I waited a while before watching Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound on Netflix. Even with glowing reviews and friends urging me to watch it, I knew it wouldn’t be an easy experience. It’s heavy in more ways than one, because the film doesn’t just explore caste discrimination, it also shines a light on the prejudice faced by Muslims in India. So from the beginning, you know you’re stepping into something intense and uncomfortable.
Neeraj Ghaywan holds an important place in Indian cinema as he’s one of the very few Dalit directors who publicly acknowledge his Dalit identity. As viewers, most of us don’t sit and think about a filmmaker’s caste or religion when watching a movie. But the uncomfortable truth is that opportunities in the film industry still seem to be uneven. If he is the first Dalit filmmaker in decades because of gatekeeping rather than lack of talent, then that says a lot about how deep systemic bias still runs in India, even in an artistic platform like the film industry. This is something the film industries across India need to acknowledge and work on.
As expected, the story in Homebound was heartwrenching. It’s based on a real incident, which sadly doesn’t come as a surprise. The film also draws inspiration from the Bhim-Meem idea, a political expression that promotes Dalit-Muslim unity, adding another layer of depth and context to its narrative.
For me, the most heartbreaking scene was when Ishaan’s character, a young Muslim boy, is accused of being Pakistani after an India vs Pakistan cricket match. That moment was infuriating and hard to sit through.
At the same time, I feel Indian films need to move beyond the usual “General Category vs Dalit” and “Hindu vs Muslim” framework when addressing oppression. Recent incidents, including the honour killing of a Dalit man by an OBC family because he dared to love their girl, show that reality is much more complex in India, and discrimination doesn’t come from one direction. It exists across castes and religions. Dalit Christians, Pasmanda Muslims, and many others face layered forms of exclusion, yet these conversations rarely enter mainstream media or pop culture.
I recently spoke to someone from the Yadav community who felt that Yadavs should be getting more opportunities than others in Bihar. It surprised me, because it shows how deeply caste identity shapes expectations, even among groups that aren’t “upper caste.” It’s even sadder to see communities that once faced discrimination now repeating the same mindset toward those they see as lower in the hierarchy. Many people assume caste hierarchy is a simple top-to-bottom structure, but in reality, it behaves more like overlapping layers of status, power, and regional identity.
I also think about the discrimination that exists within minority communities. My neighbour, a very liberal Muslim woman in Kerala, once told me that some of her extended family members won’t eat food cooked by non-Muslims. So who addresses that side of prejudice?
If we want a more equal and united India, we need to acknowledge and call out all forms of discrimination. But if someone tries to make a film exploring other angles, it often gets labelled propaganda or agenda-driven. That makes honest conversation difficult.
We’ve seen similar themes in films like Dhadak 2 this year, and even the first Dhadak explored the same kind of social divide. Something that stood out to me across movies in this space was the prominent placement of Ambedkar’s photograph. It’s a small detail, but it says a lot. Ambedkar himself is a layered and complex figure. His critique was not limited to Hinduism, and he questioned multiple belief systems with the same sharpness. But that side of him rarely enters public discussion, because even many of his admirers seem hesitant or defensive about acknowledging it.
Many of us are ready to recognise discrimination against Muslims and Dalits, and those conversations are important. But there should also be space to talk about other traumatic histories like the Kashmiri Pandit exodus without being dismissed or judged. Empathy and understanding shouldn’t stop at one group. If injustice matters, it should matter universally.
This isn’t a rant. Just a hope that our films, stories, and discussions grow braver and more layered. Because India isn’t simple. It’s diverse, complicated, emotional, and full of uncomfortable truths. And storytelling feels meaningful when it reflects that reality rather than just one slice of it.
I recently watched Nobody Wants This Season 2. If you haven’t seen Season 1 of this Netflix series, I really think you should. It deals with a topic that most interfaith love stories never touch — conversion. It’s a sensitive issue, especially among Abrahamic religions. So it felt quite bold that the makers decided to go into it at all.
Season 1 had already touched on the idea of conversion. But Season 2 takes it a little further. This time, you see the boyfriend, who is a Jewish rabbi, and his family, constantly pushing his Christian girlfriend, who seems more atheist or maybe agnostic, to convert. It adds a new layer to their story and makes the whole situation feel even more complicated.
However, this post is not a detailed review of the series, but the many thoughts that came to my mind while watching it, mainly concerning conversion and how it is seen in India.
There are many abroad who have a distorted idea of religious freedom in India, no thanks to misleading, half-baked news articles, often written by left-leaning Hindus or non-Hindus, and I wish to debunk those notions as well and present them from the perspective of a centre-right Hindu who was, till two years ago, a leftist.
Be prepared for a long post, because this is a topic I feel strongly about. If you’re short on time, you may want to save or bookmark it and read it when you’re free.
A Hindu’s View on Conversion
Before I begin, I want to make my religious beliefs clear. I’m not a religious Hindu in the traditional sense, but I’m still a staunch Hindu. If that sounds confusing, it’s only because Hinduism allows this kind of pluralism. You can be spiritual, non-religious, or even an atheist, and still remain Hindu.
The faith makes space for many ways of thinking, which is why someone like me fits comfortably within it. I’m not ostracized for eating beef, nor am I ostracized for not following religious beliefs properly. I can question and I can push back against religious rules I don’t believe in without repercussions.
This freedom that my belief generously allows me is exactly why I strongly stand by the community and call myself a “staunch Hindu.” I advocate for the rights of my community, which a religious Hindu in India may not always do, as they wish to appear secular and tolerant of even the injustices against us.
Now that my beliefs are out of the way, I want to say that even as a non-traditional, progressive Hindu feminist, I don’t support conversion. I don’t understand why anyone has to give up their identity for love, marriage, or even politics, no matter how much anyone would try to justify it.
Most Hindus in India feel the same way, which is why you rarely see the community protesting against anti-conversion laws in some states. Among ourselves, we often say the same thing quietly: “What’s the need to convert?” Of course, many reasons are given. I address them later in this post.
Then we see Indian-origin Hindu politicians in America converting to Christianity to stay relevant and gain acceptance, and it makes us pause. It makes us wonder, “Is America really the land of the free?” And on what basis do they judge India on religious matters when they themselves have not reached full religious secularism yet?
However, in Abrahamic religions, conversion is considered a matter of freedom of faith. This is acknowledged. But this is also a major reason for communal tensions in a Hindu-majority country like India. Most Hindus do not believe in conversion or proselytization, while Abrahamic faiths consider it a part of their practice.
Hindus are of the belief that everyone should be free to practice their faith without disturbing others or disrespecting anyone else’s faith. Proselytization goes against that idea. It feels disrespectful because it implies someone’s existing faith is not good enough. It involves putting down those beliefs, so they are convinced enough to join the new one. So, this “freedom of faith” often comes at the expense of disrespecting others, which was tolerated for the longest period of time, till the Hindu community got the strength to say “enough is enough.”
This pushback is the part that’s often presented to the world as a “lack of religious freedom” in India. Or, to put it more frankly, the lack of freedom to convert Hindus. This clash of beliefs has no solution, and I see it continuing even after a change of government. It’s a label the country has to live with, because there can be no middle ground when people feel their identity is being erased.
A thought I often hear is, “There are so many Christian-majority and Muslim-majority countries in the world. Why can’t they just leave us alone?” It reflects the frustration many Hindus feel when they see constant pressure to convert despite already being a global minority.
Pressure to Convert in Interfaith Marriages
The topic of conversion in marriages is prevalent in Indian Reddit circles. Almost every other day, you see someone saying, “My partner’s parents want me to convert. What should I do?”
From what I’ve seen, it’s usually the Hindu who is expected to convert. And often, the Hindu partner is unaware of what that really means. They hear lines like, “You just need to get baptized. After that, you can follow your own culture,” and they assume there’s no conversion involved. Many agree because they don’t realize the deeper implications. We walk into these situations thinking others are as pluralistic and flexible as we are, and that’s where the misunderstanding begins.
Conversion is also very normalized. When I ask my Christian friends if someone needs to convert to marry into their community, they casually say “yes,” as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
We recently saw this when JD Vance openly and coolly said he hopes his wife, Usha Vance, a Hindu, converts someday. Ironically, the same line appears in Nobody Wants This Season 2 as well, where the Jewish rabbi says he hopes his Christian girlfriend converts one day.
For us Hindus, it’s a culture shock, almost regressive, because we never expect something like this from others. At the same time, Abrahamics and international news channels are confused when they report that there’s outrage in India over Vance’s statement. They have no idea why Hindus are angry. So they brand it as “far-right Hindutva.”
Why Do Hindus Dislike Conversion?
Most Hindus find the idea of conversion strange, because the religion itself accepts that God can appear in many forms. It is naturally pluralistic. So someone like me, who is not religious, or even someone who is an atheist, is still seen as a Hindu, because schools like Carvaka already accept that. We also tend to readily accept other gods because of this pluralism. We don’t consider them as fake. We don’t believe that ours is the “only true god” either.
This pluralistic mindset of Hindus is both a boon and a bane. A boon because we naturally accept all faiths, and a bane because we expect the same openness from others, and we don’t always receive it.
On top of that, many Hindus today focus more on careers and less on having children. So there is a natural tendency to protect the current Hindu population from inducements. The Chattisgarh High Court reiterated the same thing recently:
Chhattisgarh High Court Condemning Induced Conversions
With all this in mind, it’s natural that the majority of Hindus don’t look at conversion in a positive way. Our faith is already mocked by many Abrahamics around the world, who use words like “demon-worshipping pagans.” This makes it even more important to push back against that narrative and simply exist as we are.
Hindus, in short, want the freedom to be seen and respected in their own identity. But this way of thinking is often dismissed by, ironically, the very same people who speak loudly about secularism and freedom of religion. If others believe Hindus can be freely converted, then Hindus also have the right to openly object to it.
Ghar Wapsi
Now, some may argue that even Hindus encourage conversion in the form of Ghar Wapsi (reverting to Hinduism). However, Ghar wapsi is not a core part of Hinduism. It is more of a reaction to the aggressive conversions that have been happening in the country.
Most people I know converted to Abrahamic religions because of perks, not out of faith. They were poor and needed money. They were promised financial benefits if they converted. The fact that they are openly admitting this is nothing any faith should feel proud of. The only reason to convert to another faith should be faith itself. You should feel that the new faith and its principles are right for you, not be influenced by inducements or pressure.
If you ask why the Hindu side can’t match these perks, the answer is simple: we don’t have multiple Hindu-majority nations funding such activities. India is the only major Hindu-majority country, so the playing field is not equal.
Ghar Wapsi is simply an attempt, based on faith alone, to help those who genuinely want to return to Hinduism.
Arguments Used to Justify Conversions in India
1. Charity
There’s this belief that the money given during conversions is out of pure kindness. But I know many Christians who are struggling, working extra hours just to manage their basic needs. If the intention is genuine help, why not support them first?
And, most importantly, why should any help come with the condition of conversion?
Real help doesn’t demand a change of faith. If it does, you have to wonder whether it’s truly help or part of an agenda.
2. Caste Discrimination in Hinduism
It’s also misleading to say that converted Christians escape discrimination to enter a better way of life after they leave Hinduism. Many are treated as “lower-level” Christians, and some have even gone back to Hinduism because of this.
Source: New Indian Express (July 2025)
Additionally, consider the points made below (took help from Google Search AI):
One person told me about a convert in her family who wants to return but cannot, because they signed a financial help agreement that now holds them back.
The good thing is that the caste system within Hindu society is slowly being dealt with. Families are becoming more open to inter-caste marriages, including in my own family. This change is happening faster in the South than in the North. It’s not perfect yet, but progress is real. In this situation, constantly blaming a community that is actively trying to fix the problem does not help.
Yes, many Hindus still support caste, and as long as they exist, the issue will continue. But this divide is also kept alive by leaders, both political and religious, because it benefits them. If caste truly disappears, many of these leaders lose their power to divide or convert Hindus, and that is why the system hasn’t faded away completely.
Instead of building bridges, the “narrative builders” choose to burn them by feeding divisive stories, which only pushes people of different castes further apart. Missionaries often highlight caste discrimination so aggressively because it helps them drive conversions. So you have to ask — are they really helping, or are they using the problem to serve their own goals?
4. Freedom of Faith
The tricky side of conversion in India is that Hindus openly say they are against it. But in Kerala, I often see Christian groups shift their stand based on who is converting and to which religion. They welcome anyone who joins their faith, but they loudly object when someone chooses to leave it.
Churches often use the term “love jihad” when a Christian woman converts to Islam for love. Yet the same groups talk about “freedom of faith” when a Hindu woman converts to Christianity for love.
Since both Abrahamic religions support proselytization as part of their belief system, you would expect them to be supportive of conversions into each other’s religion. But that rarely happens.
Complications of Conversion in Interfaith Relationships
Spoiler Ahead for Nobody Wants This Season 2
Click to reveal spoiler
Considering the many unwanted complications related to conversion, I was really hoping the female character in Nobody Wants This would take a stand. I wanted both partners to accept that two religions can live side by side without one needing to disappear. The ending didn’t go the way I hoped, but since there’s a Season 3 coming, I’m hoping they fix things and take the story in a better direction.
*Spoiler Ends*
In many interfaith relationships, I notice that the Hindu partner often gives in to the Abrahamic faith — if not through marriage, then through the children.
Take Usha Vance, for example. All three of her children were baptized because her husband couldn’t accept the kids growing up Hindu. That feels like a loss of her own identity. It shows that even an educated woman like her is not fully protected from this pressure.
If it were up to me, ideally, I would want the kids to grow up with both religions. But if we had to choose one religion for my “imaginary” children, I would fight hard to raise them in my own. Purely because Hinduism is naturally pluralistic, and it doesn’t invalidate any other faith. It would also matter to me because Hindus are a global minority, while the other religions face no existential crisis. It’s like the global majority religion being generous enough to make space for the growth of the minority.
Also, if I had to pick, I would choose a court marriage. But if the partner insists on a religious ceremony, then it would have to be a temple wedding. You don’t need to convert for that. You only need to respect the rituals. It’s simple, fair, and inclusive.
This is probably why I feel an interfaith marriage may not work for me. I believe in equality between religions, while an Abrahamic partner may not always see it the same way. There would be constant tension, and I am not the kind of Hindu who would compromise on my identity.
When I was younger, I probably would not have thought this way. Back then, love felt like everything. But growing older makes you see the bigger picture.
Pushback Against Conversions in India
More Hindus today realize that they don’t need to give up their beliefs for anything, which is why you see fewer people willing to convert.
Hindu Villagers in India Fighting Back Against Conversion
This awareness is slowly growing. I recently saw a post on Reddit where an Indian Christian said they felt sad that many Hindus in India are no longer open to conversion or to “the way of the Lord.” To me, this is actually a positive sign for the Hindu community. It shows that more people are choosing to stay firm in their identity.
And honestly, this should be true for every religion, because love and true secularism do not require anyone to change who they really are.
As someone who’s chronically online and keeps up with news from all kinds of sources, mainstream, regional, left, and right, I’ve noticed something important: Christians in Kerala don’t really have a go-to political party anymore.
For a long time, people assumed the Indian National Congress (INC) was the party in Kerala that understood what every community wanted. But that idea seems to be changing fast on the ground.
Communal Conflicts in Kerala: Who Supports Whom?
If you’re new to Kerala politics, here’s a simple way to understand how parties respond to communal issues here:
Hindu vs Minority: CPM and Congress usually back the minority community.
Upper Caste Hindu vs Lower Caste Hindu: CPM and Congress generally side with the lower caste.
Christian vs Muslim: CPM and Congress often stay neutral at first, saying things like “we’ll look into it,” but in the end, they tend to side with Muslims. Examples include the Munambam Waqf issue, Professor Joseph’s case, Sona Eldhose’s conversion, and incidents involving SDPI bullying, such as the hijab case at the Christian-run St Rita’s school in Kochi (details in the image below).
News Source: “Hijab controversy forces school in Kochi to close temporarily after parents’ protest” (Mathrubhumi.com)
If you look at any case in Kerala, the pattern more or less stays the same. I’m not sure about regional politics in other states, but I suspect it’s similar elsewhere.
While BJP clearly positions itself as a Hindu party, there’s a growing sense in Kerala that Congress and CPM lean pro-Muslim. Why? It’s not really about religion. It’s about vote-bank politics. Christians are a minority among minorities in Kerala, so pandering to them doesn’t win many votes and can even cost support from other minority groups.
Growth of Chrisanghis in Kerala
Now, in Kerala, there’s a growing group called “Chrisanghis,” a term left-leaning voices like Arundhati Roy have used. These are Christians who support the BJP. Arundhati recently warned Christians in Kerala not to become Chrisanghis, citing conversion attacks in the North as a concern.
So why do some Christians support the BJP? It’s because they view Islamist groups like SDPI and Jamaat-e-Islami as a bigger threat than BJP. Many point to the persecution of Christians in countries like Nigeria by Islamist groups and feel that, compared to such threats, the BJP’s Hindutva agenda poses a lesser danger. At the same time, parties like Congress and CPM often downplay or ignore the activities of these Islamist groups in India, mostly for political gain, leading some Christians to see BJP as a safer option.
News Source: “Congress in a fix as Jamaat arm readies to back theocratic state” (NewIndianExpress.com)
Notably, Jamaat-e-Islami has frequently been in the news, even recently, for persecuting minorities in Pakistan and Bangladesh. In India, its branch presents a secular image, likely to gain acceptance and influence within mainstream politics, using it as a pathway to gain power.
It’s also true that Kerala’s two mainstream parties have largely ignored such concerns from the Christian community. Their typical response is often, “Don’t fall for RSS/BJP propaganda,” even when the issues have nothing to do with RSS or BJP.
Thoughts
So what can the Christian population in India do in this situation? On one side, there’s a pro-Hindu or “Hindutva” party that will never fully accept conversions under “freedom of religion,” and on the other, there are parties that haven’t supported Christians when they faced threats from Islamist groups.
From my perspective, Christians should keep all parties guessing about where their votes will go. They shouldn’t strongly back any party, since none fully meets their needs. Take the Munambam Waqf issue, for example: the removal of Section 40 in the Waqf Bill allowed the Kerala High Court to rule the Waqf claim over Munambam land as illegal, protecting Christian landowners. Congress leaders like Hibi Eden tried to persuade residents to drop their case, saying nothing would come of it, while the only BJP MP from Kerala, Suresh Gopi, stood by the people, largely comprising Christian fisherfolk, and supported the amendment that ensured their land rights.
When missionaries face attacks by far-right Hindus in the North, that’s when Opposition parties step in. But in cases like the Chhattisgarh nuns’ arrests over alleged conversions, the local Congress in Chhattisgarh hardly protested, as taking a stand would have cost them votes. On the other hand, in Kerala, protesting the arrest of the nuns would have earned them support, which is why several Opposition leaders from Kerala traveled to Chhattisgarh to show solidarity.
This shows that Christians can’t rely fully on any party and should strategically make their political influence felt.
This is how politics works: there are no fixed principles for political parties. They act based on the local political context. Christians in India should remember this and avoid fully backing or rejecting any party. Instead, they can use this knowledge strategically and wisely, since different parties support them in different situations.
There’s so much I want to say about Being Hindu in Bangladesh, a book written by Avishek Biswas and Deep Halder, but I don’t think my words would do justice to my emotions. Whatever I write would be a watered-down version of what I felt while reading.
The authors are sons of refugees who once fled Bangladesh. They wrote this book during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, a time when they could safely visit Hindu areas and speak openly with locals, scholars, and researchers about the past.
It was a deeply uncomfortable read. Especially as I kept coming across recent posts from people in Bangladesh on Reddit, worried about the country slipping back into radicalism. It felt like history was repeating itself. On top of that, there were people, including the global and Indian left-leaning media, trying to downplay the communal angle in Bangladesh so as not to flare up Islamophobia. As an ex-leftist, this behaviour is all too familiar. I was once part of that ecosystem.
Despite being a Hindu, I could not acknowledge the persecution that Hindus faced in neighbouring regions. The data was there for everyone to witness, yet I was blind. I believe this is true for many Hindus. We are raised with strong secular values, which often makes it uncomfortable to openly acknowledge or speak about atrocities against our own community. Personally, it was difficult to break out of that mindset and accept the reality that Hindus did face genocide in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Kashmir. Adding to that is the consistent bias of left-leaning media, which often avoided reporting anti-Hindu communal incidents both in India and abroad. This selective activism played a key role in my decision to step away from the leftist ecosystem.
Sahidul’s narrative states: ‘The genocide orchestrated and masterminded by Pakistan, began on the night of March 25, 1971 … Three million were killed (in East Pakistan), 200,000 to 300,000 women were violated in the most diabolic ethnic cleansing since the days of the Holocaust. And these are just rough estimates. How much does the world or even the subcontinent talk about it?
Most Painful Part of the Book
The most aching part for me was the quiet optimism in the book. Written during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, the authors were hopeful about the secular path Bangladesh was taking. They welcomed the ban on JeI and the arrests of those involved in the Hindu genocide of 1971. I read those pages, and then Al Jazeera’s headline from a few days back: “Bangladesh Supreme Court lifts ban on Jamaat-e-Islami.” I feel a mixture of emotions.
The authors also appreciated the death sentence awarded to a Jamaat leader involved in the 1971 genocide of Hindus. That sentence, too, has now been overturned in current-day Bangladesh under Yunus’s rule. Makes you wonder – is justice so fickle?
Opposition to Bengali Because It Was Too “Hindu”
From the book, I learned that Pakistan was opposed to Bengali in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) because they considered the language “too Hindu” as opposed to Urdu. When East Pakistan demanded a new nation on the basis of Bengali culture, Pakistan thought Hindus were responsible for this “brainwashing”, which is what led to the genocide.
The Pakistani Army launched Operation Searchlight for complete cleansing of the Bengali and Hindu identity. Even the press secretary of the third president of Pakistan, Yahya Khan, said that this operation was to ‘brainwash the people, wean them off their Bengali mores and make them true Pakistanis … The Hindu influence must be eradicated root and branch and the people who were misguiding the innocent and illiterate masses must be liquidated.’
Tagore’s Home Vandalized in Bangladesh. News Source: NDTV
Truth be told, I was thinking while reading the book, how long would it take for the pro-Pakistan radicals in Bangladesh to go after anything related to Tagore, the Hindu writer of Bangladesh’s anthem “Amar Sonar Bangla” (My Golden Bengal), and then the vandalism of Tagore’s home happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if they replace the anthem, too, at some point in the future.
Jogendra Nath Mandal – The Dalit Leader Who Chose Pakistan
It’s from the book that I came across the name Jogendra Nath Mandal for the first time. He was a Dalit leader and a close associate of Dr. Ambedkar. At the time of Partition, Mandal chose to side with Pakistan, believing it would offer Dalits greater freedom and rights than a Hindu-majority India. He motivated many Dalits to migrate with him, promising an escape from caste oppression.
Mandal, the man who wanted Pakistan to become a land of Dalits and Muslims.
But what they found was a harsher reality. Regret followed soon after. Mandal eventually fled Pakistan and returned to India. Sadly, many Dalits who followed him to Pakistan lacked his privilege and means and were left behind. His popularity waned after that, and he died a lonely death in West Bengal. To quote the book:
Mandal had come to India from East Pakistan as a broken man. Arguably, the tallest Dalit politician in pre-partition East Bengal, Mandal had lost most of his followers after he chose Pakistan over India, stood with Muhammad Ali Jinnah and became the law and labour minister. Mandal had thought Dalits and Muslims would behave like brothers in the newly-created Pakistan. They didn’t, and as communal tension rose and Hindus left East Pakistan for India in large numbers, Jogendranath Mandal came to be looked at as a short-sighted leader at best and a self-serving politician at worst.
Dr. Ambedkar, upon learning about the persecution of Dalits in Pakistan, urged them to return to India. However, most were unable to leave, trapped by circumstances beyond their control.
I encourage everyone to read the following Reddit post that offers a more complete account of Jogendra Nath Mandal’s life. It includes his resignation letter to the Prime Minister of Pakistan and Dr. Ambedkar’s heartfelt appeal to Dalits living there.
Mandal’s story reminds us never to forget history or its lessons. These accounts were documented by key figures of that era for a reason. Not to be ignored, but to help us reflect, understand, learn, and avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future.
Quotable Quotes from Being Hindu in Bangladesh
‘Yes, only two people might have died in Noakhali in last year’s violence. But look around and you will find boys and men without an arm or a leg walking around. They will remind you of what was.’
What was it like in 1946? When freedom from 200 years of British rule was becoming a reality, Bengali-Hindu women and men, in village after village in Noakhali district of undivided Bengal, the same place where we now are, were r*ped and killed, or forcibly converted. Then too, it had started with fake news.
‘I have never been able to forget those days,’ she says, ‘when neighbours became rioters and friends became murderers. The stench of blood haunts me to this day.’
‘I remember he would come and tell us to make sure no one made any sound, and make sure that the children remained silent. It should appear from outside that the college building was deserted. Or else, a mob could come and kill us all. But my seven-month-old sister cried out in hunger. We gave her some treacle to make her stop crying, but she would start wailing soon after. My father told us that we had to kill her as she simply wouldn’t stop crying. And her wails would bring the mob to us. She cried and cried, till she cried no more.’
In other riots, religion was the point of disagreement. In Noakhali, religion was also the instrument that ended the disagreement. The attacks in Noakhali on Hindus by Muslims ended when the Hindus became Muslims.
‘But it’s a mistake that all democratic governments make in trying to control one set of extremists. They often play with the other set that looks less worse than the other (but) in the course of time, they all become Frankensteins’ he said.
There’s something about discovering forgotten buildings where powerful men once lived, touring villages where they spent their boyhood. It is like sifting through dog-eared, yellowed pages of history. So much of what once was still hangs in the air. So many stories are kept alive by village elders who saw history take shape.
Conclusion
The book details several atrocities that are too graphic to include in this blog post. I strongly encourage everyone to read Being Hindu in Bangladesh for a clearer and unbiased understanding of the condition of Hindus in the country.
The following snippet is from a DEI study by the Network Contagion Research Institute (NCRI) in the U.S. The diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) program, originally meant to raise awareness, appears to have backfired in some areas. By framing everything through an “oppressor vs. oppressed” lens, it has ended up vilifying the Hindu Brahmin community, similar to the Jewish community.
While DEI narratives often focus on Islamophobia and racial discrimination, caste-based bias among American Hindus has largely remained outside the spotlight. Though widely recognized in India, caste discrimination has only recently started gaining attention in the U.S., leading to the introduction of caste-sensitivity training in schools, workplaces, and policy discussions. But did they have the desired effect? Studies show otherwise.
The vilification of Brahmins began in India, where they are often targeted for everything, from their dietary habits to their lifestyle choices. What should have remained a focused activism against caste discrimination has unfortunately expanded into a broader mockery of the community as a whole. Even Brahmins who reject caste-based thinking are not spared.
Like anyone else, a Brahmin does not choose the caste they are born into. So, isn’t attacking them solely for their birth also a form of casteism? Every community should be open to critique for its flaws, but no one should be dehumanized for simply existing.
Awareness is important, but this study shows that excessive activism can cross a line and end up vilifying an entire community. In the findings, respondents described Brahmins as “parasites,” “viruses,” and “the devil personified.” How is that fair, or even acceptable, in the name of social justice?
The Monkey Dilemma 
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