I'm a hijabi, married, and have recently completed my post-graduation in Theatre Arts at a central university. Having said that, I wish to divert the discussion from the historical struggles endured by individuals and communities that have shaped these ‘Agraharas’—for someone of my societal positioning to declare the aforementioned statement as my identity. This shift in thought arises from the recognition that it is beyond my capacity to quantify the efforts of those predecessors who, with their sweat, soul, and even blood, cultivated this terrain for our existence.
Simultaneously, it comes from acknowledging the equal significance of repeatedly speaking about the nuanced mechanisms of Hindutva. Thus, I reorient the focus towards the Hindu body, aiming to articulate the Muslim body’s resilient struggle against it, once again emphasizing the depths of the challenges our seniors faced in establishing this space for us.
Amidst the diverse challenges faced daily on campus, I choose to spotlight one particular aspect—the presence of an RSS woman within our shared space. This shift in perspective stems not only from a desire to move beyond being a perpetual subject but also from an incident at Hyderabad Central University, where a mob, including women members, attempted to attack a fellow male student over a quarrel concerning a poster.
As always, the unequal groups with opposite motivations were reduced to two violent, equal bodies. In reality, we were defending ourselves from the attack when the security personnel told us something revealing. Quoting his words: “We understand what you are saying, but this is an uncontrolled/unknown mob, so please keep yourself safe by not provoking them again” (from a personal conversation; audio was not recorded).
The implementation of the Central University Entrance Test (CUET) and similar mechanisms aimed at fostering Sangh Parivar allies and networks on Indian campuses has yielded unintended consequences. Having completed my undergraduate studies at Delhi University and being a living example of an Indian Muslim, I am acutely aware of the sudden formation of mobs targeting Muslim bodies.
However, hailing from a South Indian state, my everyday experience is not yet there—at least not in its overt manifestations. What caught my attention was the participation of female students in the mob, challenging the notion that it was a spontaneous and uncoordinated gathering.
This isn’t the first instance where I’ve personally observed women in a mob; a similar occurrence took place during the JNU attack in 2020. The anonymity of the mob assaulting students dissolved when it was revealed that a girl in the mob was a DU student affiliated with the ABVP. As someone who could identify her—even with a muffler covering her face—recalling the image of a woman in a DU mob during the anti-CAA protests made the identification easier. An apparently unplanned mob thus exposes itself as a deliberate effort.
The inclusion of women in such gatherings is not merely a conscious choice but imparts a deliberate quality to the entire act. The question of their motives can be explored later, but the crucial point is that the presence of Hindu women disrupts the narrative of Indian Hindu mobs, which often presents itself as spontaneous and reactionary. Female involvement appears irregular and challenges the attempt to depict these mobs as unplanned eruptions. The introduction of women undermines the conviction behind portraying these gatherings as chaotic and tumultuous.
Occurrence and recurrence
The organization of collective violence in India has a historical precedent, and Hindutva forces now openly acknowledge their involvement. The recurring participation of women in such mobs raises concerns—not only due to its frequency but also because of the secular pressure on women from minority groups to empathize with women across communities, forcing them to forget this “Sevika” part of her. It is possible to erase the hatefulness of the Hindu woman in liberal spaces, as at the end of the day, it is the same pure “Mother India” they also belong to. But for us, finding sisterhood toward a female assailant becomes a complex challenge.
What is more troubling is the coercion within liberal secular spaces, which consider attributing passivity to women as patriarchal, yet do not find it problematic to tell Muslim women to join aggressive RSS women in the name of sorority. The RSS presents Hindu women in idealized terms while depicting Muslim men as perpetual adversaries of the Hindu community, framing them as either foreign invaders or ex-Hindu converts.
Muslim women, according to the RSS narrative, are portrayed as reproductive organs for the enemies of Hindus, adding a divisive layer to communal dynamics. How can one think of gender across communities when these very ideologies shape the foundations of their gender notions?
The role of RSS women as ideologues is often overlooked, and exploring the internal motivations of women participating in a movement that positions them as subordinate is crucial. The RSS reinforces the narrative of the rape of Hindu women by members of other religions, framing the “Muslim as Other” and as a threat to Hindu women. This narrative strategically places women within Hindu nationalism by perpetuating the “our-women-in-danger” founding myth—a narrative observed in various state nationalisms globally.
Another aspect of this history that has remained hidden until recently relates to the violence carried out on women by men of their own families and communities. In several Hindu and Sikh families, men killed—what they termed “martyred”—women of their own community, ostensibly to save them from dishonor and prevent bringing shame to the community through violation of their bodies by men of the other religion. However, reducing hate to mere fear is a misleading simplification in the context of India—whether it’s the Islamophobia propagated by men or women.
Feminist scholars have diverse perspectives on right-wing women, viewing them as victims of right-wing men, as living in false consciousness, adhering to ideas ingrained in their social milieu, converting later to the right, or as conscious, calculating political agents actively choosing right-wing ideology.
I find it challenging to fully grasp this and am troubled by the contradiction present in feminist scholarship that reduces women’s agency. I’m confused about why it seems difficult for these scholars to imagine the capacity of Hindutva women to initiate hate propagation. Contrarily, historical evidence suggests that the karyavahinis’ actions prove otherwise.
Taking a few examples—during the 1990s, the women’s wing of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, the Rashtriya Swayamsevika Samiti, made a deliberate choice for women to actively participate in the attacks on the Babri Masjid, invoking the icon of the eight-armed Durga and reciting mantras that framed their actions as a literal call to war in service of the nation. They described this as a “civil war” against the enemies within.
This inclination towards violence, destruction, and retribution against Muslims and Christians appears even more pronounced today. Ironically and tragically, the driving force behind the frenzied mob that demolished the masjid through highly charged chanting was a woman—Sadhvi Rithambara.
Examining the Bhagalpur, Bihar riot, it was revealed that women from the attacking community not only supported their men in destructive acts but also prevented others from assisting victims, particularly women and children. These instances underscore a disturbing trend of violence, with more examples echoing a fervent call for hostility and division.
My point is that to hate is indeed a choice. To illustrate, let’s consider the example of the hijab. Personally, I believe that wearing the hijab isn’t a choice in Islam, but choosing to be a Muslim who wears it is a choice. Similarly, the argument that Hindu nationalism, crafted by men, could appeal to women holds merit, and I don’t dismiss it. However, reducing women to mere puppets falls short, as the extent of hate produced and propagated by the Hindutva population toward other communities suggests that individuals must have the capacity for such actions.
Liberals must reconsider characterizing women as lacking this capacity. It is, indeed, a choice—and one that requires significant effort. The language of hate was systematically developed, and I don’t believe RSS women are less human in their ability to think, but perhaps constrained in their capacity to love, making them more aligned with Hindutva.
References:
Gender in the Hindu Nation: RSS Women as Ideologues by Paola Bacchetta
Women and Right-wing Movements: Indian Experiences by Tanika Sarkar and Urvashi Butalia
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*Post-graduate in Theatre Arts from the University of Hyderabad
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