Whatever the constitution may claim, Narendra Modi’s India is, in practice, a Hindu state.

Under Modi’s leadership, Muslims in India have increasingly become second-class citizens. In this landscape, if you are a “good Muslim,” perhaps the harassment will be somewhat lessened. But if you do not conform, your suffering is likely to be amplified.

Over the past decade, India has gradually evolved into the Israel of South Asia — a place where Muslims are cast as "the other," seen as enemies of progress and traitors to the nation.

This narrative, once relegated to the fringe, now enjoys widespread support across Indian society, including from those who would otherwise be considered progressive.

Islamophobia has gained an unprecedented level of social consent, and the ongoing genocide in Palestine serves as a stark parallel, revealing how closely aligned the Hindu-nationalist state of India is to the Zionist policies of Israel.

This shift is not an anomaly. Those who dare to oppose this vision of India are doing so at great personal risk. They understand that the odds of winning this battle are slim, but they also understand that remaining silent is no longer an option.

History is full of figures who, like Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar advocating for widow remarriage, stood alone against the prevailing tide of public opinion.

Those who today oppose Indian imperialism and speak out against the aggressive rise of Hindutva are in the minority, much like Gauri Lankesh and Kalburgi. Yet, in the larger context of history, they are on the right side of the struggle.

They are willing to take risks, knowing the stakes could not be higher.

Recent events during the Holi festival across India underscore the growing dominance of the Hindu majority. In Uttar Pradesh’s Unnao, a 48-year-old Muslim man, Mohammad Sharif, was allegedly beaten to death by a mob for the “crime” of refusing to participate in the color celebrations of Holi.

His family claims it was a lynching, but the police have dismissed it, attributing his death to a cardiac arrest. In a further act of humiliation, mosques across the region were covered to prevent the majority from being “disturbed” by the presence of places of worship.

The message could not have been clearer: Muslims must accept their place, live as second-class citizens, and keep their heads bowed.

A chronicle of fear

Such scenes are emblematic of a larger, deeply troubling shift in India’s social fabric. The ideological project of a Hindu state is not confined to isolated incidents.

It is systemic, part of an orchestrated effort to reshape Indian society in ways that marginalize Muslims, and other minorities, and ensure their subjugation. This transformation is not just political — it is cultural, deeply embedded in the everyday life of India’s citizens.

And yet, even in the face of this harsh reality, there remains hope. A growing number of individuals are speaking out against the country’s drift toward authoritarianism, risking their safety and their lives to stand against the tide.

But the road ahead is fraught with danger. The question now is whether India can regain its moral compass and return to its secular ideals before it is too late. The fight for India’s soul is far from over, but the stakes could not be higher.

We have to understand that it did not begin with a single, cataclysmic event. Rather, it seeped into the fabric of our society, a gradual, insidious decay. Mohammad Akhlaq's brutal death in 2015 Dadri lynching, the horrifying murder of Mohammad Afrajul in Rajasthan on allegation of Love Jihad, the loss of son of Asansol’s Maulana Imdadul Rashidi's, and Jamal Momin's ordeal on a crowded train – these are not isolated incidents, but chilling markers on a timeline of escalating fear.

The saffron flag, once a symbol of spiritual devotion, now flies atop desecrated mosques, a stark emblem of dominance. The "small-scale riots," as they're often dismissed, are calculated exercises in terror, designed to instill a pervasive sense of vulnerability.

It is a relentless, whispered campaign: "You are second-class. You are less than human. Endure the slaps, the humiliation, or leave."

For too long, the resistance has been muted, a whimper rather than a roar. Where are the human shields, the lines drawn in the sand, the unwavering defense of our shared humanity?

In other nations, citizens have stood between the sacred and the profane, a testament to the enduring power of solidarity. Yet, here, the silence is deafening.

The fact is, the insidious nature of fascism lies in its conquest of the mind. As the great thinkers warned, it festers in the fertile ground of conquered consciousness, where hatred takes root and flourishes.

BJP’s Suvendu Adhikari's chilling pronouncement – the threat of expelling Muslim legislators – is not an aberration. It is a stark reminder of the historical patterns of oppression, echoing the experiences of Ofer Cassif in Israel and the horrific fate of a Muslim legislator during the Gujarat genocide.

The burden of 'harmony' in India’s divided landscape

These are not new tactics. They are the age-old tools of dehumanization, wielded to strip away dignity, to erode the very essence of personhood. The question we must confront is not whether we will witness such horrors again, but whether we will finally find the courage to say, "No more."

When I was younger — a 'young journalist' — I often wrote about "communal harmony." I searched for stories of Muslims participating in Hindu festivals or Durga Puja being celebrated in mosque courtyards.

I sought these stories out with enthusiasm, believing they reflected a hopeful, united India. But now, I no longer have the time, nor the inclination. It feels forced, like an artificial image painted for the sake of appearing harmonious.

Amid this change in perspective, I recently read a remarkable article in Outlook, written by Lubna Jerar Naqvi. It told the story of Hindu-Muslim unity in Pakistan. She wrote about the Maheshwari community in Karachi, who organize Iftar during Ramadan, and the Governor of Sindh, who extended Holi greetings during a grand Iftar.

She described the Chandio family in the Kubi area, who have been safeguarding a temple for five decades. She also recounted the attack on the Sacho Satram Das Temple in Ghotki by the "Tawhidi Janata," where local Muslims bravely stood as shields to protect the temple.

I found myself enjoying the article, but it also left me with a nagging question: why is it always the minorities who are expected to bear the responsibility for maintaining communal harmony?

Why must Muslims in India constantly prove that they are not supporters of Pakistan? This is especially poignant in a country where mosques are covered up to avoid "disturbing" the majority during Holi.

In truth, it is India’s so-called secularism that is veiled, hidden beneath a layer of selective tolerance. In a nation where television channels can turn an entire community into criminals on their evening news broadcasts, what hope do minorities have for genuine equality?

Recently, Suvendu Adhikari remarked that he didn’t need the votes of Muslims. Good. That sentiment echoes that of former Sri Lankan president Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who once claimed he didn’t need the votes of Tamils either.

But a few days after saying that, Rajapaksa was forced to flee the country, as the people of Sri Lanka stormed his palace, turning it into a symbol of their uprising.

So, who knows what the future holds? Change can come suddenly and unpredictably. Until then, let peace reign in Shanti Kunj.

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Arka Bhaduri is a Kolkata based journalist, researcher, explorer and storyteller.