीं.

है दम?

रही बात मेरी…तो मेरा पूरा परिवार भारतीय सेना में ही है…तो मुझे देशभक्ति मत सिखाइये.@chitraaum pic.twitter.com/7UrNDtl3is

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 27, 2025

The criminalisation of political dissent: The legal and political implications of this FIR are significant. Section 152 of the BNS, which replaces the colonial-era sedition law under the Indian Penal Code, was touted by the Union government as a modernised, rights-respecting alternative. In practice, however, the section is proving to be just as repressive, if not worse. The language of “sovereignty” and “integrity” has once again become a catch-all net to silence dissent, especially in politically sensitive moments like elections.

The FIR represents an increasingly familiar pattern in BJP-ruled states, especially Uttar Pradesh: anyone who challenges the government’s record—whether on security, governance, or civil rights—is branded a threat to national security, slapped with draconian laws, and subjected to relentless digital vilification. That this treatment is being meted out to a folk singer whose platform is built on satire, regional culture, and grassroots issues, shows just how wide the net of repression has been cast.

Neha Singh Rathore hits back: Rathore, undeterred, released a strong video statement on X (formerly Twitter), accusing the state of using legal intimidation to deflect from its failures:

“The government wants to divert attention by filing an FIR against me. This is not so difficult to understand. If you have the guts, go get the heads of those terrorists. Don’t put the blame of your failure on me.”

पहलगाम हमले के जवाब में अब तक सरकार ने क्या किया है? मेरे ऊपर FIR ?

अरे दम है तो जाइये…आतंकवादियों के सिर लेकर आइये!

सरकार मेरे ऊपर FIR करवाकर असली मुद्दों से ध्यान भटकाना चाहती है…क्या ये बात समझना इतना मुश्किल है? pic.twitter.com/mOuKPzYYoF

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 28, 2025

आतंकी हमला सरकार की नाकामी है और सरकार की नाकामी पर सरकार से सवाल पूछना होता है.

बहुत सारे लोग इस कॉमन सेंस से महरूम हो चुके हैं.

मैं सरकार से सवाल पूछ रही हूँ तो कुछ लोग मुझसे सवाल पूछ रहे हैं!

अगर सही समय पर सरकार से सवाल पूछा गया होता तो आज देश शोक में न डूबा होता.…

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 23, 2025

She further condemned the state’s practice of penalising those who ask questions:

“Their answer to every question is sending a notice, taking away our jobs, filing FIRs, getting us abused, scaring us, and humiliating us. If you call this politics, then what is dictatorship?”

सरकार को अपनी नाकामी का ठीकरा मेरे कपार मढ़ने की कोई ज़रूरत नहीं है.

पहलगाम हमले के जवाब में अब तक सरकार ने क्या किया है? मेरे ऊपर FIR ?

अरे दम है तो जाइये आतंकवादियों के सिर लेकर आइये!

जैसे लोकतंत्र में एक-एक वोट ज़रूरी होता है, वैसे ही एक-एक सवाल भी ज़रूरी होता है…और सरकार… pic.twitter.com/gMlayupQmd

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 28, 2025

In response to the coordinated outrage from the BJP IT cell, Rathore clarified that she has deep personal ties to the armed forces:

“They’re calling me anti-national because a Pakistani handle copied my video. Fourteen members of my family have served in the Indian Army and paramilitary forces. My brother is fighting Naxalites in Chhattisgarh and my uncle fought in the Kargil war.”

पूरी भाजपा के नेताओं के जितने बच्चे फ़ौज में होंगे…उससे ज़्यादा तो मेरे अपने परिवार के लोग सेना में अपनी जान दाँव पर लगा चुके हैं…

…लेकिन आज भाजपा का आईटी सेल मुझे देशद्रोही कह रहा है क्योंकि मैं बिना डरे सवाल पूछती हूँ.

प्रधानमंत्री से सवाल पूछना देशद्रोह है क्या?… pic.twitter.com/t6ImAbbZpX

— Neha Singh Rathore (@nehafolksinger) April 27, 2025

Her response not only highlights the absurdity of the charges against her but also exposes the selective patriotism of those who weaponise nationalism to silence dissent.

A pattern of targeting: This is not Rathore’s first brush with the law. In July 2023, she faced legal action for posting a cartoon on the horrifying Madhya Pradesh urination incident, where a dominant-caste man was seen urinating on a tribal labourer. Earlier in February 2023, she was served a notice by Kanpur Police for allegedly promoting enmity through the second version of her viral song ‘UP Mein Ka Ba’.

Her songs—rooted in Bhojpuri folk tradition—focus on social issues like unemployment, corruption, gender violence, the dowry system, and declining cultural values. Unlike the sanitised and often apolitical mainstream media and music industry, Rathore’s work is a rare voice of resistance, using wit and melody to speak truth to power.

Her 2020 hit ‘Bihar Mein Ka Ba’ and its 2022 counterpart ‘UP Mein Ka Ba’ gained massive traction precisely because they reflected the frustrations of ordinary people under a regime increasingly allergic to criticism.

Free speech or treason? A dangerous precedent: The booking of Neha Singh Rathore should worry anyone who values free speech, artistic expression, and the right to question authority. It illustrates how the new legal architecture under the BNS is no less authoritarian than the old colonial codes it claims to replace. Vague provisions like Section 152 are now being used not to protect India’s sovereignty, but to shield a powerful ruling party from public scrutiny—especially in moments when its security apparatus appears compromised.

Rather than launching a credible investigation into the Pahalgam attack, the state has found it more convenient to redirect public attention by persecuting artists and intellectuals. By doing so, it reframes criticism as subversion, dissent as sedition, and legitimate questions as threats to national integrity.

Neha Singh Rathore’s case is not an isolated incident—it is a warning. A democracy that cannot tolerate a folk song, a tweet, or a video is no longer secure in its foundations. And when the law is wielded not to protect citizens but to silence them, the real danger to the nation lies not in dissenting voices, but in those who seek to extinguish them.

Targeting the Professor: Dr Medusa booked for ‘sedition’ over social media posts

In a chilling development that underscores the shrinking space for academic and political dissent in India, an FIR has been filed against Dr Madri Kakoti—popularly known as “Dr Medusa” on social media—for posts questioning state actions following the terror attack in Pahalgam. The charges, filed at Hasanganj police station in Lucknow, include sedition-like provisions under the newly enacted Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, as well as offences under the Information Technology Act, 2000.

Dr Kakoti, an Assistant Professor in the Department of Linguistics at Lucknow University and a widely followed political commentator online, is accused of posts that allegedly threaten India’s “unity, integrity and sovereignty.” The complaint, filed by Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) leader Jatin Shukla, claims she routinely uses terms such as “saffron terrorists” and that her remarks are being picked up by Pakistani social media handles like @PTI_Promotion—ironically the same handle cited in the FIR against singer Neha Singh Rathore earlier.

The posts that sparked the storm: Dr Kakoti’s recent posts have focused on the alleged atrocities committed against Kashmiris in the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack, and she has openly demanded the resignation of Home Minister Amit Shah for what she describes as an “unforgivable failure” of national security. Her posts include commentary on state excesses in Kashmir, communal impunity, and the co-option of terrorism for electoral benefit.

Protect the KASHMIRI PEOPLE living outside Kashmir.

DEMAND JUSTICE, NOT REVENGE. https://t.co/ZjhAbuRLVJ

— Dr.Medusa (@ms_medusssa) April 24, 2025

27 Indians are dead. RESIGN @AmitShah If you can not ensure the safety of Indians, YOU MUST RESIGN.

AND THE REST OF YOU LOT. OPEN YOUR EYES TO THE REALITY THAT HATRED ONLY BEGETS HATRED. pic.twitter.com/VVPGzOPFCA

— Dr.Medusa (@ms_medusssa) April 23, 2025

धर्म पूछकर गोली मारना आतंकवाद है।

और धर्म पूछकर lynch करना,
धर्म पूछकर नौकरी से निकालना,
धर्म पूछकर घर न देना,
धर्म पूछकर घर bulldoze करना, वगैरह वगैरह
भी आतंकवाद है।

असली आतंकी को पहचानो।

— Dr.Medusa (@ms_medusssa) April 23, 2025

While her critique is deeply political and sharply worded, it falls squarely within the realm of democratic free speech and academic independence—particularly in a country where public discourse is constitutionally protected under Article 19(1)(a). Yet, the FIR alleges that her intent is to provoke unrest and “incite riots.” Such extrapolations from political critique to criminal conspiracy reflect an increasingly draconian trend.

पहलगाम में हुए नृशंस आतंकवादी हमले पर सरकार से सवाल पूछते वीडियो और ट्वीट के संदर्भ में मैं यह स्पष्टीकरण देना चाहती हूं:

मेरे द्वारा किए गए ट्वीट और बनाए गए वीडियो में आतंकवादी/आतंकी शब्द सिर्फ़ और सिर्फ़ पाकिस्तान द्वारा समर्थित और प्रायोजित आतंकवादियों के लिए है, जिन्होंने…

— Dr.Medusa (@ms_medusssa) April 29, 2025

Campus protests and disciplinary action: As her posts gained traction, ABVP-led student protests erupted at Lucknow University, demanding her dismissal. Protesters raised slogans, submitted a memorandum to the Vice-Chancellor, and insisted that her remarks were “anti-national.” Under pressure, the University issued Dr Kakoti a show-cause notice, as per the report of Moneycontrol.com, demanding an explanation within five days and threatening disciplinary action.

This targeting of a university professor, using student mobilisation and administrative pressure, is a playbook that has become disturbingly common. Whether in the case of Delhi University’s Dr GN Saibaba, JNU’s Umar Khalid and Anirban Bhattacharya, or now Dr Kakoti, universities are being turned into battlegrounds for ideological policing.

As per Times of India, Dr Kakoti, originally from Assam and known for her pointed satire and critique of majoritarian politics, responded to the outrage by stating that “What I said is a fact and 100% correct. There is nothing wrong in this statement. It is a general one, listing crimes which fall within the definition of causing ‘terror’. I can’t really take any responsibility for someone thinking it is about them.”

Weaponising patriotism, silencing dissent: The FIR and the university’s swift disciplinary response are indicative of a deeper rot: the weaponisation of nationalism to criminalise critique, especially from voices seen as Left-leaning, secular, or resistant to the Sangh Parivar’s ideological worldview. ABVP leader Shukla told Newslaundry: “People from Leftist ideology are working to divide society and the students. They are making this issue political, when there is a situation of war between India and Pakistan and your ideology wants to create a civil war in the country itself.”

This framing—conflating dissent with disloyalty, criticism with conspiracy—is emblematic of an authoritarian approach to governance. By invoking an external enemy (Pakistan) and branding all domestic critics as internal threats, the state and its allied organisations seek to delegitimise political opposition altogether.

While the colonial-era sedition law under Section 124A of the Indian Penal Code has been suspended pending Supreme Court review, its spirit has found a new home in Section 152 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita—a catch-all provision criminalising any act seen as “endangering India’s sovereignty, unity or integrity.”

Both Dr Medusa and Neha Singh Rathore have been booked under this vague and sweeping section. That their posts were allegedly shared by a Pakistani social media handle has been used to bolster charges of sedition—a dubious logic that essentially gives foreign propaganda the power to criminalise Indian citizens.

Silencing dissent: Blocking 4PM news channel on YouTube over ‘national security’ concerns

In a fresh blow to press freedom and digital journalism in India, the YouTube news channel 4PM has been blocked in the country following a government order citing concerns related to “national security or public order.” The move, which lacks transparency and a clear public justification, marks yet another instance of the state using opaque mechanisms to silence critical voices in the media space—particularly those asking uncomfortable questions.

The ban, communicated to the channel’s editor-in-chief Sanjay Sharma via email from YouTube on Tuesday morning as per Newslaundry, comes shortly after 4PM published a series of videos critically analysing the government’s handling of the Pahalgam terror attack. Sharma, a veteran journalist, has stated that the channel’s intention was not to undermine national interest but to hold the government accountable in a democratic manner.

Coverage that asked tough questions: Although the exact video or post that led to the blocking remains unspecified, the report of Newslaundry provided that 4PM had recently uploaded content with headlines such as:

• “Pahalgam hamle ka khul gaya raaz. Raaton raat kya hua ki hat gayi sena?”
• “Laal kaaleen par Amit Shah ka swaagat. Mritakon ko shraddhanjali dene gaye the ya tamasha banaane?”

These pointed headlines reflect the channel’s critical editorial line: questioning the sudden security lapses in Pahalgam, the removal of troops before the attack, and the political spectacle surrounding Home Minister Amit Shah’s visit to pay tributes to the victims.

Rather than engage with these questions, the government has seemingly opted for the digital equivalent of a blackout. At the time of writing, visitors to 4PM’s YouTube page are met with a notice that reads:

“This content is currently unavailable in this country because of an order from the government related to national security or public order.”

Opaque process, no due process: The removal of 4PM comes under the ambit of Rule 16 of the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021, which allows the central government to issue blocking orders in “emergency” situations without providing the affected parties an opportunity to be heard beforehand. While the rules allow for post-facto hearings, critics argue this is largely a formality—especially when platforms comply without questioning or publicising the takedown.

No formal notice from the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology (MeitY) has been made public. The lack of transparency, both from the government and from YouTube, raises serious concerns about the misuse of national security as a blanket justification to suppress journalism that challenges the ruling dispensation.

A pattern of digital censorship: This is not an isolated incident. Over the past few years, India has seen a sharp rise in the blocking of YouTube channels, Twitter accounts, and news content critical of the central government, especially during sensitive moments such as the farmers’ protests, the Delhi riots, and the abrogation of Article 370 in Kashmir. Often, the reasoning given involves “public order” or “national interest”—but without explanation or recourse.

According to the Google Transparency Report of 2023, India has been among the top five countries in the world for government content takedown requests, with hundreds of URLs blocked citing national security. , these incidents signal a coordinated suppression of dissent in the digital sphere, particularly when it arises from independent or alternative media sources.

Democracy and the “Right to Know” at stake: 4PM is not a major corporate media house but a regional digital-first outlet with multiple sub-channels such as 4PM UP and 4PM Rajasthan. Its success lies in its direct communication with ordinary citizens, often bypassing mainstream narratives to highlight local grievances, administrative lapses, and political controversies. In doing so, it fulfils the media’s constitutional role of holding power to account.

By labelling such journalism as a threat to national security, the government not only criminalises scrutiny but also undermines the public’s right to information—a right enshrined in Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution.

Conclusion: Policing speech, protecting power

The FIRs against Neha Singh Rathore and Dr Madri Kakoti, alongside the silencing of 4 PM, are not aberrations—they are part of a broader architecture of repression where dissent is equated with disloyalty, and grief is permitted only if it conforms to the state’s narrative. These actions came in the wake of the Pahalgam terror attack, a horrifying incident that claimed the lives of Indian soldiers and civilians. In moments like these, public mourning must be accompanied by public inquiry. People must be allowed to ask: How did such a breach happen in a heavily militarised zone? Were there lapses in intelligence? What accountability mechanisms are in place?

Instead of facilitating such democratic introspection, the state has chosen to clamp down on voices that seek it. Rathore’s Bhojpuri poem and Kakoti’s social media post did what responsible citizens should do in a constitutional democracy—they questioned state preparedness and response. Their criminalisation reveals a dangerous tendency: the shifting of focus from state failures to citizen ‘offences’.

Under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, with its vague and expansive clauses like Section 152, the state is increasingly equipped to prosecute dissent under the guise of protecting sovereignty. But as history shows, suppressing uncomfortable questions in the name of national security rarely leads to genuine safety—it leads to silence, impunity, and a brittle nationalism that cannot withstand scrutiny.

To defend freedom of expression today is to defend the right to grieve publicly, to question fearlessly, and to demand accountability relentlessly. The real threat to the republic is not a poem or a post—it is a government that treats questions as threats and critics as criminals. The price of dissent is rising—but so too is the cost of silence. And in the face of terror, it is not silence but scrutiny that keeps a democracy alive.

Related:

Echoes of Hate: Online anti-Muslim hate spreads against Muslim businesses and workers after Pahalgam attack

Complaint filed against VHP’s Chetan Jagdish Patel for inflammatory speech in Alibaug

Pahalgam attack sparks nationwide turmoil, Kashmiri students face a chilling wave of hate across India

SC leads the nation’s legal fraternity as it unites in grief & outrage over PahalgaSm terror attack

The post The Price of Dissent: In India, demanding accountability in times of grief must toe the line appeared first on SabrangIndia.

This, despite the fact that the organisers had submitted a letter in advance, informing the police about the protest. “They still went ahead and began detaining students and protestors. A police complaint has now been registered against five to six of us, including myself,” said Shailendra Kamble, one of the protest organisers as per Free Press Journal. Though those detained were released later in the evening, the action has raised alarm over the criminalisation of peaceful student-led dissent. A day before the protest, the TISS administration had issued an advisory warning students not to participate—an action that one may see as pre-emptive intimidation.

The protest was sparked by the recent Bombay High Court decision that upheld TISS’s controversial decision to suspend Ramdas for two years. The administration had accused him of “repetitive misconduct” and allegedly participating in “anti-national” activities, including public criticism of the central government and involvement in protests against the New Education Policy (NEP). The court, refusing to intervene, stated that the petition lacked merit. But to many in the academic community, the suspension reflects a deeply troubling trend of institutional overreach and the silencing of critical voices, especially those from marginalised communities.

Progressive groups and student organisations have denounced both the suspension and the high-handed response to the protest as emblematic of a growing intolerance for academic freedom and dissenting opinion in higher education. They also demanded that Ramdas’s fellowship be reinstated, and that TISS reassert its commitment to democratic principles rather than stifle them.

The entire incident—marked by the administrative advisory, police clampdown, and criminal complaints—underscores a growing climate of fear within campuses that were once known for nurturing critical thought and political engagement. The treatment of Ramdas P.S., a Dalit scholar, and the suppression of those who came out in solidarity with him, raise serious questions about caste-based discrimination and the erosion of democratic rights in public universities. As TISS joins the growing list of institutions where dissent is punished and student activism is under surveillance or is criminalised, this case serves as a sobering reminder that the fight for academic freedom is far from over.

Bombay High Court upholds TISS student’s suspension over politically motivated protest: A closer look at the judgment

In a significant order with troubling implications for dissent in academic spaces, the Bombay High Court had upheld the suspension of Ramdas. Ramdas was debarred for two years by the institute for his participation in a demonstration against the BJP government and the National Education Policy (NEP), held under the banner of the Progressive Students’ Forum (PSF–TISS). The division bench comprising Justice A.S. Chandurkar and Justice M.M. Sathaye found merit in the disciplinary action taken by TISS, stating that the protest was “politically motivated” and that the student’s actions had brought disrepute to the institute.

The court’s ruling leaned heavily on the institute’s claim that by participating in the protest under a banner mentioning “PSF–TISS”, the petitioner created the public impression that the political views expressed during the protest were endorsed by the institute itself. The bench observed, “It is therefore clear as sunshine that the said march was politically motivated, which the Petitioner participated in under the banner PSF–TISS in a student group. Therefore, the finding of the Committee that the Petitioner created an impression in general public that the politically motivated protest and views were the views of the Respondent/institution TISS, is founded on material available on record and no fault can be found to that extent. This has brought disrepute to the Institute in its view. Petitioner can have any political view of his choice, but so does the Institute.”

Ramdas, who had earlier completed a Master’s degree in Media and Cultural Studies from TISS and was pursuing his PhD on a scholarship from the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment, had been served a show-cause notice for participating in the “Parliament March” in Delhi on 12 January 2024. According to the institute, a poster released by PSF in connection with the march included the acronym “TISS”, creating the impression that it was an official representation. In his reply, Ramdas acknowledged his participation and admitted that “TISS” had been mentioned alongside PSF in a poster. Following an inquiry, the institute suspended him for two years and withheld his fellowship.

The court also examined a pamphlet circulated as part of the protest campaign which included slogans such as “Save India, Reject BJP” and accused the government of attempting to dismantle the public education system. The judges took particular issue with the fact that Ramdas expressed these political views while associating himself with the name of the institute. As the court stated, “The Petitioner has full freedom of expressing his political view; but to do so under the banner of Respondent Institute is what is objected to by the Institute.”

Referring to the Honour Code that students are required to abide by, the court noted that students explicitly undertake not to “malign the name of the Institution by presenting views on any platform, tarnishing/damaging the name of the institution in the public domain.” The bench held that Ramdas had violated this code by expressing his political stance under the TISS banner.

Another dimension of the court’s ruling pertained to the institute’s consideration of Ramdas’s past conduct. The student had reportedly taken part in an overnight protest outside the TISS Director’s bungalow, where students engaged in sloganeering that, according to the court, interfered with the Director’s personal life and rights. Though TISS had not taken disciplinary action for that incident at the time, the court held that it was within the institute’s rights to take such past conduct into account when determining punishment. The bench remarked, “It is settled position of law that in any inquiry, once the delinquent is given sufficient notice about past conduct or antecedents and opportunity is given to the reply to the same, the past conduct can be taken as material consideration while arriving at the quantum of punishment.”

The judges further reasoned that the two-year suspension was not disproportionate, nor did it amount to a violation of Ramdas’s fundamental right to freedom of expression. Since his conduct was found to be in breach of institutional rules, the court stated that disciplinary action was justified. The judgment concluded with a pointed remark about his use of public funds: “The Petitioner while enjoying the financial aid approved by the Respondent/Institute, participated in a clearly politically motivated protest in a student group under a banner having name PSF–TISS. Therefore, the necessary effect of such conduct on the decision of the Respondent Institute about grant is bound to follow.”

In view of these observations, the High Court dismissed the petition and upheld the disciplinary decision of TISS.

The complete order may be read here.

Ramdas vows to approach Supreme Court, calls suspension a threat to campus democracy

Following the Bombay High Court’s dismissal of his plea against suspension, Ramdas announced that he will challenge the verdict in the Supreme Court. Speaking to the Free Press Journal, Ramdas expressed his dismay at the outcome, stating, “It is shocking that the Hon. Bombay High Court dismissed the case after more than 10 months of legal procedure. Once I evaluate the full judgment, I will take this matter to the Supreme Court of India.”

He stressed that the issue goes beyond his individual case, arguing that it has wider implications for student rights and democratic expression within universities. “I deeply understand that this case is not just about me, but about the fundamental rights of all students and campus democracy in India’s higher education system. I believe this case may set a wrong precedent for universities across India to target students who have independent opinions. This is a brutal violation of Freedom of Expression guaranteed by the Constitution of India,” he said.

The controversy surrounding Ramdas’s suspension had also sparked broader concern within academic circles. On October 4, 2024, an assistant professor at the TISS Hyderabad campus, Arjun Sengupta, joined a student-led protest in solidarity with Ramdas. The demonstration was organised by the Progressive Students Organisation (PSO) and the Ambedkar Students’ Association at the institute’s off-campus centre. Shortly after his participation and a speech expressing support for Ramdas—parts of which circulated widely on social media—Sengupta was issued a show cause notice by the administration.

This sequence of events underscores growing unease over shrinking space for dissent in academic institutions and the increasing scrutiny faced by both students and faculty who voice critical or oppositional views.

Background of the Case: Political targeting alleged behind TISS student’s suspension

The suspension of Dalit PhD scholar Ramdas from TISS had raised questions about the repression of political expression in academic spaces. Following his suspension on April 18, 2024, the Progressive Students’ Forum (PSF) alleged that the institute had acted in retaliation for Ramdas’s activism, particularly his participation in a protest march.

According to the PSF, the TISS administration served Ramdas a show-cause notice on March 7, 2024, citing his involvement in the Parliament March and his social media post urging students to watch Ram Ke Naam, a 1992 National Award-winning documentary by Anand Patwardhan that critiques the Hindutva campaign behind the construction of the Ram temple in Ayodhya. The institute reportedly labelled this encouragement as an “anti-national act,” which added fuel to accusations that his suspension was politically motivated.

In response, TISS justified the suspension by claiming it was a consequence of “repetitive misconduct over a period of time.” In a statement dated April 20, 2024, the administration alleged that Ramdas had increasingly prioritised political activities over academic responsibilities. “Throughout his tenure, Ramdas KS exhibited a shift in focus towards activities unrelated to his academic pursuits, engaging in events, protests, and other activities influenced by personal political agendas,” it stated. The administration added that despite “repeated verbal and written advisories” to focus on his academic work, Ramdas had failed to comply.

In May 2024, Ramdas filed a petition before the Bombay High Court challenging his suspension. He argued that the disciplinary action violated his fundamental rights, particularly his right to freedom of speech and association, as guaranteed by the Constitution. His petition contended that the institute had constructed a false narrative to punish him for his political beliefs and activism. In addition to seeking a revocation of the suspension order, Ramdas requested permission to return to campus, resume his academic activities, and receive his scholarship stipend, which had also been withheld.

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The post Dissent Under Siege: Police action, suspensions, and the shrinking democratic space at TISS appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The ruling coalition—the Maha Yuti alliance comprising the Shinde Shiv Sena, Bharatiya Janata Party, and Ajit Pawar’s National Congress Party—has come under scrutiny for its ties to many of these incidents, with local leaders and affiliates implicated in attacks, intimidation, and censorship. These actions point to a growing intolerance for criticism and opposition, particularly against those who dare to report or speak out on politically sensitive issues. Maharashtra, long celebrated for its robust economic stature and industrial might, now faces an identity crisis as it grapples with the question: can it retain its democratic spirit under a regime increasingly willing to punish dissent?

Journalists have borne the brunt of this hostility, facing threats, physical assaults, and even murder. In 2023, the shocking death of Shashikant Warishe, a journalist in Ratnagiri, who was run over after publishing a critical report linking a BJP-affiliated land broker to political elites, underscores the risks that Maharashtra’s press faces today. Meanwhile, activists protesting environmental degradation and displacement, as well as students voicing concerns over academic freedom, have encountered police harassment, legal intimidation, and restrictions that send a clear message: criticism of the state’s policies will not be tolerated.

As the election nears, Maharashtra’s citizens are at the crossroads. For a state that prides itself on its industrial strength and democratic values, these growing restrictions pose an existential challenge. The upcoming polls are not only about choosing the next set of leaders but about deciding the kind of society Maharashtra aspires to be—one that respects democratic freedoms and protects the rights of its citizens or one that endorses a politics of fear and control. The choice before voters has seldom been clearer or more consequential, as the future of free speech, accountability, and the right to dissent hangs in the balance.

1. Mounting threats to journalists and press freedom

The Free Speech Collective provided the following list of incidents that took place between Jan 2023- November 2024 under this category:

“Killing

1. 06.02.2023: Shashikant Warishe, mowed down by Pandarinath Amberkar (land broker close to BJP) , Rajapur, Ratnagiri district

Attacks

1. 09.08.2023: Journalist Sandip Mahajan attacked by supporters of the local MLA Kishor Appa Patil (Shiv Sena Shinde )
2. 09.02.2024: Senior journalist Nikhil Wagle,lawyer Asim Sarode, activists Vishwambhar Choudhar and Shreya Awale and driver Vaibhav Kothule attacked by BJP and Shiv Sena (Shinde) workers
3. 21.10.2024: Political leader Yogendra Yadav attacked by Vanchit Bahujana Aghadi workers and prevented from speaking, Akola, Maharastra

Threats

1. 27.04.2024: Journalist Sukhda Sadanand Purav threatened by supporters of Union Minister and BJP’s Mumbai North Lok Sabha candidate Piyush Goyal
2. 14.05.2024: Journalist threatened by BJP state spokesperson Shrish Boralkar, BJP Scheduled Caste cell state general secretary Jalinder Shendge and the BJP state executive member Anil Makariye
3. 20.08.2024: Journalist Mohini Jadhav covering the Badlapur rape case, threatened by Waman Mhatre, former Mayor of Badlapur (Shiv Sena Shinde)”

In Maharashtra, the chilling effect on press freedom is undeniable, with recent incidents revealing the grave risks journalists face in reporting the truth. One of the most harrowing incidents was the murder of journalist Shashikant Warishe on February 6, 2023, in Ratnagiri. Warishe was deliberately run down by Pandarinath Ambekar, a land broker known for his close connections with the ruling BJP. Warishe’s last article had shed light on Ambekar’s alleged involvement in controversial land deals tied to high-ranking politicians, including the Chief Minister. Hours after the article was published, Ambekar had allegedly attacked Warishe in a brazen display of intimidation meant to silence dissent. This brutal killing laid bare the high cost of reporting on politically sensitive issues in Maharashtra, where exposing inconvenient truths can cost a journalist their life.

The climate of impunity extends further, as seen in the assault on Pachora journalist Sandip Mahajan in Jalgaon district on August 9, 2023. Mahajan was attacked in broad daylight by supporters of local Shinde Shiv Sena MLA Kishor Appa Patil. Despite serious injuries, Mahajan encountered bureaucratic resistance when he tried to file a First Information Report (FIR). His struggle highlighted the systemic bias that protects those with political connections and discourages journalists from challenging power.

Threats against journalists have become a common tool to control narratives. In April 2024, Sukhda Sadanand Purav, a journalist who covered Union Minister Piyush Goyal, received menacing messages from BJP affiliates, pressuring her to retract critical articles. In May 2024, three BJP officials, including state spokesperson Shrish Boralkar, allegedly threatened another journalist for unfavourable coverage. A similar incident in August saw former Badlapur mayor Waman Mhatre intimidate journalist Mohini Jadhav for her reports on a local rape case. Such acts send a chilling signal that political commentary comes with personal risk, eroding the very foundation of an independent press.

2. Rising intimidation and censorship in academia

The Free Speech Collective provided the following list of incidents that took place between Jan 2023- November 2024 under this category:

“Censorship in academia

1. 08.06.2023: Professor forced to go on leave after students owing allegiance to hindutva groups protest her comments on rapists having no religion, Kolhapur Institute of Technology, Gokul Shirgaon, Kolhapur
2. Jan 28, 2023: Advisory issued to Students At Mumbai’s TISS against screening of BBC Series On PM Modi, screening held despite warning
3. 18.04. 2024: TISS suspends Dalit PhD student for 2 years for ‘anti-national activities’
4. 19.08.2024: TISS Ban on student body Progressive Students’ Forum, revoked after student protests
5. 20.09.2024: TISS convocation: students protest suspension of Dalit pupil, sacking of teachers, student Arghya Das forcibly removed and degree certificate withheld
6. Oct 20, 2024: TISS issues showcause notice to assistant prof over viral protest video” 

Academic institutions, often pillars of intellectual freedom, have also been deeply affected by the [partisan and oppressive environment prevailing in the country. In particular, the Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS) in Mumbai has faced growing pressure to limit political discourse and protest, acting on which they have targeted Adivasi and Dalits scholars. On April 18, 2024, TISS took the drastic step of suspending a Dalit Ph.D. student, namely  Ramadas Prini Sivanandan, for alleged “anti-national activities,” citing his participation in student protests against government policies. The decision stirred widespread outrage on campus, with students calling it an abuse of administrative power to stifle dissent. The tension came to a head at TISS’s convocation in September, when students staged a protest demanding justice for the suspended student and for faculty members dismissed under similar circumstances. When Arghya Das, a graduating student, raised a placard during the ceremony, security forces forcibly removed him, withheld his degree, and detained him. These actions show how academic institutions in Maharashtra are increasingly becoming battlegrounds for free expression and political dissent.

Outside of TISS, other academic figures face similar repression. In June 2023, a professor at the Kolhapur Institute of Technology was placed on “forced leave” after responding to derogatory comments made by students affiliated with Hindutva groups. When she stated that “rapists have no religion,” her remarks went viral in a heavily edited form, fuelling a backlash from right-wing organisations that pressured the institution to remove her. This case underscores how ideological factions are working to shape the narrative within classrooms, using intimidation to limit critical discourse on topics of social justice.

3. The crackdown on activism and environmental protests

The Free Speech Collective provided the following list of incidents that took place between Jan 2023- November 2024 under this category:

“Censorship of peoples’ protests, activists

1. January-March 2023: Detentions and externment orders of villagers and activists protesting Saudi-Aramco refinery in Barsu-Solgaon region, Ratnagiri
2. November 2023-March 2024 : Externment notice and proceedings against Aarey activist Tabrez Sayed, Mumbai
3. Oct 6, 2024: Rally Held in Mumbai Against Israel’s Aggression, Notices Issued to Organisers

Lawfare

1. 11.07.2024: Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill, 2024, tabled in the Monsoon session of the Vidhan Sabha, draconian provisions against dissent and public protests; bill lapsed”

Beyond academia, Maharashtra’s crackdown on dissent extends to environmental and social activists. In Ratnagiri, protests against a Saudi-Aramco refinery in Barsu-Solgaon saw a wave of detentions and legal intimidation beginning in January 2023. Villagers and activists opposed the refinery due to fears of environmental degradation, displacement, and health hazards. In response, the government imposed externment orders, effectively banning key activists from their own villages, while deploying police forces to suppress protests. The government’s tactics not only disrupted peaceful demonstrations but sought to stifle dissent by removing activists from their communities.

The repressive approach continued with the case of Tabrez Sayed, a central figure in Mumbai’s Save Aarey movement, who was served multiple legal notices for his role in protests against the destruction of the Aarey forest. The planned metro construction in Aarey would decimate significant green space and displace indigenous communities, yet activists like Sayed faced mounting legal threats and harassment for voicing environmental concerns.

In July 2024, the Maharashtra government took a decisive step to institutionalise this repression by introducing the Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill. Introduced by Home Minister Devendra Fadnavis, the bill ostensibly aimed to counter “urban naxals” but granted sweeping powers to the state to curb any form of organised protest. If passed, the bill would allow authorities to detain activists, seize assets, and dismantle movements deemed to threaten public order. Though it was not enacted, there is widespread concern that if the Mahayuti coalition retains power, the bill will resurface, providing legal cover for the clampdown on activism and free expression across the state.

4. Judiciary’s response: A mixed outcome

The Free Speech Collective provided the following list of incidents that took place between Jan 2023- November 2024 under this category:

“Court cases

1. 22.08.2024: The bench of Justice Revati Mohite Dere and Justice Shyam C. Chandak of the Bombay High Court terms the arrest of journalist Abhijit Arjun Padale I January 2022 as illegal, awards compensation
2. 20.09.2024: Justice A.S. Chandurkar of the Bombay High Court delivered a “tie breaker” judgment in the case of Kunal Kamra and Ors. v. Union of India wherein he struck down the amendment to Rule 3 (1)(b)(v) (“Impugned Rule”) of the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Amendment Rules, 2023 (“IT Rules 2023”), seeking to set up a Fact Check Unit (“FCU”) to fact check content on social media, as unconstitutional.
3. 07.03.2024: Supreme Court quashes criminal charges against Javed Ahmed Hajam, professor at Sanjay Ghodawat College in Kolhapur district who hails from Baramulla, Jammu and Kashmir, for his WhatsApp status describing abrogation of Article 370 as a ‘Black Day’”

Amid these escalating threats to freedom of expression, the judiciary has occasionally acted as a safeguard. In a landmark case on September 20, 2024, the Bombay High Court declared unconstitutional an amendment within the Information Technology Rules that sought to establish a government-controlled Fact Check Unit to monitor social media. This decision, protecting online freedom of speech, was widely seen as a victory against excessive government surveillance.

Another judicial victory came in March 2024 when the Supreme Court quashed criminal charges against Javed Ahmed Hajam, a professor originally from Jammu and Kashmir working in Kolhapur, who had been charged for his WhatsApp status labelling the abrogation of Article 370 as a “Black Day.” These legal rulings underscore the judiciary’s crucial role in defending free speech, even as repressive measures intensify. However, given the scale of incidents affecting freedom of expression, these victories feel isolated within a broader context of diminishing rights.

Why the upcoming elections are critical

In Maharashtra, where economic development and social challenges coexist, the state’s stance on freedom of expression has profound implications. The forthcoming elections in Maharashtra, the voting for which will take place on November 20, represent a watershed moment for civil liberties and democratic values in the state. The Maha Yuti coalition’s tenure has seen a sharp increase in suppression of dissent, targeting journalists, activists, and academics with intimidation, legal threats, and violence. The attacks on the press, the censorship within universities, and the harassment of activists all suggest that the coalition’s governance model rests on silencing opposition. If these trends continue, they threaten to redefine the state’s relationship with free speech, casting a long shadow over Maharashtra’s future as a democratic society.

The ruling coalition’s recent actions highlight a troubling trajectory away from democratic ideals, where dissent is criminalised, and accountability becomes rare. The stakes of this election extend beyond the immediate political outcomes—it will shape the future of civil liberties, set a precedent for free expression, and either affirm or reject Maharashtra’s commitment to democratic values.

The elections present an opportunity for the people of Maharashtra to address these deepening infringements. For a state that grapples with high poverty rates, farmer suicides, and rising unemployment, the stifling of public discourse is not just an attack on individual freedoms but a barrier to addressing systemic social issues. Without a robust media and space for activism, these pressing issues will likely remain unaddressed, and the public’s capacity to hold leaders accountable will diminish.

If voters decide to support parties that pledge to protect free speech, it could signal a shift toward a governance model that values transparency and accountability. Conversely, if the current regime is re-elected, the impending revival of the Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill and other repressive measures could entrench authoritarianism in the state, silencing dissent for years to come.

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The post Maharashtra: Free speech has remained on the line of fire of the current regime, democracy on trial as state goes for election appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The said statement comes on days after the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology (MeitY), at the behest of the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) issued emergency order directing top social media companies like Facebook, Instagram, Reddit, X and Snapchat to block 177 accounts and links related to the farmers’ protest in order to maintain ‘public order’. Notably, these blocking orders were issued on February 14 and 19 and demand that specified accounts be suspended for the duration of the protest and be restored after the same is over. The statement released on the X account of Global Government Affairs touches upon the issues of the issuance of these executive orders, the writ petition against the powers of the union and the lack of transparency, which has been provided and discussed below.

Issuance of executive orders of blocking by the union government:

The statement released by the social media platform stated that “The Indian government has issued executive orders requiring X to act on specific accounts and posts, subject to potential penalties including significant fines and imprisonment.  In compliance with the orders, we will withhold these accounts and posts in India alone; however, we disagree with these actions and maintain that freedom of expression should extend to these posts.”

Section 69A of the Information Act, 2000 (IT Act) empowers the union government to issue take down orders or blocking orders in India. The said legal provision states that the Union government can issue blocking orders to platforms in the interests of the sovereignty and integrity of India, defence of the country, security of the state, friendly relations with foreign states, public order, and so on. These powers are being increasingly used by the Modi-led government to clamp down on any critical voices against his government and policies.

The writ petition by X Corp against these blocking orders:

In the statement released by X, it is further stated that “Consistent with our position, a writ appeal challenging the Indian government’s blocking orders remains pending. We have also provided the impacted users with notice of these actions in accordance with our policies.”

This sheds light on the ongoing legal proceedings taking place in the Karnataka High Court against the blocking orders being issued by the Union government by invoking Section 69A of the IT Act in complete darkness. On July 1, 2022, X Corp filed a writ petition in the Karnataka High Court after having complied with blocking orders issued by the Union government “under protest”. Through the petition, X had contested the blocking of 39 URLs out of a total of 1,474 accounts and 175 tweets. According to the platform, the directive to block all accounts violated Section 69A and that the banning orders “demonstrate an excessive use of powers and are disproportionate” and are “procedurally and substantially deficient of the provision”. The platform had further argued that the Central government lacked the authority to issue general orders requesting the disabling of social media accounts and that such orders must include justifications that should be made known to users. Moreover, it also specified that only when the nature of the content complied with the requirements set forth in Section 69A of the IT Act could a blocking order be issued.

On June 30, a single judge bench of the Karnataka High Court had dismissed the said petition brought in by X Corp (then Twitter Inc.) by holding the company’s argument to be “devoid of merits.” Interestingly, the bench of Justice Krishna S Dixit had also imposed the company with a 50 lakh rupee fee to be paid to the Karnataka State Legal Services Authority within 45 days of the judgement.

In October of 2023, the appeal preferred by X Corp against the dismissal of its plea by a single judge bench was accepted by the division bench of Justice G Narendar and Justice Vijaykumar A Patil after MeitY had informed the court that the government will not be reconsidering the blocking orders. As the appeal was accepted, the bench indicated that it would consider the issue of whether reasons of the blocking orders passed by the Ministry are to be communicated to the platform, users of the accounts. It remarked that recording reasons is mandatory.

Notably, during the January 30, 2024 hearing of the case, X Corp had argued against the Union Government review committee’s non-disclosure of its orders upholding the blocking of several posts on the platform. A Division Bench consisting of Acting Chief Justice Dinesh Kumar and Justice Shivashankare Gowda was hearing the said case. The counsel for X Corp, Sajjan Poovayya, had informed the court that with several of the blocking orders having been upheld by a review committee, the appellants were yet to be provided with a copy of the orders as they were deemed to be “secret”. It was further submitted by the counsel that as contesting such the emergency blocking orders is not easy, which is even the case in issuance of regular blocking orders, around 1,500 pieces of content were removed with a one line order. With regard to the same, the counsel questioned how the orders could be kept secret when the relevant statute stated that reasons had to be recorded. The social media giant had also raised concerns that the Review Committee had never actually met as required under Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules (IT Rules).  Based upon these arguments, an Interlocutory Application (IA) had been moved by the appellants to gain access to the orders issued by the review committee upholding the blocking orders of the government, by deeming the same to be crucial to their case in contesting these government orders.

Ironically, on February 21, the union government had argued against the IA moved by the social media platform to gain access to the review committee reports by stating that they had no right to access to the same since X Corp is merely an intermediary and not the author or creator of the blocked content.

As per the government, a review of the decisions to block internet content under Section 69A of the Information Technology Act serves as a safeguard against arbitrary usage of power and only the creators of the accounts or tweets can invoke this safeguard. The government further contended that review under Rule 14 of the IT Rules is an internal and independent safeguard mechanism and there exists no requirement to hear any party before passing the review orders.

“A party aggrieved by the blocking orders has the option of seeking judicial review, and has no right to insist on access to the proceedings of the Review Committee. The appellant (X Corp), being an intermediary, certainly has no locus standi to seek access to the proceedings of the Review Committee,” the counsel for the union stated as per Bar and Bench.

Lastly, during the said hearing, the government also highlighted that in the writ petition, X Corp had only challenged the blocking of 39 URLs, while through the IA it is now questioning 1,096 blocking directions. The government had also challenged this move, terming it an attempt to widen the scope of X Corp’s challenge.

The next hearing in the X Corp’s writ appeal is slated to be held by the High Court’s division bench in March 2024.

Non-publishing of the executive orders by X Corp

The statement further specifies the legal restrictions prohibiting them from publishing these executive orders and stated “Due to legal restrictions, we are unable to publish the executive orders, but we believe that making them public is essential for transparency. This lack of disclosure can lead to a lack of accountability and arbitrary decision-making.”

It is pertinent to highlight here that since 2023, pursuant to the takeover of the social media platform by Musk, X had stopped sharing takedown notices issued by the Indian government with Lumen Database, a website that collects and analyses legal complaints and requests for removal of online material. The same had been specified by Lumen Database who had said “As of April 15, 2023, Twitter has not submitted copies of any of the takedown notices it receives to Lumen. According to Lumen’s persons of contact there, Twitter’s 3rd party data sharing policies are under review, and they will update Lumen once there is more information.” 

The complete statement uploaded on Global Government Affairs can be read here:

The Indian government has issued executive orders requiring X to act on specific accounts and posts, subject to potential penalties including significant fines and imprisonment.

In compliance with the orders, we will withhold these accounts and posts in India alone; however,…

— Global Government Affairs (@GlobalAffairs) February 21, 2024

It is also essential to point out here that while the said statement has been made public by X Corp, no list with specific names against whom actions based on the executive orders have been taken is provided.

Legal provisions required compliance by X Corp to government orders

Releasing the statement while distancing itself from the oppressive censorship tactics being followed by the government marked X’s first confrontation with the Indian government since Musk took ownership of the micro-blogging platform. The existing legal structure of India is such that the social media giant can face serious consequences in case it does not comply with the orders being issued by the government in taking action, including suspension, withholding and taking down of accounts, against certain accounts or content.

The infamous section 69A of the IT Act provides that “The intermediary who fails to comply with the direction issued under sub-section (1) shall be punished with an imprisonment for a term which may extend to seven years and shall also be liable to fine.” In simple words, if any intermediary, in this case X Corp, refuses to comply with the orders of the government, they may have to bear monetary fines as well as be subjected to a significant jail term. It is in this regard that in April 2023, Musk had deemed the social media laws in India to be ‘quite strict’ and that the company could not go beyond the laws of the country. Being compliant with India’s laws is better than having employees go to jail, Musk had stated as per the Economic Times.

Prior to Musk, Dorsey, who quit as Twitter CEO in 2021, had in an interview claimed that during his tenure as CEO, Twitter received requests from the Indian government to block accounts covering the 2020-2021 farmers’ protests and those critical of the government. Dorsey had also alleged that the Indian government had threatened the social networking platform with raids if it did not take down critical content during the farmers’ protests against the three farm laws.

“It manifested in ways such as: ‘We will shut Twitter down in India’, which is a very large market for us; ‘We will raid the homes of your employees’, which they did; and this is India, a democratic country,” Dorsey had said. It is important to highlight here that in the year 2021, Delhi Police’s special cell had ‘visited’ the Delhi and Gurgaon offices of Twitter, as was then known as, to serve notice to India’s managing director about an investigation into the social media giant’s tagging of a post by a ruling party spokesman, namely Sambit Patra, as “manipulated media”. While the aforementioned investigation had been used as a guise, the ‘visit’ had been a result of the current dispensation in 2021 asking Twitter to block certain provocative hashtags and the then Twitter initially gave in to the demand but it rolling back its decision citing ‘insufficient justification’.

In addition to this, the union government could also revoke X’s safe harbour that is granted to the platform under Section 79 of the IT Act. The said status protects intermediaries from being held responsible for “any third-party information, data, or communication link made available or hosted” on its platform.

Pressure building on social media platform to bow before the Modi government

The current regime has applied increasing pressure on social media platforms to control the information as well as the criticism that circulates on social media. With mainstream media already under control, and the independent media facing cases and suspension of licences,  the right to speech and expression as well as the right to information, both guaranteed by Article 19(1)(a) of the Indian Constitution, are threatened. By employing these repressive and oppressive steps, the Modi-led government is following the path of other autocratic countries, such as Russia, that is trying to control how and where messages can spread on social media. One should not forget that in March of 2021, the Russian government had provided that it would slow access to Twitter and in turn control one of the few places where Russians openly criticise the government.

Recently, privacy advocate Apar Gupta had taken to X to write on this issue. He had stated:

“Blocking orders for Twitter accounts of farm leaders have been issued in advance. This form of pre-censorship is without any transparency or natural justice.”

Twitter under new ownership will no longer disclose the URLs to the Lumen Database taking away any transparency. It also lost the Karnataka High Court case which employed theocratic (as opposed to constitutional) reasoning. I wrote on this separately, but that’s an aside.

The government on its part will not disclose or submit to accountability. Why block entire accounts in advance? Is the account itself illegal? It will not bother asking these questions for fewer people will ask them today than two years ago. As its march towards total power becomes menacing it commands greater levels of social compliance. Either by discipline, despondency or indoctrination. This is not surprising, what does provide anguish is the vile commentary against farmers on social media. How easy it is to forget that close to 750 protestors who lost their lives? Have we as a society lost all civility in disagreement?”

His post can be read here:

Twitter was a reliable and timely medium for farmers during their protests in 2020-21.

They issued official press releases, documented police excesses, built community and sympathy for their cause with hashtags. It became a vital informational pipeline for farmers to convey…

— Apar (@apar1984) February 13, 2024

To know about the farmers’ Protest, read here.

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The post ‘X’ distances itself from the clampdown on freedom of expression by blocking accounts on the executive orders of the Union government appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Fascists are known for their highly manipulative strategies which are meticulously planned. Top on their priority list is to throttle freedom of speech and expression, to curb every form of dissent and to do all they can to hide the plain truth and grim reality. They leave no stone unturned in order to attain their insidious ends: they threaten, they coopt, they compromise, they foist false cases, they intimidate and harass, use draconian laws like the UAPA to curb dissent; they misuse official agencies like the ED, the NIA, the CBI and even the police, to hound those who take visible and vocal stands; they incarcerate and even kill. It is not easy for journalists in India today to speak truth to power: journalism is under great duress!

It did not come as a great surprise that in the World Press Freedom Index, 2023, released last May, that India had reached an abysmal low rank of 161 out of 180 countries; slipping eleven notches from its previous ranking; freedom of the press in India is much worse than even its neighbours like Pakistan and Sri Lanka. This does not augur well for the future of democracy! Once the fourth pillar of democracy is throttled, made subservient to the whims and facies of the political masters, it does not leave much of an imagination to realise, that more than half the battle is lost.

The World Press Index 2023, says it all, as it minces no words commenting on the pathetic state of the press in India stating, “the violence against journalists, the politically partisan media and the concentration of media ownership all demonstrate that press freedom is in crisis in “the world’s largest democracy”, ruled since 2014 by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the leader of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and the embodiment of the Hindu nationalist right.”

The highly professional and authentically objective report continues to say, “with an average of three or four journalists killed in connection with their work every year, India is one of the world’s most dangerous countries for the media. Journalists are exposed to all kinds of physical violence including police violence, ambushes by political activists, and deadly reprisals by criminal groups or corrupt local officials. Supporters of Hindutva, the ideology that spawned the Hindu far right, wage all-out online attacks on any views that conflict with their thinking. Terrifying coordinated campaigns of hatred and calls for murder are conducted on social media, campaigns that are often even more violent when they target women journalists, whose personal data may be posted online as an additional incitement to violence. The situation is also still very worrisome in Kashmir, where reporters are often harassed by police and paramilitaries, with some being subjected to so-called “provisional” detention for several years.”

Where then, does Catholic journalism stand, in the wake of the onslaught that media in India in general, is subject to? Do they have the courage to exercise the prophetic mission to speak truth to power? Or have they also succumbed to the fears and duress to which media in general has fallen to? Questions which are rhetoric in nature, because the answers are obvious! By and large (barring a few notable exceptions) Catholic journalists and Catholic media in general, have abdicated their prime responsibility of speaking truth to power!

In January 2004, the General Assembly of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of India (CBCI) held in Thrissur, Kerala, produced a path-breaking statement, ‘Called to be a Communicating Church’ in which they highlighted “that media have a prophetic role, indeed a vocation: to speak out against the false gods and ideals of the day — materialism, hedonism, consumerism and narrow nationalism”. The statement called for a Pastoral Plan for Communications which was meant to be implemented in every Diocese in India. How many of our Dioceses are today actually implementing this plan with empowered Communications Commissions (and with lay members) to monitor them? How many have spokespersons, particularly in the vernacular?

It is true that journalism today, is under duress! But should Catholic journalists also enter this comfort zone and continue with its projects, productions and ‘feel-good’ ‘sitting-on-the-fence’ communications? Don’t they have the moral and non-negotiable responsibility of responding to the cries of the poor and the vulnerable, the excluded and exploited, the marginalised and the minorities of the country? How many have written incisive articles on the reality which is destroying Manipur and the victimisation of the Muslims of Haryana? How many have written/done productions against the sedition, the UAPA and other draconian laws? the illegal incarceration of human rights defenders? the unconstitutional abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A regarding Kashmir? Has there been any concerted effort to rubbish false propaganda movies like the ‘Kashmir Files’ or the ‘Kerala Story’? the anti-conversion laws? the three farm bills and the labour codes? the monstrous and extravagant Central Vista project?  The mining mafia which is looting the country of its natural resources and denying the Adivasis of their jal, jungle aur jameen? what about the legitimate rights of the Dalits, LGBTQI and other vulnerable communities? the growing unemployment and spiralling prices? and much more? Catholic journalists must have the prophetic courage to take on the fascist and fundamentalist forces which are working overtime, to destroy the sanctity of the Constitution and the secular, pluralistic fabric of our beloved nation.

Indian Catholic journalists must take a cue from and be inspired by St Titus Brandsma. St. Titus, a Dutch Carmelite priest was a fearless, prophetic journalist. He was spiritual adviser to the Dutch Association of Catholic Journalists in 1935 and became its president after the Nazi invasion of the Netherlands. He worked with the Dutch bishops’ in crafting their message opposing Nazi ideology and the forced publication of propaganda in Catholic newspapers. Following Germany’s invasion of the Netherlands in 1940, Brandsma defended the freedom of Catholic education and the Catholic press against Nazi pressure. In the face of great risk, he visited the offices of Catholic media outlets around the country over the course of ten days, encouraging editors to resist pressure to publish Nazi propaganda. His actions drew the ire of the Nazi regime who arrested him in 1942. Several months later, he was transported to the Dachau concentration camp where he was killed by a lethal injection of carbolic acid. He had to pay the ultimate price for his visible and vocal stand against Nazim. St. John Paul II, who beatified him on 3 November 1985, defined Brandsma as a “valiant journalist” and a “martyr of freedom of expression against the tyranny of the dictatorship.”

The poem ‘Freedom’ of our Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore, should inspire Catholic journalists to move into a more meaningful and fearless realm:

Freedom from fear is the freedom

I claim for you, my motherland!

Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,

breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning

call of the future;

Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith

you fasten yourself in night’s stillness,

mistrusting the star that speaks of truth’s adventurous paths;

freedom from the anarchy of destiny

whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,

and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world,

where movements are started through brainless wires,

repeated through mindless habits,

where figures wait with patience and obedience for the

master of show,

to be stirred into a mimicry of life.

It is certainly not easy to be a journalist in India today: one thing is clear, that if you stick your neck out, if you are visible and vocal, if you stand up for truth and justice; you will have to pay the price: and that price is heavy indeed! It is however worth it, for the future of our country!  Brandsma and Tagore show the way!

(The author is a human rights, reconciliation and peace activist/writer. He is the recipient of several international and national awards including ICPA’s ‘Louis Careno Award’ in 2021).

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Bishops of India must protest & speak out for peace, against injustices in Manipur & India: Jesuit priest

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Over the past weeks we have been performing our play Words Have Been Uttered (WHBU), which is an exploration of the idea of dissent. It’s not structured as a conventional play (one major theatre festival in India even rejected it because it didn’t fit into their definition of a theatre piece).

WHBU is eight of us, actors, and a musician, sitting in a shallow semi-circle, with our books, our texts, and musical instruments sharing with the audience a diverse selection of creative expressions of dissent. We read, recite, sing, and perform scenes from theatre, poetry, songs, satirical pieces, and even personal writings from across time, across cultures, across languages. These amazing texts question caste, gender, organized religion, superstition, authoritarianism, majoritarianism, notions of nationalism and much more, illuminating how nuanced the idea of dissent is, and how universal it is.

I usually introduce the evening to the audience to prepare them for what is to follow, and while doing so I acknowledge that the while the idea of dissent in our times seems particularly loaded and edgy, it has always been so. It is not easy for any society to deal with dissent, and it requires maturity and tremendous self-belief to engage with dissent in a positive and constructive way. Ideas need space to be aired, and people who are willing to listen. We need to be able to listen, agree, or disagree, and move on without fear of violence, humiliation, and threat.

We all agree that such spaces are shrinking, and we believe that theatre, in a fundamental way, offers such a space. The isolation of Covid-19 times brought into sharp focus what it means to be able to assemble and engage with live performance. A space where you enter as an individual and very quickly become a part of a group of people sharing a unique moment. Theatre is about story-telling, about personal experiences, and the use of metaphor. The mode of communication can be nuanced and appeal to mind and to the heart. Such a space can nurture ideas and open conversations – and be a radical counter to the frightening culture of hate, intolerance, violence and majoritarianism that we see around us. The overall response to Words Have Been Uttered by different kinds of audience validates this belief.

We are faced with challenges all the time whether it is censorship, cynicism, or of the threat of recrimination from the state. But the biggest enemy of arts practitioners which is perhaps the most difficult to overcome is self-censorship.

Over the past 10 to 15 years our work at Theatre Arpana, and Tamaasha Theatre has been across various genres of theatre practice and has been engaging with and presenting the complex nature of contemporary India, in conventional theatre spaces as well as in various alternative spaces. The work spans across themes and issues that concern modern Indian society, across class, caste, gender and other inequalities. Our choice of work has been possible because of an understanding of the theatre ecosystem in India, careful strategising, and a belief that theatre can respond to our times without losing out on audience engagement, and in fact, by celebrating the human spirit.

We may then wonder why the potential of theatre to play this role is not explored often enough. There are many different reasons why people make theatre. There is a large theatre practice which believes that theatre has to entertain and no more, a conviction shared with practitioners of other forms like cinema.  Unfortunately, the accepted norm is that entertainment and meaningful work cannot go hand in hand. This is not a place to argue that point, but I will add that cross overs have been tried, and several have succeeded. There are many examples in Marathi language theatre for instance where plays and theatre makers, both, have straddled the worlds of commerce and artistic practice. In our own work we have deliberately tried to place “our kind” of theatre thinking in mainstream spaces, and while we may not have been able to sustain this over time, our attempts have not been entirely unsuccessful.

Our 2012 production of Ramu Ramnathan’s play Cotton 56, Polyester 84 was a re-telling of the history of the textile mill workers of Mumbai. Told by two out of work mill workers, the play was developed by Ramu based on interviews with mill workers and their families, from court room trials where textile trade unions fought the powerful mill owners to secure the rights of mill workers, and Meena Menon and Neera Adarkar’s oral history of the history of Mumbai’s textile mills and trade unions. The play brought to light the suppressed history, subculture and marginalisation of the mill workers of Mumbai, whose plight was largely ignored in the raging public debate on the development of the mill lands.

As you can imagine Cotton 56 could be no stretch of imagination be called a conventional entertainer, and yet audiences in Mumbai and across the country responded to the play both intellectually and emotionally.

A few years later we made Sex, Morality, and Censorship written by Shanta Gokhale and Irawati Karnik, which dealt with the idea of censorship by examining the censorship of Vijay Tendulkar’s play Sakharam Binder in 1972. Using archival material from India and abroad, theatre history, arguments and scenes from Sakharam Binder, the play was again not conventional story telling. As a director I was very aware that we were constructing an argument about censorship of a play in the context of its times. Sex, Morality and Censorship went on to perform across the country, often in large auditoria, engaging with diverse audiences who seemed to connect to the ideas of the play.

In Loretta we adapted the colourful Goan Tiatr tradition to talk about narrow parochialism, language and identity, and linguistic purity and hybridity. This at a time when we were being asked to prove our “Indian-ness” by the rapidly growing ranks of right wing bhakts.

In Words Have Been Uttered we tried to push our own boundaries further by dispensing with frills and narrative support devices, and concentrate purely on the core idea of the play – dissent.

These and several other examples have convinced us that even audiences whose only exposure is to the conventions of mainstream theatre can surprise you with their acceptance of new ideas, non-conventional forms of theatre making. Unfortunately, there are gate keepers, in our own community, who show scant respect for audience “intelligence” and perpetuate the myth that audiences are not willing to engage with plays that have a more meaningful intent.

It is within the ecosystem of “smaller theatre” you are more likely to find work that is artistic in intent and responds to the time. The is the space we largely inhabit for a variety of reasons. To begin with, the economics and availability of smaller spaces are manageable. Often audiences that come to smaller plays and spaces are seeking something different, and hence are more open to new ideas and conventions. That’s half our battle won.

The downside? We get comfortable, even complacent, in a safe space, and you may be “preaching to the converted”. Of course, gatherings like these have importance too. There is tremendous value in people who share similar beliefs gathering and experiencing something that validates, or expands, the world of ideas they subscribe to. We know this doesn’t happen enough, and we must be careful not to take a cynical view of this. But the need to reach out to new audiences is critical, and difficult as it maybe, there is not getting away from it.

When we founded Tamaasha Theatre about ten years ago we did so with the clearly stated intent of working outside conventional theatre spaces, creating a theatre of ideas, and forging a different relationship with an audience. We expanded our definition of theatre beyond merely producing and performing plays, to training, study, and audience building.

Audience building is one of the most important aspects of theatre practice. This is not about merely publicising your performances where you look to get an audience into the performance space. It’s about building a longer-term relationship with people so that they see themselves as co-travellers in your journey. When we build audiences we also look to create diversity so that a broader representation of society engages with the work and ideas. Various strategies help this – pricing of shows, open sharing of ideas, diverse programming to cater to specific interest and so on.

We run a studio space in Mumbai, as an arts centre, where theatre practitioners, students, musicians, and occasionally dancers can meet, make work, and perform for audiences that are enthusiastic about engaging with the arts in more than a passive way.  In the last few years, we have often asked ourselves, how do we respond to the times. There is our own need, and also an expectation from our audiences and from our larger community.

These are our some of our dilemmas:

The space available for alternatives views, ideologies, and thoughts has always been limited, but in more recent times the situation has become much more fraught. It doesn’t take much for someone to take objection to a piece of work, or a thought, and for the authorities to slap rather serious charges on the hapless “offender”

We are not activists, so are we psychologically and otherwise prepared for this kind of an eventuality?

On the other hand, today more than ever before, the need for alternative narratives is critical.

Why do artists have an added responsibility? Can art provide the nuances that journalism cannot? Even the best of journalism? Can art resist the numbing influence of the mainstream? We believe the answer to both is yes.

And two events that took place at our studio validated this belief.

The first was when we did an evening of Urdu texts – poetry and fiction – that dealt with different ideas of Kashmir. The texts were written by some well-known writers both from within Kashmir, and outside, and some less known voices. As you can imagine, the evening was somewhat tense for us. We are open to all audiences and we exercise no control on who attends. There is a degree of unpredictability to an evening such as this. But as the texts unfolded within the framework of a context which was both literary and political, we sensed a mood of deep involvement and thoughtfulness in the audience. There was emotion, there was humour, there was on offer many ways of seeing a land, a culture, and a people over time. In the post reading discussion that followed we saw restraint and responsibility in the way people spoke. Not all views were similar, but everyone heard the other out, and discussion flowed outside the venue into our open terrace space.

On another evening we had a rendering of texts from Palestine and Syria, but we were careful to frame it within the context of a land under occupation, and how common images and ideas are often found in the cultural expressions of people under siege.

This time in the post-performance discussion, after the first polite questions, a dam seemed to burst, and there was an animated discussion.  A sense of relief at being able to speak was palpable in the room. This time connections were made to radical poetry from other parts of India and the world. There was an honesty and open-ness that was powerful.

We really are in no position to understand what happens after an evening like this. Perhaps the conversations are forgotten, perhaps they remain. It’s hard to say. Also, we have touched no more than 40 people in an evening. A tiny, tiny micro drop in our vast ocean. Are we deluding ourselves about the impact?

Difficult questions …

For those of us who learnt our theatre fundamentals in the 1970s and 1980s the times we lived in had a deep impact on our view of theatre. This was a turbulent period — the great railway strike in 1974, Jayprakash Narayan’s “total revolution” which led to the clamping of Emergency by Indira Gandhi, the birth of the human rights movement, emergence of the Dalit Panther party, and the textile strike of 1982. It was very clear to us that your work wouldn’t be taken seriously if it did not respond to its times. Today the situation is more fraught because authoritarianism is highly visible and resistance to it virtually invisible. There seems endless darkness. But we often remind ourselves of the inspiring words of the great writer Toni Morrison, 

“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”

(Sunil Shanbag is a Mumbai based theatre director and producer. He is the co-founder and artistic director of Theatre Arpana, and Tamaasha Theatre. Over the past 45 years, Sunil’s work spans across themes and issues that concern modern Indian society, across class, caste, gender and other inequalities) 

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The post Breaking silences makes civilisations heal: theatre director, Sunil Shanbag appeared first on SabrangIndia.

To mark India at 75, PEN America reached out to authors from India and the Indian diaspora to write short texts expressing what they felt. Together they make a historic document. Authors who were born in British India responded, as did India’s Midnight’s Children and grandchildren. Authors from around the globe sent us their thoughts, as did authors from India’s many languages, communities, faiths and castes. Some voices are optimistic, some prayerful, some anguished and enraged. Some suggest defeat, others venture hope, still others are defiant. The authors hold a spectrum of political views, and may be in disagreement about much else, but they are united in their concern for the state of Indian democracy. We invite you to read their ideas of what India was and ought to be, and what it has become.

The entire report may be read here

 
Of the several pieces in the compilation, here are some that stand out:

ALTAF TYREWALA

I NEEDED A GOD TODAY

TODAY I needed to confess

That I was back to needing

A father in heaven

Back to needing

Being afraid of sin

Of hellfire and demons

And a belief in the invisible

I needed a god today

But he’s closed for business

The prayer house is padlocked

The priests have disappeared

A sign on the door says

Seek Me in your heart’s shrine

You mean that shrine I razed?

That altar I burned?

That sanctuary I demolished?

That pedestal I smashed?

What resides in those ruins

Is belief’s ghost

And the echo of a prayer

To never need a god again

I needed a god today

I needed to tell him

That heart’s shrine

Is now a mausoleum

To disbelief and to living

Altaf Tyrewala is the author of three fiction books and has edited a crime fiction anthology. His works have been published around the world and he was awarded the DAAD Artist-in-Berlin literature grant. He has also curated a literature festival. He hails from Mumbai and now lives in Dallas.

JERRY PINTO

1977. A cinema hall in Mahim, Mumbai. Amar Akbar Anthony is playing. It is a Manmohan Desai special, which means we, the audience, those who love Hindi films, were ready for a rollick. We did not expect to cry.

To those lucky people who have not seen AAA, as we learned to call it: A terrible rich man kills someone by mistake; he asks his loyal driver, Kishanlal, to take the blame and promises that he will look after the driver’s family and his three children. Kishanlal takes the fall, goes to jail and when he comes out, he finds his wife is dying of tuberculosis and his sons are starving. He goes to confront his boss and in return for his loyalty, his boss orders his henchmen to kill Kishanlal. He eludes them and jumps into a car full of gold bullion and comes home to find his wife has gone off to commit suicide. The goons are still in hot pursuit so he stashes the children for safety in a nearby park, in the shadow of a statue of Mahatma Gandhi and continues to take evasive action. His eldest son runs after the car but is knocked down, and left by the side of the road. A policeman takes the boy home, adopts him and names him Amar. The second boy is adopted by a Muslim tailor and named Akbar. The third child falls asleep in front of a Christian church and is adopted by the priests; he is Anthony. The boys grow up and one day, they are called to a hospital to give blood to a woman who is in need of it. They do not know it but they are donating blood for their mother.

Now, everyone knows that when you go and donate your blood, you fill a bottle and it is whisked off to the blood bank. But in Manmohan Desai’s magnificent and corny spectacle making, this could not be how we would see it. The three young men are seen lying down in a ward and each would declare his name as a nurse hooked him up to a blood donation line.

“Amar,“ declares the Hindu as his blood rises up, against the laws of gravity, to meet the blood of Akbar and Anthony. And then these three bloodstreams, conjoined, flowed down into the arm of their mother.

The man in the next seat began to weep. The whole theater was weeping together as a song underlined the message: Kya iski keemat chukaani nahin? (Will you pay your debt?) They got it. You don’t get India unless you have Amar, Akbar and Anthony, blood and blood and blood, paying their debt to the motherland.

I wept too. I was eleven years old.

At the end of the film, we all came out of the theater having cried and laughed and rejoiced when the three brothers are reunited in the end.

I used to say that the trope of three brothers separated at birth and reunited at the end was Hindi cinema’s way of thinking about Pakistan and Bangladesh. That we don’t make these films any more is perhaps our way of reconciling to the new political reality of the subcontinent.

I showed the film to a group of students recently. One of them said: “I’d really like to know what happened afterwards. Was Akbar circumcised by his Muslim father? Did Anthony remain a Christian?”

On bad days and there are so many of them, I know the answer to that one. On days of hope, I cling to the promise/premise of those lines: Anhonee ko honee kar de, honee ko anhonee. Ek jagah jab jamaa ho teenon: Amar, Akbar, Anthony

A rough translation of which would be: When the three of us, when Amar and Akbar and Anthony, get together, we make the impossible, possible.

Jerry Pinto is a poet, novelist, and translator in Bombay, and the author of several works of fiction, translations, and poetry, including Em and the Big Hoom. He received the Windham-Campbell Prize for Fiction in 2016

KIRAN DESAI

Eight Haikus for Asifa, age 8

I

as if a girl is

evening blue and green that just

hovers a moment

before the night’s dark then falls

II

as if a girl is

what it takes to rape and kill

it takes a village

it takes a policeman

a temple custodian

a tax man, a son

who took the bus all the way from meerut because

it takes a village

III

as if a girl is

a mother without a child

the moon still rising

IV

as if a girl is

a bad luck curse parents flee

over this mountain

the next and over

the border to lose their names

so we can’t find them

V

as if a girl is

snow obscuring mountains

and lies covering truth

VI

as if a girl is

chinar leaves or grass marked red

bloodied by murder

VII

as if a girl is

a ghost making a devil

of us all

she haunts

VIII

as if a girl is

only eyes—that’s all that’s left

warning—don’t forget!

Eight year old Asifa was gang raped and murdered in a temple in 2018, Kathua, Kashmir. When she died she became a symbol of the hate that has overwhelmed today’s India. But she also became India’s daughter, the daughter of us all. India may be in darkness, but we will forever remember your light, Asifa!

Kiran Desai is the author of Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard and The Inheritance of Loss. Among her honors are a Guggenheim, a National Book Critics Circle Award and a Man Booker Prize

MADHUSREE MUKERJEE

15 August, 1942. Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Vallabhbhai Patel, Maulana Azad and thousands of other freedom fighters are in prison. More than 90,000 people will be arrested and up to 10,000 killed as the Quit India movement is crushed. Kasturba Gandhi and Mahadev Desai will die in prison. Millions will perish of hunger. India is an occupied and hostile country, says a British general. Virtually no one—not the rulers looting the country’s wealth, nor the people crushed under their weight and induced to fight one another instead of their exploiters— can imagine, in this darkest of dark times, that in a few years the land will be free.

15 August, 2022. Anand Teltumbde, Hany Babu, GN Saibaba, Gautam Navlakha, Arun Ferreira, Shoma Sen, Surendra Gadling, Rona Wilson, Mahesh Raut, Vernon Gonsalves, Khalid Saifi, Meeran Haider, Sharjeel Imam, Umar Khalid, Aasif Sultan, Siddique Kappan, Sanjiv Bhatt, Teesta Setalvad and countless other freedom fighters are in prison. So are thousands of Muslims, for being Muslim, Dalits, for being Dalit, and Adivasis, for living on mineral-rich land that billionaires covet. Stan Swamy is dead. Gauri Lankesh, Narendra Dabholkar, Govind Pansare, MM Kalburgi and far too many other truth tellers—rural reporters, Right-to-Information activists—are also dead. Murdered. And innumerable people whose crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Three-quarters of Indians are malnourished and being induced in their desperation to turn upon one another instead of their exploiters. Just one of their rulers is the world’s fourth-richest man.

India is once again an occupied and starving country. It’s hard to imagine, in this darkest of dark times, that the country will soon be free. But history repeats. And great evil always falls to great courage.

Madhusree Mukerjee is the author of Churchill’s Secret War and The Land of Naked People. She is a Guggenheim awardee and serves as a senior editor at Scientific America

M V RAMANA

In his famed 1947 poem Subh-e-Azadi (Freedom’s Dawn), Faiz Ahmed Faiz had bemoaned the fact that the end of British colonialism had turned out not to be “that clear dawn in quest of which those comrades set out” (translation by Victor Kiernan). Those were the terrible days of partition, with millions of people being displaced from the homes they had grown up at, perhaps over a million killed, and thousands of women abducted and raped. And yet Faiz was hopeful enough to end that poem with “Let us go on, our goal is not reached yet.”

Seventy-five years after that, it is hard to find such hope in today’s subcontinent. In so many ways, the situation seems more dire. Except for a small set of ultra-rich that have made out like bandits, few are optimistic about the future. But that is not all. The greater threat is the growing power of the religious right, and the goals they strive for will eventually destroy even the very possibility of shared existence.

M.V. Ramana is the Simons Chair in Disarmament, Global and Human Security at the School of Public Policy and Global Affairs, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada, and the author of The Power of Promise: Examining Nuclear Energy in India (2012) and co-editor of Prisoners of the Nuclear Dream (2003).

P SAINATH

Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s lockdown speech of March 24, 2020 gave a nation of 1.4 billion people four hours to shut itself down. It would devastate hundreds of millions of livelihoods within days. Minutes after Modi’s speech, his government listed the essential services that would remain operational through the lockdown.

Refreshingly, that included ‘print and electronic media, telecommunications, internet services, broadcasting and cable services.’

In the next few months, major media houses, mostly corporate-owned or controlled, sacked between 2,000 and 2,500 journalists. They achieved much of this by extracting ‘voluntary resignations and retirements.’ The classification of media as an essential service did not save a single job. Or life. Covid-19 killed at least 700 journalists in the first 20 months of the pandemic.

All these numbers are gross underestimates. The sackings, especially. I was a member of the Press Council of India sub-committee to investigate the retrenchments; our letters seeking information from major media houses were met with anger and aggressive lawyers’ replies.

The country’s biggest newspaper group told us that the Press Council had no right to question the sackings. They were recruitment and labor issues and had nothing to do with press freedom (the Council’s purview). The government stayed silent on the sackings.

The media’s failure to cover the exodus of millions of migrant laborers from cities back to their villages was not unrelated to the Great Downsizing. These same segments of the media, too, have said barely a word in their editorials on the arrests, detentions, denial of bail, and the hundreds of cases against media persons—some under sections of laws not applied to journalists in over 100 years. The ‘mainstream’ media’s silence on the assault on democracy that India has seen for years now is not just about cowardice—though there’s dollops of that—but also about complicity and collaboration, coaxing and coercion.

Sure, there are rare exceptions—like the Dainik Bhaskar group that held out bravely despite the income tax and other raids on it. Mostly, though, truly courageous resistance has come from smaller, non-corporate media whose journalists and editors suffer severe harassment, tax raids, arrests, jailing. That have seen donors and sponsors pull their funds in fear. That are unsure of paying their staff salaries in the current financial year.

The new trend: arresting journalists and editors for ‘economic offenses’—‘money laundering’ being the official favorite. That vilifies journalists, hurting their credibility and making it hard for them to be viewed as political prisoners.

It’s worth knowing that four major public intellectuals assassinated in the past decade—Narendra Dabholkar, Govind Pansare, M.M. Kalburgi and Gauri Lankesh—had this in common: they were journalists, columnists or India at 75 107 writers who wrote in Indian languages. Also, rationalists who challenged religious fundamentalism.

Meanwhile, the super-rich, heading India’s biggest corporate houses, are rapidly acquiring more media properties. (With 166 of them, India ranks 3rd among nations in dollar billionaires. But ranks 131 in the UN Human Development Index). Owners whose billions flow from government contracts and huge public resources privatized for their benefit, and who contribute fantastic sums to the ruling party.

What did bother the government was the Paris-based Reporters Sans Frontières’ ranking India 142 (among 180 nations) in the World Press Freedom Index, 2020. (This year’s rank – 150). And Twitter’s latest transparency report confirms India made more ‘legal’ demands than any other nation to remove content posted by verified journalists and news outlets during July-December 2021. We’ve also seen what amounts to months of internet shutdowns across entire regions like Kashmir.

Indian journalists can always be shown the error of their ways. The worst you can do with non-Indians is to deny them visas. Yet, they acted swiftly to rebut the RSF report and index ranking.

In May 2020, the government set up an ‘Index Monitoring Cell’ (IMC) on the directive of the Union Cabinet Secretary, perhaps the country’s most powerful bureaucrat. One who reports directly to the two most important men in India—the Prime Minister and Home Minister. I was one of the IMC’s two original journalist members.

In December 2020, a subgroup presented the committee with a draft report striking for the absence of the word ‘draft’ on its cover. It failed to reflect the content of our discussions. And it made outrageous claims, some of which seemed to mock the sufferings of journalists in Kashmir.

I wrote a note of dissent which, among other things, listed 100 instances of arrests of, legal notices to, and FIRs and cases filed against, journalists in the span of just some months. Such as the October 2020 arrest of Siddique Kappan, a freelancer from Kerala who had gone to Uttar Pradesh to cover the Hathras rape and murder atrocity against Dalits. He was not allowed to meet a lawyer for weeks and remains in jail 22 months later.

Or Zubair Ahmed, a journalist in the Andamans booked on multiple charges for this tweet: ‘Can someone explain why families are placed under home quarantine for speaking over phone with Covid patients?’ Ahmed died by suicide this July, supposedly in depression—but an investigation is still on.

Immediately after that note of dissent went in—the committee simply vanished and has never been heard of since. Right to Information queries have failed to elicit any reasons for this. My friends find me ungrateful. ‘At least,’ they say, ‘it was the committee report that disappeared, not the journalist.’

And so you have the Indian media @75.

For three of my four decades as a journalist, I argued that the Indian media are politically free but imprisoned by P SAINATH India at 75 108 profit. Today I’d say they are still shackled by profit, but are increasingly politically imprisoned as well

P Sainath is the founder-editor of the People’s Archive of Rural India and author of Everybody Loves A Good Drought. His new book, The Last Heroes: Footsoldiers of Indian Freedom, will be out later this year. Sainath has won more than 60 national and international awards and fellowships for his reporting

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Whose FREEDOM@75?

75th Anniversary: What Do Indians Want?

Reflections on 75th anniversary of India’s Independence

Women’s dissent: India’s feminist legacy

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