Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP), along with women’s rights groups, constitutional lawyers, and minority rights organisations, has repeatedly cautioned that such laws—already operational in several BJP-ruled states—have functioned less as safeguards against coercion and more as tools for communal profiling, moral policing, and the criminalisation of adult consensual relationships. Maharashtra is now being pushed to replicate a model that is not only deeply abusive in practice but also under active constitutional challenge before the Supreme Court of India.

It is essential to note that previously, the Maharashtra Government had issued a Government resolution on December 13, 2022, following the gruesome murder of Shraddha Walkar in Delhi allegedly by her inter-faith live-in partner, forming a committee to provide a platform to ‘counsel, communicate and resolve’ issues between couples and families. According to the GR, the committee can seek information of both registered and unregistered marriages. Furthermore, the committee can intervene at the behest of any person, which the plea alleges is a breach of the couple’s privacy “especially when two consenting adults are married to each other”. A challenge against the same, filed by CJP, remains pending in the Bombay High Court. Details of the petition may be read here.

A state-wide, synchronized campaign- Event by event

The scale and coordination of the recent mobilisations are striking. On November 27, in Jalgaon, the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti organised an ‘Anti–Love Jihad’ protest where speakers openly demanded that the Maharashtra Chief Minister ensure the passage of an anti-conversion law in the upcoming winter session of the Assembly. The demand was framed as a matter of urgency and inevitability. Organisers claimed support from over 35 organisations, cited more than 300 citizen statements, and referenced a petition purportedly carrying 15,000 signatures—figures repeatedly invoked to manufacture the impression of overwhelming public consensus.

As the Assembly session approached, the campaign intensified. On December 5, in Amravati, far-right organisations led by the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti submitted a memorandum to the District Collector, addressed to the Chief Minister and Deputy Chief Minister, demanding a ‘strict’ law against the alleged conspiracy of ‘love jihad’. A signature campaign claiming the support of over 3,000 citizens accompanied the submission, making explicit that the objective was legislative pressure during the session rather than redressal of any specific grievance.

On December 7, protests were held across multiple districts. In Dapoli, Ratnagiri, far-right groups once again alleged a systematic conspiracy of ‘love jihad’ and demanded immediate legislative action. The framing was uniform: inter-faith relationships were projected as demographic warfare, and state inaction was portrayed as civilisational betrayal.

The same day, in Akola, the campaign descended into overt communal abuse. At an anti–‘love jihad’ protest, a Hindu Janajagruti Samiti member used derogatory slurs against Muslims—calling them “cowards who used to be Hindus” and “jalli-topiwallas”—and invoked the trope of ‘gaddar Hindus’. Such speech is not incidental; it reveals the communal animus that animates the demand for criminal legislation and signals how such laws are likely to be enforced on the ground.

Also on December 7, in Kothrud, Pune, at a Vishwa Hindu Parishad–Bajrang Dal ‘Shaurya Diwas’ event, speakers claimed that only organisations like the Bajrang Dal could stop ‘love jihad’, religious conversions, and cow slaughter. This assertion effectively erased the boundary between state authority and vigilante power, suggesting that the proposed law is intended to legitimise extra-legal social control.

On December 8, the campaign expanded simultaneously into administrative offices and mainstream political platforms. In Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar, delegations led by the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti, alongside BJP leader Kamlesh Katariya, submitted requests at District Magistrate offices across Maharashtra, uniformly urging enactment of a ‘strict’ anti–love jihad law.

The same day, at Hotel Center Point, Nagpur, during a ‘Majha Maharashtra’ event organised by Anand Bazaar Patrika, BJP MLA Nitesh Rane amplified these conspiracies from a mainstream political stage. He invoked ‘love jihad’, ‘land jihad’, and ‘halal jihad’, and further referenced ‘ghazwa-e-Hind’, explicitly linking these ideas to terrorism. Such rhetoric performs a crucial legitimising function: it converts fringe paranoia into a perceived security threat, thereby manufacturing public consent for exceptional criminal law.

Core Criticisms of Anti-Conversion Laws: Why civil liberties groups oppose them

CJP and other civil liberties organisations, women’s rights groups, and constitutional scholars have consistently raised serious objections to anti-conversion laws across states—objections that apply with equal, if not greater, force to the proposed Maharashtra legislation.

1. Criminalisation of consent and autonomy: These laws operate on the presumption that adult women—particularly Hindu women—are incapable of making informed choices about relationships and faith. By treating consent as inherently suspect, the laws directly contradict Supreme Court jurisprudence recognising decisional autonomy, bodily integrity, and the right to choose one’s partner.
2. Vague and overbroad offences: Terms such as ‘allurement’, ‘undue influence’, and ‘fraud’ are undefined or expansively defined, allowing ordinary acts—companionship, emotional support, marriage, or assistance—to be reinterpreted as criminal inducement. This violates the principle that criminal offences must be narrowly and clearly defined.
3. Burden-shifting and presumption of guilt: Many anti-conversion laws invert the foundational criminal law principle of presumption of innocence by shifting the burden onto the accused to prove that no coercion occurred. This is constitutionally suspect and procedurally unjust.
4. Third-party complaints and vigilante policing: By allowing relatives—or even unrelated persons—to file complaints, these laws institutionalise vigilante interference in intimate relationships. In practice, police action is often triggered not by the alleged convert but by ideological organisations or hostile family members.
5. Discriminatory enforcement: Empirical evidence from other states demonstrates that enforcement disproportionately targets Muslim men and inter-faith couples, entrenching communal profiling and selective policing.
6. Chilling Effect on Religious Freedom: Mandatory prior notice requirements and intrusive inquiries deter individuals from exercising their freedom of conscience, effectively converting a fundamental right into a regulated privilege.

CJP has repeatedly warned that these laws do not prevent coercion; they prevent choice.

Pending Petitions Before the Supreme Court: Laws under constitutional cloud

Importantly, CJP’s challenge to anti-conversion laws in several states—including Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Uttarakhand, and Gujarat—is currently pending before the Supreme Court of India. Multiple petitions contend that these statutes violate core constitutional guarantees under Articles 14, 15, 19, 21, and 25.

Detailed report may be read here.

Petitioners have argued that the laws:

• Undermine the right to privacy and decisional autonomy recognised in K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India
• Criminalise adult consensual relationships, contrary to Shafin Jahan v. Asokan K.M. and Lata Singh v. State of UP
• Treat women as lacking agency, in violation of equality and dignity
• Enable arbitrary, discriminatory, and communalised policing
• Invert the presumption of innocence by shifting the burden of proof

The Supreme Court has been urged to examine whether the state can subject personal faith, marriage, and belief to prior scrutiny and criminal sanction in the absence of demonstrable harm. These challenges remain pending, rendering the legal framework that Maharashtra is being urged to adopt constitutionally unstable.

Manufacturing panic, normalising surveillance, reshaping criminal law

The Maharashtra campaign exemplifies a broader shift in law making: from evidence-based policy to ideology-driven criminalisation. There is no credible data demonstrating widespread forced conversions through marriage in Maharashtra. Existing criminal law already addresses coercion, cheating, kidnapping, trafficking, and sexual exploitation. The demand for a new law is therefore not remedial but symbolic—designed to signal dominance, discipline intimacy, and legitimise social surveillance.

By framing adult women as perpetual victims, these campaigns rein scribe patriarchal control. By singling out Muslims as conspirators, they normalise collective suspicion. By demanding preventive criminalisation, they erode the basic premise that criminal law punishes acts, not identities or intentions.

What is at stake for Maharashtra

If enacted, an anti-conversion law in Maharashtra will not remain a neutral legal instrument. It will embolden vigilante groups, legitimise moral policing, and place police machinery at the service of ideological enforcement. For inter-faith couples, religious minorities, and women asserting autonomy, the consequences are likely to be immediate and severe: arrests, harassment, prolonged incarceration, and social ostracisation.

As CJP has consistently argued, the real question is not whether forced conversions should be prevented—existing law already does so—but whether the state can be permitted to criminalise choice itself. Maharashtra today stands at a constitutional crossroads: between safeguarding liberty and importing a legal regime already notorious for abuse and under active constitutional scrutiny. The street pressure is loud. The constitutional warning signs are louder still.

Related:

Gujarat High Court Widened Anti-Conversion Law: ‘Victims’ can be prosecuted as offenders

K’taka HC: Ruling on state’s ‘anti-conversion’ law, lays down precedent against potential weaponisation by third-party vigilantes

Supreme Court seeks states’ replies on pleas for stay of anti-conversion laws, to decide on interim stay after six weeks

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

The post Street Pressure, State Power, and the Criminalisation of Choice: How Hindutva groups are pushing Maharashtra’s anti-conversion law appeared first on SabrangIndia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Samreen Pathan: Holding on Through Loneliness

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

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

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

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

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

What to serve for dinner to men returning from work?

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

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

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

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

From Social Othering to Social Suffering

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

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

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

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

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

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

Related:

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

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

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

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

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

Violence, vandalism and arson in Kolhapur, Muslim houses and mosque targeted by mob that had gathered on the call of former RS MP Sambhaji Raje Chhatrapati

CJP flags 8 incidents of hate crime including lynchings to National Commission for Minorities

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

According to the minister, between 2022-23 and 2024-25, Pune, Mumbai, Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar, Nagpur, Amravati, Akola and Yavatmal districts collectively reported 14,526 child deaths. This high figure includes infants and children under five admitted to government facilities, as well as cases of severe malnutrition. The minister also said that 138 infant deaths have been recorded in the tribal-dominated Palghar district. Palghar has always been high on hunger, deprivation and infant mortality figures.

Speaking in the assembly in response to a question and citing from the state health department’s data as of November 2025, Abitkar said 203 children were identified as suffering from Severe Acute Malnutrition (SAM) and 2,666 from Moderate Acute Malnutrition. The proportion of underweight children was recorded at 0.23 per cent, while 1.48 per cent fell in the moderately underweight category.

The minister also referred to the Sample Registration System 2022, released by the Registrar General of India, which estimated Maharashtra’s neonatal mortality rate at 11 per 1,000 live births, lower than the national average of 23. In defence, Abitkar said the state government has adopted multiple measures under the Integrated Child Development Services programme to reduce malnutrition. These include regular health examinations, the Dr A P J Abdul Kalam Amrut Aahar Yojana for pregnant women, targeted interventions for SAM children, the Nutrition Campaign, the Pradhan Mantri Matru Vandana Yojana and the ‘Suposhit Maharashtra’ initiative.

(This is based on a report by PTI)

Related:

India ranks first in child deaths under 5 years of age: UNICEF report

5% rise in infant and child deaths in Mumbai

BRD hospital records 433 child deaths in a month. Should Kerala still follow UP?

The post Maharashtra: Seven districts saw 14,526 child deaths in three years says Govt appeared first on SabrangIndia.

On September 3, 2025 the Maharashtra Cabinet approved a series of labour law amendments to increase the length of the working day, working hours without rest intervals, working hours per week, and limit of the overtime period. These amendments are based on recommendations of a central task force on labour reforms in order to “attract investment, expand industries, and create more employment opportunities.” The Maharashtra decision aligns with states such as Karnataka, Telangana, Uttar Pradesh, and Tripura – which have already enacted similar “reforms.”

The PUCL statement states that it must not be forgotten that the State is the biggest employer both in industries and establishments and is therefore required to ensure that workers are not exploited and their fundamental rights to a decent, safe and healthy work environment are protected. Yet it fails to do precisely that.

The State Government has made many lofty claims in support of these “reforms,” that are presumably in the interests of both labour as well as capital. The amendments will facilitate “protection of labour rights” while “improving the ease of doing business.” They will help “attract investment” as well as “increase employment opportunities in the state.”¹ But it is obvious that extending working hours, and removing smaller establishments from the purview of the law is meant to reduce or remove protections for workers, not to expand them, says the PUCL.

Today, even in the industrial sector in India, contractual workers are already working 12-hour shifts (without overtime). In effect, the amendments aim to legalise what is already happening in fact – depriving workers of the legal safeguards against super-exploitation. They seem to be a way of coercing a shrinking permanent workforce into this inhuman work regime. Besides, far from increasing employment, as is claimed, this step will reduce the organised work force to two thirds of its size by replacing 8-hour shifts with 12-hour ones. It is no surprise that the Karnataka State IT/ITeS

1 See the post by the Chief Minster of Maharashtra on the social media platform X:

मंत्रिमंडळ निर्णय : कामगार विभाग@Dev_Fadnavis#Maharashtra #मंत्रिमंडळनिर्णय #CabinetDecision #DevendraFadnavis pic.twitter.com/oTZrwmsHOp

— CMO Maharashtra (@CMOMaharashtra) September 3, 2025

Employees Union (KITU) labelled similar amendments proposed in Karnataka as “inhuman attempt to impose modern-day slavery” upon them.²

In line with the state cabinet’s decision, the proposed amendments will be carried out in the Factories Act of 1948 and the Maharashtra Shops and Establishments (Regulation of Employment and Conditions of Service) Act, 2017. In the Factories Act, the amendments proposed are: (a) Under Section 65, the workday shall be extended from the present 9 hours up to 12 hours; (b) Under Section 55, the rest period which was half an hour after the first five hours shall be made half an hour after six hours; (c) Under Section 56, the maximum number of working hours (spread over) in a day from 10.5 hours to 12 hours; (d) Under Section 65, the maximum number of hours of overtime in a quarter shall be increased from the present 115 to 144 hours (the original limit had been laid down as 75 hours). Under the Shops and Establishments Act the government intends to (a) increase working hours from 9 to 10 hours; (b) exclude establishments having less than 20 workers (the current number of 85 lakh establishments covered by this Act will be reduced to about 56,000).

While the State Labour Secretary has claimed that overtime work will be paid at double the rate of basic wages and allowances for every such increase in working hours, and that such overtime shall be subject to worker’s consent, these assurances have to be tested upon the actual language of the proposed amendments, particularly the fine print. While the decisions have yet to take the shape of a bill/ordinance for amending the Factories Act in the state, it is very likely that the amending bill/ordinance shall be on the lines of similar amendments made in Rajasthan and Gujarat.

In the Gujarat Ordinance No. 2 of 2025, issued on July 1, 2025, for instance, at Section 6, it is stated that Section 59(1) of the Factories Act shall be substituted by:

“Where a worker works in any factory:-

• for more than nine hours in any day or for more than forty-eight hours in any week, working for six days in any week;
• for more than ten hours in any day or for more than forty eight hours in any week, working for five days in any week;
• for more than eleven and a half hours in any day working for four days in any week, or works on paid holidays; he shall in respect of overtime work be entitled to wages at the rate of twice his ordinary rate of wages.”

In effect this means that overtime will not be calculated on a daily basis, but on a weekly basis, and a worker may work for eleven and a half hours each day for four days in a week without being eligible for overtime. This amounts to squeezing out the maximum from workers, and if they do not consent to overtime, subjecting them to artificial breaks in service jeopardising their permanent status.

The Rajasthan Bill contains another dangerous clause, namely 6(v):

“A worker may be required to work for overtime subject to the consent of such worker for such work except worker required to work for safety activities.”

 2 See the statement “12-hour work day in Karnataka’s IT Sector; Modern-Day Slavery in the Making: KITU Urges Employees to Unite and Resist” by the Karnataka State IT/ITeS Employees Union
https://kituhq.org/recent/6836e0f7e83575020247d3d1

Thus, a maintenance worker may be forced to work overtime all the year round. Given the current situation in the country of a large informal sector, underemployment, low wages, and unpaid work – workers will give “consent” out of fear or desperation, not choice. The provision of “consent” will be little more than legal subterfuge to conceal a new form of servitude.

It is a serious concern that while average working hours in wealthy countries have reduced by roughly half over the last 150 years – moving from over 50 hours per week to around 25-35 hours per week in recent times – India is reverting to colonial era standards by increasing working hours. In France, for instance, the standard full-time work week is 35 hours, with a daily cap of 10 hours; hours beyond the 35 hour threshold are considered overtime.

Finally, the PUCL statement states that the working class all over the world has fought a long battle to establish its right to an 8- hour working day so that workers may also have 8 hours of rest and 8 hours of personal time in which to achieve their full potential as citizens and as human beings. It must be recalled that the International Workers Day originates from the demand for an eight hour working day. Labour Day commemorates the sacrifice of union organisers – who were framed after the Haymarket protest on false charges of causing a riot – during a strike and demonstrations of Chicago workers in 1886. It has origins in the American Federation of Labour’s call: “eight hours shall constitute a legal day’s labour from and after May 1st, 1886”. After the International Labour Organisation (ILO) was founded in 1919, the first instrument ratified by it was the one regulating working hours. The second article limited working hours to 8 hours per day and 48 hours per week. India was one of the first signatories of the ILO’s “Hours of Work Convention” in 1921. India has itself witnessed valiant struggles of textile workers in the year 1911 to reduce working hours which finally under the pen of Dr B.R. Ambedkar were enshrined in the Factories Act, 1948 in the form of the 8-hour work day. The government’s decision in effect seeks to extinguish in one stroke the rights that working people have won with great sacrifice and struggle over more than a century.

It is widely acknowledged that long hours of work does not increase worker productivity, on the contrary, they drastically increase incidents of workplace accidents. Such long hours of work can only lead to sweat labour and hazardous work conditions. It will adversely impact health of workers by increasing exhaustion and stress, and increase their exposure to occupation-linked diseases and medical conditions. It is equally well known that workers in establishments with 12- hour shifts are rarely able to unionise. Longer working hours are discriminatory towards women workers because women bear a significant burden of care work in their homes. If the government was serious about increasing productivity, employment opportunities and welfare of workers, they would introduce progressive amendments to reduce working hours without any reduction in wages.

The PUCL Maharashtra has therefore demanded that the full texts of the proposed amendments be made available in the public domain in both in Marathi and English, and in all offices of the Labour Department so that trade unions and organisations can scrutinise the fine print of these so- called “reforms.” We demand that this decision to amend the Factories Act and the Shop and Establishments Act along the lines of other state governments be immediately revoked. Any proposed labour reforms in the state must only be considered after a series of consultations with trade unions and workers’ organisations, after which they ought to be opened to the broader public for suggestions and objections.

The PUCL, has also stated that the organization, in alliance with trade unions and informal sector workers organisations will campaign against the extension of work hours. It will also lobby with the Standing Committee in the Legislative Assembly and with opposition party MLAs to not accept these changes, and if required challenge these amendments in the courts. The statement was issued by Shiraz Bulsara Prabhu, President of PUCL, Maharashtra and   Sandhya Gokhale, General Secretary.

Related:

Beyond the Clock: Deconstructing Telangana’s Labour Law Reform and the Flawed Pursuit of Investment

ILO raises deep concern over recent trend of labour law reforms, asks PM to engage with states

New Trade Union Initiative (NTUI) demands that governments retract changes in labour laws

Battle against dilution of labour laws to culminate in Supreme Court? 

The post Labour rights, health of workers hit in the name of “reform”: PUCL Maharashtra appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Ever since the introduction and passage of the controversial law, a unique alliance of people’s organisations and opposition political parties have come together, on four separate occasions to protest this law that spells doom for free expression, the right to protest and dissent. In April 2025 and then again in July 2025, there have been protests around this legislation.

Pune: Call to resist “state repression”

In Pune, under the leadership of Supriya Sule (MP), National Working President of the NCP (Sharad Pawar faction), a mass gathering was organized at the Babasaheb Ambedkar Memorial near Pune Station. City NCP president Prashant Jagtap called on citizens to resist the law, warning that it empowers the state to directly imprison dissenters and silence public opposition.

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Mumbai: Opposition Action Committee leads joint protest

In Mumbai, the Janasuraksha Bill Opposition Action Committee led a protest at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Maidan, Dadar, from 4–8 pm. The meeting was chaired by Com. Prakash Reddy (CPI) and attended by leaders across the political spectrum:

• Congress – Dhananjay Shinde
• NCP (Sharad Pawar faction) – Rupesh Khandke
• CPI(M) – Com. Shailendra Kamble
• CPI – Com. S.K. Rege, Amir Kazi, Com. Nana Parab
• Peasants and Workers Party – Com. Rajendra Korde
• Hum Bharat Ke Log – Feroze Mithiborwala
• CPI(ML) – Com. Vijay Kulkarni
• APCR – Shakir Shaikh, Adv. Inamdar
• Autonomous women’s organisations and civil liberty activists from Forum against Oppression of Women among others.

A message of solidarity was also sent by MLA Sachin Ahir (Shiv Sena–UBT). Multiple people’s organisations pledged participation.

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Loh and Rural Maharashtra: Constitution and democracy defended

In Loh, a demonstration began with floral tributes at the statue of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, followed by slogans:

• “Long Live the Constitution”
• “Repeal the Anti-People Public Security Act”
• “Down with the Fadnavis-Shinde-Ajit Pawar Government”

Leaders including Com. Rameshwar Pawal (CPI-M), Milind Sawant (Congress), Rameshwar Bahirat (Shiv Sena–UBT), and Bhai U.R. Thombal (Shetkari Kamgar Paksha) condemned the Act as an assault on democratic rights. Protesters reminded that 10 lakh signatures and over 1.24 lakh written objections were submitted to the Governor, but the government still “bulldozed” the Bill through the Assembly.

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Other District Actions

• Kolhapur: Maha Vikas Aghadi held a sit-in at the Collector’s office, led by Congress’s Harshvardhan Sapkal and district leaders; a memorandum was submitted.

महाराष्ट्र प्रदेश काँग्रेस कमिटीच्या आदेशानुसार व प्रदेशाध्यक्ष हर्षवर्धन सपकाळ साहेबांच्या नेतृत्वात महाराष्ट्र जनसुरक्षा विधेयका विरोधात राज्यव्यापी आंदोलन करण्यात आले.
कोल्हापूर जिल्हा काँग्रेस कमिटी व महाविकास आघाडीच्या वतीने जिल्हाधिकारी कार्यालय,कोल्हापूर येथे ठिय्या आंदोलन… pic.twitter.com/q2wPjfi8cL

— Maharashtra Congress (@INCMaharashtra) September 10, 2025

• Solapur: Protesters burnt an effigy of the Act in a symbolic rejection.

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• Manchar: A large gathering under MVA banner denounced the Act.

• Palghar district: Demonstrations were staged at Dahanu, Palghar, Vasai, Wada, Vikramgad, Jawhar, and Mokhada.

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• Beed, Shevgaon (Ahmednagar), Hingoli, Dhule, Gadchiroli, Gondia: District-level agitations with party workers and civil society activists submitting memoranda.

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Opposition’s Stand

Across locations, including Shahada, Nandurbar, Shambhajinagar and Satara, western Maharashtra, speakers reiterated that the MSPS Act violates Articles 14, 19, and 21 of the Constitution, criminalises dissent, and grants unchecked powers to the state. They demanded its immediate repeal, warning that Maharashtra risks becoming a “police state.”

Slogan on everyone’s lips was: Not Public Security, but Public Oppression Bill!”

Related:

Azad Maidan erupts in protest as Maharashtra set to enact sweeping law aimed at silencing dissent

From Sindhudurg to Mumbai, Maharashtra erupts in protest against repressive public safety bill

Maharashtra Rises in Protest: State-wide agitation against draconian Maharashtra Public Safety Bill on April 22

The post Protests across Maharashtra denounce the Public Security Act as unconstitutional and anti-democratic appeared first on SabrangIndia.

For instance, the matter of 39-year-old Sushama Gupta having six entries in the electoral rolls was posted on X by Alt News journalist Abhishek Kumar. A cross-verification exercise was conducted by the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative (CHRI) and has been made public by Venkatesh Nayak, its director. Sushama Gupta, a 39-year-old resident of the Nalasopara assembly constituency in Maharashtra’s Palghar district, appeared to figure six times in the electoral roll, with each entry carrying a different EPIC number as pointed out on X on Tuesday (August 12).

Thereafter, Pratik Sinha founder of Alt News, put out this tweet that educated thousands on how to convert ECI’s unreadable electoral rolls to a readable software.

Soon, the Common Wealth Human Rights Initiative (CHRI) undertook its own cross verification exercise between 5 to 6:30 pm on August 12, 2025 using the publicly accessible voter list database and the Search in Electoral Roll facility created by the Election Commission of India (ECI).

How did they go about probing?

The aforementioned media report states that the name of one individual Ms. Sushma Gupta figures five times on the electoral rolls of Nilemore locality and once again in the voter list of Tulinj locality of the same Vidhan Sabha constituency. So the CHRI decided to cross check this claim on two fronts:

1) Using the image of the voter list displayed in the media story, CHRI activists keyed in the EPIC numbers mentioned against Ms. Sushma Gupta to see if the ECI’s Voter List Portal throws up any data; and

2) They then downloaded the entire voter list of the Nilemore locality from the same portal to check whether the claim about multiple mentions is true. This voter list downloaded from the ECI’s Portal states that it was last updated on 29/10/2024. Perhaps this list was prepared after the summary revision of the electoral rolls ahead of the Vidhan Sabha elections in Maharashtra on 20th November, 2024.

Caveat: The image displayed in the media report mentioned above contains photographs of voters also. So probably this image might be of the voter lists provided to the polling agent(s) for use on the day of polling. The CHRI was unable to ascertain whether this list with photographs was used during the Lok Sabha polls or the later Vidhan Sabha polls held in Maharashtra in 2024 because the voter list the activists have downloaded from the ECI’s portal does not contain any photographs as per ECI’s policy to protect the privacy of voters.

Findings:

1) The name of Ms. Sushama Gupta (not Sushma Gupta as mentioned in the above media story) occurs multiple times in the attached voter list of 286- Nilemore Polling Station which is located at St. Mary’s High School, Ground Floor, North side, Room No. 9, Nilemore (the complete voter list has also been provided by the organisation;

2) The name of Ms. Sushama Gupta occurs five times (5) on page no. 26 and once on page 44 of the voter list. Out of the five occurrences on page no. 26 only one of them carries the “DELETED” watermark across the entry as of today. This is the entry connected with the 390-Tulinj locality displayed in the image published in the aforementioned media story. All six entries carry different EPIC numbers and all five entries for Nilemore locality are shown as live;

3) In five of these six entries, Ms. Sushama Gupta is shown as a female aged 39 years, whose husband is one Sanjay Gupta, with House No. displayed as Mata Jivdani Chowl;

4) In one of the five live entries, the individual’s name is shown only as “gupta Gupta” (EPIC: WEH8746877) but with the same age, husband’s name and House No. This is intriguing as to how the surname and the first name were allowed to be identical;

5) The image of the voter list with photographs displayed in the aforementioned media report does not match with the voter list downloaded from ECI’s portal in one respect. The serial nos. do not match. In the image displayed in the media report, the serial nos. shown for this individual are: 1316, 1319, 1320, 1321, 1322 and 1323. In the voter list which we downloaded from the ECI’s portal, the serial nos. against which this individual is named are: 712, 715, 716, 717 (DELETED entry), 718 and 1235. This is another intriguing discrepancy. One plausible explanation could be that the image displayed in the aforementioned media report might have been from the voter list used during the Lok Sabha elections held earlier in April-May 2024;

6) When CHRI activists searched the ECI’s database using the “Search in Electoral Roll” facility applying all six EPIC numbers, they found the same name popping up six times today, with the same personal details as mentioned above (the screenshots of the search results are in the 2nd attachment below). The entry shown as DELETED on the Voter list did not contain a similar remark on this database;

7) Last but not the least, when they clicked the “View Details” link given against each entry we found that the same District Election Officer (Mr. Govind Bobde), the same Electoral Registration Officer (Mr. Shekhar Ghadge) and the same Booth Level Officer (Ms. Pallavi Sawant) are named against all these entries (in the 2nd attachment the search result page for each entry is followed by a screenshot of the Voter Details Page). The mobile phone nos. of the ERO and the BLO are also given. It is intriguing that none of these officers discovered the multiple entries at the time of finalising the voter list for two rounds of elections, namely the Lok Sabha and the Vidhan Sabha elections.

This is but one claim of discrepancy being reported by the media which the CHRI has been able to cross check given the very limited human resources available at our disposal. It is hoped that other electoral reforms advocates will cross check other claims about voter list discrepancies and publish their results.

Clearly, the ERO, DEO, the Chief Electoral Officer, Maharashtra and the ECI have much to account for to the citizenry.

Related:

Vote for Democracy: Statistical, legal and procedural irregularities dot Bihar’s controversial SIR process

Bihar SIR: 65 Lakh electors flagged for deletion, SC said “if there is mass exclusion, we will immediately step in”

ECI to SC: Voter ID insufficient for Bihar roll, defends citizenship verification power

Punjab University’s former dean writes to CJI: Bihar SIR threatens democracy, alleges ECI overreach & voter disenfranchisement

Non-Electors Within Electors: ECI reports over 61 lakh potential exclusions

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• In Thane, Parbhani, and Kolhapur, opposition parties, including the Maharashtra Congress, and civil rights groups are rallying against the newly passed Maharashtra Public Safety Act (MSPS)—a sweeping law that criminalises democratic dissent.

जनसुरक्षा कायद्याला कडाडून विरोध करण्यासाठी कोल्हापूर जिल्हाध्यक्ष श्री.सतेजजी पाटील यांच्या उपस्थितीत आज कोल्हापूर जिल्हा व शहर काँग्रेसच्या वतीने काँग्रेसच्या कार्यालयाबाहेर जनसुरक्षा कायद्याची होळी करून संविधानिक मार्गाने काम करणाऱ्या विरोधी पक्ष संघटना, शिव- शाहू- फुले-… pic.twitter.com/Z8hz5JEODR

— Maharashtra Congress (@INCMaharashtra) July 21, 2025

परभणी जिल्हा व शहर काँग्रेसच्यावतीने परभणीतील डॉ. बाबासाहेब आंबेडकर यांच्या पुतळ्याजवळ जनसुरक्षा कायद्याला कडाडून विरोध करण्यासाठी संविधानिक मार्गाने काम करणाऱ्या विरोधी पक्ष संघटना, शिव- शाहू- फुले- आंबेडकरवादी संघटना, पुरोगामी, शेतकरी कामगार संघटना यांना संपवणाऱ्या आणि… pic.twitter.com/AG6GSGSzjT

— Maharashtra Congress (@INCMaharashtra) July 21, 2025

• In Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar and Nanded, members of the Qureshi Muslim community have initiated a state-wide boycott of the cattle trade in protest against a decade of mob lynching, police harassment, and what they call a campaign of “economic strangulation.”
• And on the shores of Sassoon Dock in Mumbai, the Koli fishing community is resisting sudden evictions despite years of assurances, demanding protection of their ancestral rights and the right to the sea.

Together, these protests tell a larger story: of how state power, legal instruments, and vigilante violence are reshaping the rights, identities, and futures of working-class and marginalised communities across Maharashtra.

• The Public Safety Act: A law to silence the people

When the Maharashtra Special Public Security (MSPS) Bill, 2024 was passed by the Maharashtra legislature in June 2025, the government claimed it was a necessary measure to combat “urban Naxalism” and protect public order. But opposition parties, constitutional scholars, and over 12,500 citizens who submitted objections to the Joint Select Committee saw the law for what it is: a legal instrument to suppress protest, stifle opposition, and criminalise constitutional expression.

The law allows the state to declare any activity or organisation “unlawful” if it is seen to disturb “public order” or interfere with “established institutions.” But these terms are undefined, vague, and dangerously expansive. Jan Suraksha Vidheyak Virodhi Sangharsh Samiti approached the Governor of Maharashtra on July 16, 2025 and submitted a memorandum against the said Bill.

The memorandum stated that “The Sangharsh Samiti has strongly opposed the Jan Suraksha Bill (Bill No. XXXIII of 2024), as the Bill is a direct assault on the democratic and fundamental rights of the citizens of the State.  We believe that in the name of curbing Naxalism, due to its vague formulation, the Act is likely to be misused against common citizens, social activists and organisations who legitimately raise their voice against unjust government policies and actions.  The stifling of any form of opposition and dissent, is antithetical to the democratic frame of our Constitution. A more detailed note outlining our major objections to the Bill, is attached herewith.”

The additional memorandum submitted to the Governor on July 22, 2025 highlighting that Section 2(f), which defines unlawful activity argued that the state definition is so wide it could criminalise rasta rokos, satyagrahas, pamphleteering, or even social media posts.

The additional memorandum to the Governor provided that “The definition of “unlawful activity” is too broad and all-encompassing.  While the Chief Minister has repeatedly stated that morchas, andolans, and other democratic forms of protest will not be disallowed, the fact is that the definition of “unlawful activity” as defined in Sec 2 (f) of the Act is so broad that morchas, andolans etc. fall squarely within the said definition. It is necessary that the assurances in this regard as given on the floor of the House, must be translated into black and white on paper.”

Under Section 5, the Advisory Board, originally meant to serve as a constitutional check, has also been structurally weakened. Under amendments introduced by the Joint Select Committee, the Board may now include retired district judges and government advocates, compromising its independence.

Opposition erupted state-wide:

• In Parbhani, Congress leaders gathered at the Ambedkar statue to burn copies of the Bill and denounce it as an attack on Ambedkarite and Phule-Shahu ideals.
• In Kolhapur, 2,000 people blocked a police contingent and set fire to symbolic effigies of the law, calling it “black inside and out.”
• In Thane, a major public meeting on July 27 brought together journalist Kumar Ketkar, Rajya Sabha MP Sanjay Raut, former minister Jitendra Awhad, and retired judge Abhay Thipse, all calling for the repeal of the Act.

As reported by The Week, Congress state president Harshvardhan Sapkal, in a widely covered press conference at Gandhi Bhavan, alleged that the law was designed not to curb extremism but to protect industrialists grabbing land in Dharavi, or extracting mineral wealth from Surjagad in Gadchiroli.

“This law is draconian inside and out and is meant to suppress the common people… The only beneficiaries will be the government and the industrialists who support it — the ones who have grabbed land in Dharavi, looted mineral resources in Surjagad (Gadchiroli), and want red-carpet access to the Shaktipeeth highway corridor.”

The Governor is yet to grant assent, and civil society groups continue to demand that the Bill be returned to the Assembly under Article 200 of the Constitution. More such protests are planned in Maharashtra. On July 27, 2025 there is a protest meeting in Thane that will be addressed among others by former judge, Abhay Thipsay.

• The Qureshi Community’s economic boycott against mob violence

On July 1, 2025, a quiet revolution began in Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar. Members of the Qureshi Muslim community, who are traditionally involved in buffalo meat and cattle trade, announced they were ceasing all commercial activity indefinitely.

The reason? A decade of mob lynchings, extortion, and police collusion under the pretext of gau Raksha (cow protection). Haji Aslam Sultan Qureshi, president of the Maharashtra Jamat ul Quresh, spoke with Hindustan Times and stated that “We are legal traders, but gau rakshaks beat us, loot our vehicles, and often kill with impunity. Even when we transport buffaloes, which are legal, they attack us. And the police help them.”

The community cites multiple fatal cases:

• Rafeeq Tamboli, beaten to death in 2021;
• Affan Ansari, killed in 2024;
• Seven deaths in Washim district alone, the report provided, as per local community leader Nabi Qureshi.

Over time, slaughterhouses in many districts have been shut down or denied veterinary certification, making legal slaughter impossible. As per a report of The Wire, in Nanded, there are no functioning taluka-level veterinary officers. As a result, butchers are forced to slaughter in homes, illegal under the law, making them further vulnerable to FIRs and raids. “We are being pushed into illegality by design,” said a butcher from Parbhani, according to The Wire report, “then arrested for surviving.”

On July 15, the HT report provided, a Qureshi delegation met Minister of State for Home Yogesh Kadam and DGP Rashmi Shukla, demanding a written assurance of protection. Kadam refused, offering only oral promises.

Meanwhile, according to the report of The Wire, the government’s official position hardened. On July 14, Minister Pankaj Bhoyar announced:

• A new law to combat beef smuggling;
• Withdrawal of all cases against gau rakshaks;
• Possible invocation of the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act (MCOCA) against cattle transporters.

The report of The Wire provides that activists like Juned Atar have documented how vigilante groups coordinate across districts, sending tip-offs when cattle transport begins and ambushing vehicles with police support. “The state is now weaponising bureaucracy against us,” said Kaizer Patel, AIMIM lawyer, who estimates that ₹300 crore worth of trade has been halted state-wide. “The real victims are the poor—Qureshis, farmers, drivers, meat vendors, and even the hotel industry.”

• Sassoon Dock Standoff and the Fight for Coastal Rights

The third protest front opened in Mumbai—on the land and waters of Sassoon Dock, a historic fishing port that sustains tens of thousands of Koli fisherfolk, warehouse operators, ice vendors, and boatmen.

On July 23, a team from the Mumbai Port Authority (MbPA) arrived with police support to evict godown operators on the basis of a 2014 Supreme Court ruling. The MbPA claims the godown operators are unauthorised sub-lessees and that the original leaseholder is the Maharashtra Fisheries Development Corporation (MFDC).

But, as reported by Hindustan Times, the Koli community sees this eviction as a betrayal of past assurances. In a 2015 ministerial meeting at Vidhan Bhavan, Nitin Gadkari and Eknath Khadse had assured that:

• Ready Reckoner rent rates would not apply, and
• No eviction would be carried out without consultation.

“If MbPA claims otherwise, they should give us that in writing,” said Krishna Pawle, president of Shiv Bharatiya Port Sena, reported Hindustan Times. 

“Today they’re coming for the warehouses. Tomorrow, they’ll come for our boats,” warned Bhaskar Tandel, former chair of the Machimaar Sarvoday Society, while speaking with HT, “We have been here longer than the Port Authority itself.”

The eviction was stalled by a mass protest of over 2,000 people, and Koli leaders have warned that 20,000 will occupy Sassoon Dock if the eviction continues after the seasonal fishing ban ends on August 1.

For the Koli community, this is about more than tenancy. It is about ancestral claims, survival, and identity in a rapidly gentrifying Mumbai.

Conclusion: Criminalisation as policy, resistance as survival

In all three protests, a clear pattern emerges:

• Legal frameworks—whether the MSPS Act, cow protection laws, or tenancy regulations—are being used to delegitimise, displace, or detain.
• Marginalised communities—Muslims, Tribals, Bahujans, and traditional coastal dwellers—are increasingly forced into protest just to survive.
• And when they protest, they are labelled as Naxals, smugglers, or encroachers.

These protests are not merely political reactions. They are defences of constitutional existence, carried out in courtrooms, streets, markets, docks, and under statues of Ambedkar and Shivaji. In Maharashtra today, protest is not dissent. It is self-defence.

Related:

Azad Maidan erupts in protest as Maharashtra set to enact sweeping law aimed at silencing dissent

TN: Sugarcane Farmers Protest, Demand Better FRP, Reintroduction of SAP

From Sindhudurg to Mumbai, Maharashtra erupts in protest against repressive public safety bill

Maharashtra Rises in Protest: State-wide agitation against draconian Maharashtra Public Safety Bill on April 22

The post From villages to docks, Maharashtra rises against a weaponised law, eviction & vigilante violence appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Despite repeated objections from Opposition MLAs and an avalanche of detailed public submissions, the bill has been introduced with only minor linguistic tweaks. The government’s refusal to alter any of the substantive and dangerous provisions has confirmed what many feared: that the Joint Committee process was never meant to revise the bill, rather it was meant to legitimise it.

At the heart of this legislation lies a simple premise: dissent equals danger. Vague terms like “left wing extremist organisation” and “urban Naxal” remain central to the Bill’s design, but are never defined, giving the state unchecked discretion to label student groups, protest movements, civil rights organisations, even opposition-linked collectives, as threats.

The dissent note, backed by detailed legal analysis, concludes that cosmetic changes have been used to mask the retention of core authoritarian powers, including preventive detention, financial surveillance, asset forfeiture, and police immunity.

Key concerns raised by opposition members, civil society, and constitutional experts have been ignored or side-stepped. The Joint Committee has made only three formal amendments to the earlier format of the MSPS bill, which are:

1. Rewording the objective clause to target “radical Left-wing organisations or similar organisations”;
2. Recasting the composition of the Advisory Board;
3. Raising the investigating officer’s rank from Sub-Inspector to Deputy Superintendent of Police.

The final bill still:

• Grants the executive the power to brand organisations as “unlawful” without fair process;
• Criminalises routine dissent under vague definitions of “unlawful activity”;
• Enables property seizure, eviction, and financial ruin through non-judicial mechanisms;
• Excludes lower courts from jurisdiction, effectively cutting off accessible judicial remedies;
• Provides blanket immunity to state officials acting “in good faith”;
• Lays the ground for an ideologically driven crackdown on opposition groups, activists, and movements.

Summary of the amended Bill is as follows:

I. Purpose and Framing: Criminalising dissent as extremism

The revised objective of the bill now targets: “unlawful activities of Left Wing Extremist organisations or similar organisations.”

This change merely replaces generality with ideological bias, introducing undefined political terms into law. Phrases such as “Left Wing Extremist” or “similar organisations” remain legally ambiguous and dangerously elastic, allowing the government to label any group, farmer unions, student collectives, civil rights groups, as threats to public order. The shift in language is cosmetic and meant to sanitise the Bill’s sweeping repression of dissent. Extremism is of all colours and ideologies including right wing extremism, and therefore this ideological colouring in the Aims and Objectives of the Bill prejudices the intent of tabling of the proposed law itself.

II. Definitions: Vague, overbroad, and open to abuse

Section 2(f): “Unlawful Activity”

The bill defines unlawful activity in terms so vague that it criminalises:

• Speech (“spoken or written”)
• Symbols, gestures, or visual representations
• Activities that merely “tend to interfere” with public order or “generate apprehension”
• Fundraising for such activities

The language allows authorities to criminalise expression, assembly, criticism, satire, and mobilisation, simply by suggesting they pose a potential threat. There is no requirement of actual violence, imminent harm, or intent. The entire section runs counter to the proportionality principles under Articles 19 and 21.

III. Process of Declaring Organisations Unlawful: No real safeguards

Under Sections 3 to 7, the bill empowers the government to:

• Declare an organisation “unlawful” by executive notification;
• Enforce this declaration, in circumstances which according to the State government render it necessary for the Government to declare an organization to be an unlawful organization with immediate effect, before confirmation by the Advisory Board;
• Suppress any facts “in the public interest”;
• Extend the ban year-on-year with no limit on duration.

The Advisory Board that reviews such declarations shall be composed of:

• One retired High Court judge (Chairperson),
• One retired District Judge,
• One Government Pleader.

Notably, the term of the members and Chairperson has not be provided yet. This leaves the possibility open of persons compliant with the government being brought in through the Rules of the proposed law.

This seriously compromises the neutrality and independence of the Board. There is no mechanism for cross-examination, no standards of evidence prescribed, no obligation to publish reasons, and no provision for affected individuals to challenge gag orders or surveillance.

IV. Criminalising association, belief, and participation

Section 8: Section 8 criminalises a wide range of activities related to any organisation declared “unlawful” under the Act. The following acts are punishable with up to 3 years, 5 years, or 7 years of imprisonment, depending on the nature of the alleged involvement:

1. Being a member of an unlawful organisation;
2. Participating in meetings or activities of such organisations;
3. Contributing funds or receiving donations on their behalf;
4. Publishing or circulating material related to them;
5. Promoting their objectives in any manner;
6. Aiding, abetting, encouraging, or inciting support;
7. Possessing property of such organisations.

Penalties escalate based on how “active” the participation is deemed by the state. Even passive association can lead to harsh criminal charges. These clauses mimic UAPA but are applied at a lower legal threshold, enabling pre-emptive criminalisation of ideology and association rather than acts of violence.

V. Powers to Evict, Seize Property, and Forfeit Assets: Extraordinary and disproportionate

Sections 9 and 10:

District Magistrates and Commissioners of Police are empowered to:

• Notify any place as connected to an “unlawful organisation”;
• Evict all occupants from that place; women and children will be given an unspecified “reasonable time” before such eviction
• Seize and forfeit all movable property, money, documents, or personal effects found therein;
• Retain possession of such places for as long as the ban is in effect.

These sections amount to executive-led expropriation with no prior judicial review, offering only token post-facto procedural safeguards.

The provisions are directly lifted from counter-terror laws like UAPA but applied without the threshold of national security or terrorist activity. They can be used against activists, non-profits, and political collectives, without any proof of criminal wrongdoing. As stated above similar provisions that can be used against individuals in a multiplicity of laws, makes both individuals and organisations, protesting or critical of the government in power, vulnerable to harassment through repeated prosecutions and denial of bail.

VI. Financial Forfeiture and Surveillance: Unchecked fiscal repression

Section 11: Forfeiture of funds

• Allows the government to seize any funds it believes with “satisfaction” are used by an unlawful organisation;
• Bypasses judicial warrant in many cases;
• Enables search, seizure, and financial surveillance powers equivalent to tax and terror enforcement regimes.

There is a nominal right to representation, within 15 days, but the final decision lies with the executive, not an independent judicial authority. This absence of judicial oversight and scrutiny further makes the proposed law vulnerable to autocratic misuse by the government of the day.

VII. Curtailment of legal remedies and judicial oversight

Section 12: Allows a revision petition only before the High Court; excluding access to Sessions or District Courts. This violates citizens’ access to justice, especially for the poor and marginalised.

Section 14: Bars any court (except High Court or Supreme Court) from reviewing actions taken under the Act.

These provisions violate the basic structure of judicial review, and the four tier levels of justice adjudication. This also therefore contravenes Articles 14 and 21 by denying due process, effective remedy and fair procedure.

VIII. Investigation and Cognizance: Centralised and politicised

Section 15:

• All offences are cognisable and non-bailable.
• Registration of cases requires written permission from a DIG-level officer, who shall also specify the Investigating Officer who shall investigate the case
• Cognizance by court requires report by an officer not below Additional DGP.

This model makes political clearance mandatory for both arrest and trial, consolidating both administrative and judicial functions in the hands of the police-political bureaucracy. This further concentrates power in the Executive wing of government and militates against the Balance of Powers in the Constitution, further making the proposed law vulnerable to autocratic misuse by the government of the day.

IX. Blanket immunity to state officials

Section 17:

Provides total civil and criminal immunity to the government and any officer acting “in good faith” under the Act.

There is no independent grievance redressal, no liability for false declarations or malicious prosecution, and no institutional oversight. This encourages impunity of those officials who misuse this law against legitimate protest, criticism and dissent.

Conclusion: A constitutional threat in legislative form

The Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024 as tabled on July 9, 2025, is not a public safety measure—it is a legalised blueprint for political repression. It merges the worst features of the UAPA, NSA, and AFSPA without the national security context and applies them to civil resistance, democratic expression, and oppositional mobilisation.

Crucial Issue raised this Dissent Note is, is there a need for one more law when UAPA 1967 (amended in 2008, 2019), Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), 2023 and MCOCA, 1999 already give exist in the state and give powers, seen to be unchecked and draconian, to the state and police?

The proposed law, the MSPS Bill 2024, must also be seen in the context of the existence of multiple pre-existing legislation, UAPA 1967 and BNS 2023 that are central laws that have been enacted to “counter terror” and “organised crimes.” These, with MCOCA, 1999, a state law, already provide extensive legal frameworks to address activities deemed as ‘terrorist or secessionist’. These laws grant the state and its police apparatus extraordinary and significant powers to act against individuals engaging in acts that threaten national security, integrity, or sovereignty.

The incorporation of such stringent provisions into Maharashtra’s criminal laws, especially without the necessary safeguards, raises serious concerns about the potential for misuse. Given the current climate of intolerance of any political or creative opposition to government policies, individuals in power etc. and the abuse of power by investigative agencies, this Bill only deepens the risk of arbitrary state action and further threatens fundamental rights.

The MSPS Bill is, in conclusion:

• Unnecessary: Maharashtra already has MCOCA, UAPA, and now BNS provisions to tackle actual terror.
• Unconstitutional: Violates Articles 14, 19, and 21 of the Constitution.
• Anti-democratic: Targets thought, association, mobilisation, and protest.
• Opaque and unaccountable: Hands sweeping powers to the police and executive without checks.

Failure of the Joint Committee to acknowledge opposition and critical voices

The Joint Committee’s report on the Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024 (Assembly Bill No. 33) stands exposed as a political whitewash of the serious objections raised during its deliberations. Despite five sittings, the committee’s report fails to acknowledge or incorporate the critical concerns voiced by opposition members, particularly those representing the Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA).

These members had raised specific and substantive objections relating to:

• The vague and overbroad definitions of unlawful activity;
• The unchecked powers of seizure and arrest;
• The complete bypassing of district courts;
• The lack of independent oversight in the Advisory Board’s composition;
• The broad surveillance and financial seizure powers with no due process.

Despite these being discussed during the committee proceedings, none of them have been reflected in the final version of the Bill as tabled in the Assembly on July 9, 2025. Instead, the government has proceeded with token amendments that do not alter the law’s repressive framework.

Even more concerning is the opaque and exclusionary manner in which the Committee functioned:

• It refused to conduct public hearings, despite having invited written objections from citizens and organisations across Maharashtra;
• It did not grant a single personal hearing to any of the hundreds of individuals and organisations that submitted critiques;
• It did not make public the list of objections received, nor did it transparently document dissenting opinions within the committee.

This process makes it abundantly clear that the Committee was not a site of democratic deliberation, but a procedural formality deployed to blunt public criticism and legitimise an already pre-determined legislative outcome.

The final bill now tabled reflects this closed process: a text riddled with constitutional infirmities, ideological targeting, and structural bias, passed off as a measure for “public safety” while functioning as an instrument of political suppression.

Detailed report on the Joint Committee report may be read here.

The bill may be read below.

The dissent not in Marathi may be read below:

Related:

Maharashtra Unites: State-wide protests to take place against controversial MSPS Bill on April 22

Understanding the Maharashtra Special Public Security (MSPS) Bill, 2024 | Threat to Civil Liberties?

CJP sends objections against Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill, 2024, citing grave threats to civil liberties

Press Release: Experts warn, Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill a threat to civil liberties

Maharashtra Special Public Security Bill: Bogey of “urban naxals” invoked to legitimise clamping down of dissent?

The post Dissent Note: Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024 appeared first on SabrangIndia.

By the end of April 2025, the total number of farmer suicides had risen to 869, according to divisional-level reports from the relief and rehabilitation department, report Scroll. Amravati division topped the list with 327 deaths, followed by Marathwada with 269, Nagpur with 135, Nashik with 106, and Pune division with 32.

Marathwada, historically one of India’s most drought-prone and underserved regions, is reeling under an escalating crisis. From just January to March 2025, 269 suicides were reported in its eight districts- Beed (71), Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar (50), Nanded (37), Parbhani (33), Dharashiv (31), Latur (18), Hingoli (16), and Jalna (13). This marked a steep rise from 204 suicides during the same period in 2024 (TOI, April 2025).

These are not just numbers, they are lost lives, shattered families, and communities pushed beyond endurance. Yet, Maharashtra’s response has been chillingly procedural: of the 767 suicide cases reported between January and March, just 373 were deemed “eligible” for compensation. The families of only 327 farmers received the state’s standard ex gratia of ₹1 lakh. The remaining 200 cases were rejected. The fate of 194 others remains suspended in bureaucratic inquiry limbo, according to a report in the PTI.

A vicious spiral of loss

Each suicide is a family shattered. Families like that of 43-year-old Kailash Arjun Nagare in Buldhana, once honoured with the Maharashtra government’s Young Farmer Award, who died by suicide on Holi by consuming poison in his field, as reported by PTI in March 2025. His suicide note blamed the acute water crisis and government apathy. Nagare had recently led a five-day hunger strike demanding irrigation water for 14 villages from the Khadakpurna reservoir. His body was not allowed to be moved for hours as protesting farmers demanded accountability. “This is not a suicide; it is state-sanctioned murder,” said farmer leader Ravikant Tupkar, according to the Indian Express report.

Or take the case of Sonia Uikey, a 17-year-old from Wardha, who hanged herself on July 4, 2025 because her family couldn’t afford her Class 12 school fees. “We’ve moved from farmers killing themselves to their children ending their lives too,” said NCP (SP) MP Amar Kale after visiting her home, as reported by PTI.

The math of misery

At the heart of the crisis lies an economic model stacked against the farmer. As veteran farmer activist Vijay Jawandhiya explained to Rediff, the government celebrates low inflation, 3.5% as per the RBI, while ignoring the price farmers have paid for it. “Inflation fell because vegetable and crop prices collapsed, not because life became cheaper for farmers,” he said while speaking with Rediff. While input costs like fertiliser, health, and education remained high, prices for crops plummeted due to imports and policy neglect. Soya bean was sold at ₹4,000 per quintal against an MSP of ₹4,892. Cotton fetched ₹7,000 against an MSP of ₹7,500. Tur dal prices dropped disastrously from ₹12,000 to ₹6,000 per quintal.

“Farmers are losing money on every harvest,” said food policy expert Devinder Sharma, according to a report of The Hindu. “It’s not that agriculture is unproductive, it’s that we have made it unviable.” He cited the NSSO’s most recent Situation Assessment Survey, which found that average monthly income from farming stands at just ₹10,218. This boils down to a daily income of ₹27 from agriculture alone, barely enough to buy a meal, let alone repay debts, as reported by The Hindu.

Government Aid: A leaky pipe

Out of the 767 suicides recorded between January and March 2025, only 373 cases were deemed eligible for compensation; 200 were rejected, and 194 were still under inquiry, according to Indian Express. Of the eligible cases, just 327 families received the ₹1 lakh financial aid promised under government policy.

Worse, large sections of vulnerable farmers are excluded from this count altogether. “Women farmers, Dalits, Adivasis, and tenant cultivators are systematically excluded,” says journalist P. Sainath, as per The Hindu. “If a deceased farmer doesn’t have a 7/12 land deed, their death is simply not counted.” After 2014, changes in suicide data methodology, like classifying tenant farmers as agricultural labourers, further diluted the real scale of the crisis, according to People’s Archive of Rural India.

Seeds of Exploitation: The HTBT cotton crisis

Even Maharashtra’s cotton sector is now undermined by an unregulated seed market. Speaking to The Hindu, Jawandhia warned that nearly 1 crore of the 2 crore cotton seed packets in use this year are unauthorized F2 (second-generation) seeds. These genetically inferior, unofficial hybrids are being sold for ₹2,000/kg despite production costs of just ₹40/kg, creating a grey market that exploits desperate farmers. He urged the government to introduce pureline cotton varieties, allowing farmers to replant without buying from private firms every season.

Uneven burdens across regions

The reasons suicides are higher in Vidarbha and Marathwada, compared to Konkan or western Maharashtra, lie in systemic neglect. Vidarbha’s agriculture is largely rain-fed and high-risk. Landholdings have shrunk drastically, families now farm barely five acres each. In contrast, western Maharashtra enjoys access to horticulture, subsidies, and better irrigation. Konkan’s rural economy is cushioned by remittances from Mumbai (Rediff, July 2025).

The state government continues to announce schemes like the ₹1,500 per month Laadki Bahin Yojana for women and ₹6,000 PM-Kisan aid. But when compared to the ₹45,000 monthly salary a peon is expected to draw under the 8th Pay Commission, these figures seem paltry. “There are two Indias,” Jawandhia says. “A peon in the government earns ₹45,000 per month, while a farmer gets ₹1,500 under Laadki Bahin Yojana. What’s ₹1,500 for a woman managing an entire farm household?”

Forgotten families, drowning in debt

The effects ripple across generations. In Pali, Beed, Meena Dhere works in onion fields for ₹250 a day while her elderly mother-in-law watches over her children. Her husband Ashok died by suicide in January 2025 after accumulating a ₹3 lakh debt. In Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar, 45-year-old Sadhana Kalaskar lives under a tin roof, trying to pay off a ₹6 lakh wedding loan after her husband’s suicide in November 2024, as reported by The Hindu.

“Government policies speak of relief, but the ground reality is abandonment,” said social worker Nitnaware. “After a suicide, the family is left with not just grief but also loans, unpaid school fees, and hungry mouths.”

A Political Hotbed, But No Long-Term Solutions

Farmer suicides became a central issue during the 2024–25 election cycle. PM Modi promised MSP of ₹6,000 per quintal for soya bean, while Congress’s Rahul Gandhi vowed ₹7,000. But beyond these headlines, little changed. On July 3, opposition parties staged a walkout in the Maharashtra assembly, accusing the state of ignoring the non-payment crisis for soybean farmers, as reported by PTI.

Rahul Gandhi’s reaction to the suicide figures summed up public frustration: “767 families shattered in three months. Is this just a statistic? Or a stain on our collective conscience?”

सोचिए.. सिर्फ 3 महीनों में महाराष्ट्र में 767 किसानों ने आत्महत्या कर ली।

क्या ये सिर्फ एक आंकड़ा है? नहीं। ये 767 उजड़े हुए घर हैं। 767 परिवार जो कभी नहीं संभल पाएंगे।

और सरकार? चुप है। बेरुख़ी से देख रही है।

किसान हर दिन कर्ज़ में और गहराई तक डूब रहा है – बीज महंगे हैं, खाद… pic.twitter.com/uDzFpYoMrG

— Rahul Gandhi (@RahulGandhi) July 3, 2025

A death every few hours

Farmer rights groups like Kisan Putra Andolan estimate that Maharashtra now loses 7–8 farmers every single day. These are not mere economic failures—they are policy murders, born of wilful neglect, rising input costs, collapsed MSPs, and mounting debt. In over two decades, Maharashtra has recorded 39,825 farmer suicides. Of these, 22,193 were confirmed to be due to agrarian distress. The government has paid ₹220 crore as compensation, an average of just ₹55,000 per suicide.

The numbers are terrifying, but they only tell part of the story. Behind each death is a voice that went unheard, a protest ignored, a loan unpaid, a dream deferred. Maharashtra’s farmer crisis is not seasonal, it is structural. Until that is acknowledged, the state will continue to bury its farmers and their futures, one suicide at a time.

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The post A Silent Emergency: Farmer suicides surge in Maharashtra amid apathy, debt, and systemic collapse appeared first on SabrangIndia.

The mobilisation was, in large part, organised by the Communist Party of India (Marxist) and the Communist Party of India, with support from people’s organisations. Key MVA constituents—the Shiv Sena (Uddhav Balasaheb Thackeray), Indian National Congress, and the Nationalist Congress Party (Sharad Pawar faction) turned out in support. The turnout reflected a broad political front, including working-class organisations, students, farmers’ unions, and civil liberties groups.

State Secretary of the CPI (M), Dr. Ajit Nawale, had issued an open call for participation across Maharashtra, urging district units to treat this as a “decisive stand against authoritarianism.” Protesters arrived from across the state—by bus, train, and private vehicles—responding to the call to defend democratic rights.

Opposition and civil society leaders stand together

Several prominent leaders stood in solidarity at the protest. Shiv Sena (UBT) leader Uddhav Thackeray, Supriya Sule of the NCP (SP), CPI state secretary and labour organiser Subhash Lande and senior social activist Ulka Mahajan joined demonstrators at Azad Maidan, expressing serious concern about the implications of the bill.

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These leaders and activists highlighted how the Bill, under the pretext of “public safety,” could be used to suppress dissent, criminalise activism, and target opposition voices. They noted that terms such as “radical Left-wing organisations” and “urban Naxal” remain undefined and dangerously broad in the amended draft, leaving space for arbitrary interpretation.

Other speakers also pointed out that the bill’s provisions—such as unchecked powers to evict communities (Section 9), seize properties (Section 10), and deny lower court remedies (Section 12)—mirror the most draconian aspects of laws like the UAPA and NSA.

From every corner of Maharashtra, a message of resistance

The crowd was a mix of students, youth, farmers, trade unionists, and senior citizens. Red flags and protest banners filled the grounds of Azad Maidan. Many held up pamphlets circulated by the organising groups, breaking down the bill’s most dangerous provisions and urging complete withdrawal—not mere amendments. Visuals from the ground show the scale and intensity of the crowd gathered at the ground. Protesters emphasised that the Joint Committee’s amendments are superficial and leave intact the state’s power of surveillance, to prosecute, and punish under vaguely defined offences (Detailed report on earlier protests may be viewed here)

Backdrop: The Bill’s imminent passage in the Monsoon Session

The Maharashtra government had invited public comments and criticisms on the Bill, to be submitted by April 1. Among thousands of others, Citizens for Justice and Peace had also submitted an elaborate critique. This may be read here. The protest coincides with the start of the Maharashtra Assembly’s monsoon session, where the revised Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill is likely to be introduced. Although the Joint Committee proposed some changes—such as limiting the bill’s applicability to organisations and raising the investigation officer’s rank—rights groups and opposition parties have argued that these are cosmetic changes that do not alter the repressive core of the legislation.

The continued use of ideological terms, the lack of statutory definitions, and the shielding of officials from prosecution (Sections 14 and 15) have all been flagged as severe threats to constitutional safeguards. The committee’s refusal to hold public hearings with those who submitted objections has also drawn sharp criticism.

The joint coalition of activists, people’s organisations and the left front have strongly critiqued the published ‘report of the Joint Committee.’ Citizens for Justice and Peace presents its critique here:

Note on Joint Committee Report on the Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024: Superficial amendments, structural repression intact

June 30, 2025

What has been termed as the Joint Committee’s report on the Maharashtra Special Public Safety Bill, 2024 (Assembly Bill No. 33), appears to be a clear whitewash of the actual discussions that took place with members of the Opposition over five sittings since the Committee was formed. The obvious motive of this government is not even to record or allow the dissent and voices that were raised by members of the Opposition (Maha Vikas Aghadi) on key aspects of the Bill which includes definitions, seizure and arrest powers, superintendence of investigations, constitution of the Advisory Board and also the denial of one tier of justice, the district courts for first appeals.

Fundamentally, the very insistence of this regime and administration for the passage of a fourth law to ostensibly counter terrorism (or Naxal-caused terror) when Maharashtra already has the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crimes Act (MCOCA) since 1999, the Unlawful Practices (Prevention) Act since its inception –first 1967 and post 2004 with multiple amendments since it’s a central law—and finally the 2023 Bharatiya Nyaya Samhita (BNS) Sections 113-119 that have incorporated all draconian sections of the UAPA in everyday criminal law. [The justification, therefore that ‘other states have such a law’ is nullified by the facts: these states had enacted these legislations before the UAPA in amended form applied to the entire country and also the BNS, 2023.]

What can be the reasons (or the motive) to bring in a fourth such legislation when the above stringent provisions are already in force? Except to use it as a sword over the heads of activists (political and social), writers, dissenters, political opponents—in fact any person/s who are “inconvenient” to the regime or administration? A fourth law with draconian provisions will make bail impossible!

The press note by the government on behalf of the Committee clearly reveal that the discussions and deliberations notwithstanding, the attitude of the state government has not changed and the final Bill (in few form) when it will be tabled, will continue to be riddled with core constitutional defects.

Changes outlined in the Press Note June 26, 2025 on “Committee’s Findings:

The changes made are cosmetic, rhetorical, and deliberately evasive. The bill retains its unconstitutional structure, vague terminology, and legal architecture that allows for the criminalisation of dissent, targeting of political opponents, and violation of fundamental rights.

Despite widespread opposition, extensive written objections, and participation from multiple political formations and civil society organisations, the Committee has made only three formal amendments:

1. Rewording the objective clause to target “radical Left-wing organisations or similar organisations”;
2. Recasting the composition of the Advisory Board;
3. Raising the investigating officer’s rank from Sub-Inspector to Deputy Superintendent of Police.

None of these changes address the key concerns raised regarding the need for multiplicity of counter terror laws, wide definitions, unchecked executive power, procedural violations, denial of legal remedy, and institutional impunity. This report, therefore, must be categorically rejected. The bill remains a direct attack on India’s constitutional order.

I. Title and Objective: Politically weaponised language, vague in law

Original title:

“A Bill to provide for the more effective prevention of certain unlawful acts of persons and organizations…”

Amended title:

“A Bill to effectively prevent certain illegal activities of radical Left-wing organisations or similar organisations…”

Analysis:

• The rewording does not narrow the scope. It simply replaces generic terms with ideologically charged and undefined phrases.
• The inclusion of “radical Left-wing organisations or similar organisations” is deliberately vague. No legal definition of “radical” is provided. The phrase “similar organisations” creates infinite elasticity, allowing any ideological formation—even peaceful or democratic—to be labelled a threat. [Note: Radical Right-Wing Organisations have escaped all consideration or mention!]
• The justification for this framing lies in the invocation of “urban Naxalism”—a politically loaded term with no statutory definition. Its continued use codifies the state’s ideological hostility to dissent.

Conclusion: This amendment intensifies the bill’s politically motivated purpose. Here is not a law to main peace or law and order, but a tool to terrorise and silent dissent. It reinforces a narrative in which civil society actors, trade unions, student groups, and political opponents can be branded as subversive. The bill’s objective remains a tool of ideological surveillance, not a legitimate legal safeguard. 

II. Advisory Board: Erosion of judicial independence

Original Clause 5(2):

The Advisory Board was to comprise individuals who “are or have been judges of a High Court or are eligible for appointment.”

Amended Clause:

Now allows appointment of:

• Retired High Court Judges
• Retired District Judges
• Government Advocates of the High Court

Analysis:

• This amendment is a deliberate dilution of judicial independence.
• Government advocates are functionaries of the executive. Their inclusion on a body meant to evaluate the legality of state actions obliterates the principle of neutral oversight.
• Retired district judges do not carry the constitutional status or independence of High Court judges.
• The executive retains unchecked power to choose pliant members, turning the Advisory Board into a formal rubber stamp.

Conclusion: The Advisory Board, which was supposed to serve as a procedural check, has now been structurally compromised. The amendment institutionalises executive capture of oversight mechanisms. 

III. Investigating Officer Rank: Cosmetic bureaucratic adjustment

Original Clause 15(1):

Police officers not below the rank of Sub-Inspector to investigate offences under the Act.

Amended Clause:

Investigation restricted to officers of the rank of Deputy Superintendent of Police or above.

Analysis:

• Raising the rank of the investigating officer is an administrative change. It does not alter the grounds, process, or criteria of investigation.
• The real issue is not who conducts the investigation, but what can be investigated.
• The law allows vague, subjective interpretation of terms like “association,” “support,” or “membership” of radical groups.
• The UAPA and NSA demonstrate that higher rank officers have been equally complicit in abuse and arbitrary arrests.

Conclusion: This amendment is a public relations manoeuvre, not a safeguard. It creates the illusion of due process while leaving arbitrary detention and criminalisation of dissent fully operational.

IV. Structural defects the Committee has deliberately ignored

The most dangerous provisions of the original bill, identified in detailed submissions by multiple groups including CJP, remain untouched. The committee has not even acknowledged, let alone amended, the following especially:

Section 2(f): Overbroad definition of “Unlawful Activity”

• No revision made.
• The section allows any form of protest, critique, or public mobilisation to be interpreted as a threat to public order.

Section 9: Arbitrary eviction and property seizure

• District Magistrates and Police Commissioners retain absolute powers to seize properties and evict residents from notified areas.
• Only a vague promise of “reasonable time” to vacate is offered to women and children.

Section 10(1): Confiscation of moveable property

• No legal safeguards introduced.
• Entire homes, records, belongings, and finances can be seized on executive suspicion.

Section 12: Bar on district-level legal remedy

• Individuals can only approach the High Court or Supreme Court to challenge state action.
• This provision deliberately denies access to justice for economically weaker citizens and violates the principle of accessible legal redress.

Sections 14 & 15: Blanket immunity to officials

• Officers and magistrates acting under the law are granted total immunity, even when they violate constitutional rights.
• No mechanisms for accountability or independent review have been introduced.

Conclusion: The bill continues to function as an extra-constitutional regime. It merges preventive detention, ideological policing, and property seizure into a legal framework shielded from public accountability and judicial review.

V. Committee’s Ideological Closing Statement: Criminalising youth and dissent

The report ends with a “recommendation” urging the state to act against the “growing attraction” of youth to Naxalism and to implement policies to “discourage” them and “bring them into the mainstream.”

Analysis:

• This ideological framing reinforces that the law is designed to monitor, control, and neutralise student movements, political education, and grassroots activism.
• The state’s role is redefined not as a guarantor of rights, but as a censor of ideas.

Conclusion: The bill is not preventive security legislation. It is a state doctrine against dissent, designed to criminalise political education, intellectual opposition, and mobilisation.

This report must be rejected in its entirety!

The Joint Committee has failed in its legislative duty to protect constitutional values. It has whitewashed a draconian bill under the guise of minor technical amendments. What remains is a legal instrument of political repression.

The bill:

• Treats opposition as extremism
• Treats mobilisation as subversion
• Treats dissent as treason

This is a dangerous precedent. Not just that the Maharashtra government has reduced the functioning of a democratically set up Committee with Members of the Opposition in the State Assembly to tokenism but is proceeding –riding roughshod over critiques of such a law—with a statute that will have dangerous consequences. If enacted, it will be used to target civil society, demolish protest movements, paralyse unions, and intimidate the political opposition across Maharashtra.

Note prepared by Team Citizens for Justice and Peace

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