Communal violence has long been a tragic aspect of Indian politics. It forms the foundation of communal politics, whose aim is to divide society along religious lines. The British sowed the seeds of this hatred through their “divide and rule” policy, beginning with presenting history from a communal perspective. The growth of communal politics was encouraged by two parallel yet opposite streams: on one side, the Muslim League, and on the other, the Hindu Mahasabha and the RSS. This laid the foundation for communal violence, which kept intensifying. To deepen hatred toward the other community, distorted history was combined with emotional issues, leading to an escalation of violence that ultimately culminated in Partition.
Even after Partition’s tragedy, the tendency of “hating the other” kept resurfacing. The nature of pre-Partition violence was different, with both communities equally involved. But after Partition, the scene changed. Most communal elements among Muslims had gone to Pakistan, and communal violence increasingly took the shape of anti-Muslim violence. Gradually, hatred toward Muslims deepened and took strong root in wider social thinking.
RSS shakhas (branches) spread hatred through stories of great Hindu kings versus wicked Muslim kings, which were further amplified through schools and media. The misuse of media grew especially after 1977, when Information and Broadcasting Minister L.K. Advani enabled the infiltration of large numbers of people with communal mindsets into news agencies. Later, when Modi became Gujarat’s Chief Minister, his business allies began acquiring major media outlets. Social media and the BJP IT cell completed the picture.
The stream of hateful talk against Muslims, and later against Christians, began at the very top—Prime Minister level—and was copied at lower levels. This firmly embedded itself in social consciousness. Modi cleverly coined hateful slogans such as “They (Muslims) have many wives and children” or “They can be recognized by their clothes,” along with references to cremation grounds and graveyards. These and other slogans became propaganda tools, and social media turned them into ammunition.
Through devious strategies, the campaign was expanded, resulting in worsening conditions. Hatred against minorities grows with each passing day. New terms are coined, and even calls for Hindus to arm themselves are being made.
Swati Chaturvedi’s book I Was a Troll sheds light on how hate is manufactured and spread. She takes us inside the IT cell, showing how young people are hired to spread hatred through social media.
Kunal Purohit’s The Hindi Pop opens our eyes further. Based on deep investigation, he found that many popular pop songs carry communal content at their core. With attractive music, these songs become popular, embedding hate in popular culture. Analyzing leading singers’ performances, Purohit reveals the BJP’s links with them and the role of music, poetry, and influencer culture in fueling violence. He shows how Bollywood films, too, promote Hindutva; how ruling party leaders openly deliver hate speeches; and how textbooks present Hindutva versions of history as fact.
Pooja Prasanna (News Minute), in her video Communal Colour from Kerala Right Wing to Hindutva Pop, based on a colleague’s research, explains how in Kerala, several late-night Hindu chatrooms (active after 11:30 p.m.) call upon Hindus to keep weapons and stay in touch with local RSS branches for protection from Muslims, portrayed as threats and ticking time bombs. References are made to the derogatory “Bulli Bai” and “Sulli Bai” episodes, when Muslim women were humiliated by being “auctioned” online.
Meanwhile, Bollywood has been flooded with films like The Kashmir Files, The Kerala Story, and The Bengal Files. It is relevant that both RSS chief Mohan Bhagwat and Prime Minister Modi recommended The Kashmir Files.
In widely publicized lectures at Vigyan Bhawan in August 2025, Bhagwat deceptively sugar-coated his divisive agenda, saying: “A Hindu is one who believes in walking his own path without demeaning or insulting the faiths of others. Whoever follows this tradition and culture is a Hindu.” Yet, while he said this, intolerance and hatred toward Muslims were spreading at full speed.
What is happening in Assam reflects the same. Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma is engaged in disenfranchising and persecuting Bengali-speaking Muslims, while Bhagwat looks away—likely pleased to see his Hindu Rashtra agenda advance. As Harsh Mander wrote in Scroll, Sarma even said: “I urge Assamese people to take inspiration from Israel. Surrounded by Muslim fundamentalists in the Middle East, with Iran and Iraq as neighbors, this small Israeli population has become impregnable.” In West Bengal, BJP leader Suvendu Adhikari openly insisted that the slogan “Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikas” (development for all) should be abandoned.
In this climate, where Sarma portrays Bengali-origin Assamese Muslims as dangerous “others,” “infiltrators,” and enemies of the state’s rightful people, the direction we are heading is deeply troubling. This marks a major shift—where a nationalist movement has transformed into a hate-driven communal movement, targeting specifically Bengali-origin Muslims. Sarma even instructed foreign tribunals to end all cases against Hindu Bangladeshis who came to Assam in 2014 or earlier, while continuing only against Muslims.
Now that BJP’s grip on power has tightened in every possible way, leaders like Sarma and Suvendu Adhikari have grown bolder, their words increasingly hateful and aggressive. At the same time, Bhagwat sugarcoats his central agenda to make it sound benign, while Modi continues to deliver the most divisive statements. The crop of hatred sown by the RSS is now in full bloom, with ever-new strategies being devised to help it flourish further.
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The author earlier taught at IIT Mumbai and is President of the Centre for Study of Society and Secularism
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