n the twisted, prejudiced landscape of today’s India, it has become routine for Hindu mobs—often in the company of the police—to storm into the homes of war veterans’ families under the cover of night, accuse them of being “Bangladeshi” or “Rohingya”, demand citizenship documents, and subject them to terror. Instead of taking action against the intruders, the police detain the male family members, as the mob bellows “Jai Shri Ram!”

Eventually, the men are released, but not a single case is filed against those who carried out the violence.

It has become standard practice for Delhi’s industries minister to respond to baseless claims that poor, mostly Muslim labourers working in sweatshops are “infiltrators” from Bangladesh or Myanmar waging a so-called “jeans jihad.” The result: factory shutdowns and mass job losses in a country already struggling with unemployment.

Similarly, in Assam, government-led eviction drives—such as the most recent one this week—target Muslim homes built under central housing schemes tied to drinking water projects and attended by children enrolled in flagship educational programs.

The branding of Muslims as “Bangladeshi” or “Rohingya” has become a powerful dog whistle—an excuse to intimidate and expel. These aren’t isolated incidents. The three examples cited above were all reported recently, but they are part of a deliberate, coordinated campaign.

Such acts of violence and fear-mongering are intensifying nationwide—especially in Bharatiya Janata Party-ruled states—and amount to a blueprint, an agenda, a roadmap, to erase the idea that Muslims belong equally in the Indian republic. Many of these atrocities go unreported, dismissed as minor notes in the playbook of a new national order.

Across Maharashtra, Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, Odisha, Rajasthan, Delhi, Gujarat—a sweeping campaign is underway to target Bengali Muslims, often under the pretense of deporting “illegal immigrants.” Even language is no longer a reliable filter: all Muslims are now being systematically scrutinised and marginalised.

Legal identification—Aadhaar, PAN, voter IDs—are frequently discredited or ignored altogether, as unfounded claims about national security and demographic shifts take centre stage.

In defense of recent demolitions, Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma declared:
“Legally, all of them may not be foreigners. But we, the people of Assam—especially Hindus—are becoming a hopeless minority in our own land… We have lost our culture, our land, our temples. The law gives us no remedy. That’s why we are desperate—not for revenge, but for survival.”

No state has pursued this path of exclusion as doggedly as Assam. It has pioneered a state-backed campaign of dispossession targeting Muslims: through demolition, detention, disenfranchisement, and deportation. Thousands have been rendered homeless, stateless, and voiceless—left with no livelihood, their children pulled from schools, and their futures erased.

Assam: Ground Zero

A recent report by the National Law School of India University and Queen Mary University of London revealed how Assam’s Foreigners’ Tribunals—backed by the Gauhati High Court—have stripped thousands of their citizenship, bypassing proper legal procedures and Supreme Court rulings.

The study, which analysed 1,200 High Court orders, was compiled by Professor Mohsin Alam Bhat and colleagues Arushi Gupta and Shardul Gopujkar. As Professor Tarunabh Khaitan from LSE Law School wrote in support:
“Future generations of Indians will be ashamed, appalled, and enraged by this systematic cruelty being perpetrated in the name of their safety and security.”

Even in 2017, during a reporting trip to Assam, the trend was evident: entire lives upended, families torn apart, all cloaked under a veneer of legality sanctioned by the Supreme Court. At the time, the poorest—often without documents—were the main targets.

Though some Hindu migrants were initially caught in the dragnet, it was later tailored to disproportionately affect Muslims.

The consequences of Assam’s model are becoming national in scale. What began there is being mirrored across India.

In Maharashtra, Bengali-speaking Muslims are detained despite valid IDs and driven to the Bangladesh border, where they are forced across—sometimes at gunpoint. In Uttar Pradesh, mobs invade Muslim homes, label them “illegal immigrants,” and hand them over to police, who conduct arbitrary detentions. Many vanish without trace; others are freed only after legal battles or public outrage.

Minor details—such as a Bangladeshi phone contact—are cited as reasons for expulsion. These “pushbacks,” as they’re called, bypass all judicial processes. No magistrates, no hearings—just forced removals over unguarded border stretches.

In the National Capital Region, widespread detentions of Bengali-speaking Muslims caught attention not because of their injustice, but due to secondary effects—like garbage pile-ups and a shortage of domestic help in affluent areas like Gurugram.

No Law Required

The exclusion blueprint now promotes two distinct standards—one for Hindus, another for Muslims. State support for Hindu religious events stands in stark contrast to the criminalisation of public Muslim prayers in several northern states.

Even Muslim lifestyle choices—food, clothing, relationships—are openly targeted. The legal system reflects this duality: Muslims accused of cow slaughter are publicly shamed, beaten, paraded, and forced to chant pro-Hindu slogans, while Hindu suspects are quietly processed without media fanfare.

Bulldozers—once subject to court oversight—are now instruments of punishment. Even a November 2024 Supreme Court order halting indiscriminate demolitions has proven toothless, thanks to loopholes that allow demolitions in “unauthorised” or “public” spaces, or those backed by explicit court orders.

The BJP has not hidden its ambitions. Home Minister Amit Shah once called Bangladeshi migrants “termites.” Prime Minister Modi remarked that dissenters could be “identified by their clothes.” In Uttarakhand, Muslim homes are marked with black crosses before demolition, justified as part of the fight against “land jihad” and “population imbalance.”

Understanding the Chronology

The exclusion campaign follows a clear sequence: revoke protections, bypass legal process, and criminalise citizenship itself. Shah’s infamous 2020 quote rings ominously:
“Aap chronology samjhiye.”

The BJP has merged state machinery with mob rule—weaponising bureaucracy, embedding bias into justice systems, media, and governance.

Mainstream media abets the cause: spreading anti-Muslim tropes during COVID, ignoring hate speech, glorifying demolitions. Only recently did the Delhi High Court dismiss 16 fabricated cases of Muslims accused of “spreading” the virus—a rare correction, barely acknowledged.

A continuous cycle of anti-Muslim propaganda is perpetuated by social media trolls, television anchors, politicians, and judicial inaction. What was once unthinkable is now routine. What once shocked, now passes unnoticed.

This is India’s new normal.