For religious minorities in India, the roar of the bulldozer has become an ominous soundtrack to their daily lives. Ever since the saffron-led government came to power, these communities have voiced mounting concerns over what they perceive as systematic political action and discrimination. Across the nation, mosques, mazars, dargahs, madrasas, and various other Muslim religious properties have increasingly featured in high-profile demolition, eviction, and anti-encroachment drives conducted by municipal, state, and central agencies.
A comprehensive investigation by Millat Times recently attempted to document the true scale of these administrative actions between 2020 and 2026. Its extensive dataset identifies at least 2,166 reported instances, physical structures, or aggregate figures involving Muslim religious and community sites. However, this headline number requires careful, intellectual honesty: it does not signify that 2,166 individually verified mosques have been completely razed. The compiled data blends singular court-ordered actions, partial removals, land evictions, and broad government-reported figures, inevitably leading to potential overlaps. Millat Times itself explicitly cautions that the aggregate total should not be viewed as a definitive tally of 2,166 separate, verified demolitions.
Yet, even with this necessary analytical qualification, the sheer volume of the data forces us to confront an essential constitutional question: are municipal laws regarding encroachment and unauthorized construction being enforced consistently, transparently, and with genuine due process when the properties in question belong to Muslim religious communities?
This administrative pattern is geographically vast, with reported demolition drives spanning multiple states, including Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Gujarat, Delhi, Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Telangana, and Assam. A wide variety of state instruments are involved, ranging from local municipal corporations to state forest departments. Officially, administrative agencies frame these actions in purely technical or statutory terms: clearing illegal encroachments on government land, addressing unauthorized construction, expanding highways, or enforcing zoning regulations.
These legal justifications cannot be casually dismissed, as religious structures of all faiths are legally subject to municipal and environmental regulations. The central dispute, therefore, is rarely about whether an illegal structure can ever be cleared; rather, it centers on whether state bodies provide fair advance notice, grant affected parties an opportunity to appeal, verify land ownership transparently, and apply identical statutory standards to comparable non-Muslim properties.
A substantial portion of the figures in the Millat Times report originates directly from government disclosures, highlighting the scale of state action. In Uttarakhand, official reports noted the clearing of hundreds of mazars situated on reserved forest lands, with government totals eventually reaching 538 state-removed structures.
Gujarat presents a similar pattern, with the state government informing the Legislative Assembly in early 2024 that over a hundred mazars had been demolished during anti-encroachment operations, followed by the removal of several mosques and shrines in Gir Somnath.
In these instances, state authorities argued the structures were illegally situated on government land, while Muslim petitioners disputed these claims, contending that several sites were protected Waqf properties or historical places of worship. While the Supreme Court declined an immediate stay on some of these demolitions, it warned that any violation of court guidelines could result in mandatory restoration orders, underscoring the necessity of evaluating each case on its distinct legal facts.
The friction between state authority and due process is perhaps most visible when we look at the human and legal costs of these drives. In Delhi, the demolition of the centuries-old Akhoundji Masjid and adjacent madrasa in Mehrauli turned into a major legal conflict, prompting the Delhi High Court to demand proof of whether proper advance notice had been served.
Similarly, in Haldwani, the demolition of a local mosque and madrasa triggered severe communal clashes resulting in fatalities. Regardless of the final legal determination over land titles in Haldwani, the tragedy underscored a critical reality: demolishing a place of worship carries societal consequences far beyond the destruction of bricks and mortar, deeply affecting a community's historical identity and social fabric.
This trajectory has continued unabated into late 2026, highlighted by notable events in Saharanpur and Ujjain. In September, authorities in Saharanpur demolished a mosque inside the Collectorate campus after a district court dismissed an appeal against a prior eviction order, though the mosque's custodian questioned whether statutory waiting periods had elapsed.
During the same month, authorities in Ujjain removed a portion of the historic Shahi Masjid for a road-widening project linked to the 2028 Simhastha Kumbh. The Madhya Pradesh High Court upheld this partial removal, noting the infrastructure plan affected multiple religious structures, including Hindu temples.
These recent cases illustrate why sweeping assumptions must be avoided; the Saharanpur dispute revolved around government land title and eviction procedures, whereas the Ujjain case concerned court-sanctioned infrastructure development applied across communities.
Recognizing the growing public outcry over this arbitrary "bulldozer justice," the Supreme Court of India issued a landmark ruling in November 2024. The Court firmly established that executive authorities cannot demolish a citizen's property simply because they are accused of a crime, mandating strict procedural safeguards and warning of personal liability for officials who engage in extrajudicial demolitions.
Yet, as international human rights organizations have pointed out, the reality on the ground often tells a different story. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have documented multiple instances where state agencies systematically targeted Muslim properties while disregarding statutory notice requirements, framing extrajudicial punitive actions as routine anti-encroachment measures. Despite these interventions and judicial warnings, the selective targeting of Muslim religious sites has seemingly become the new normal, with little indication that this reality will change anytime soon.
These property disputes do not occur in a vacuum; they unfold within a broader social atmosphere marked by heightened minority anxiety. A comprehensive Pew Research Center survey revealed that a significant portion of Muslim respondents reported experiencing religious discrimination, a figure that rose sharply among Muslims living in northern Indian states.
Furthermore, a majority of both Hindu and Muslim respondents viewed communal violence as a critical national problem. While these survey metrics predate the most recent 2024–2026 demolition drives, they provide vital sociological context regarding minority perceptions of systemic inequality and state bias.
Ultimately, proving that these demolitions stem from a centralized, anti-Muslim state policy requires rigorous legal evidence rather than mere case tallies. Official records demonstrate that while thousands of minority religious properties have been impacted by state action, official justifications remain grounded in municipal codes and urban development needs.
At the same time, the fundamental protections outlined in India's Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, make the protection of religious sites a constitutional imperative rather than a purely political debate. The 2,166 figure compiled by Millat Times should neither be dismissed as administrative routine nor sensationalized as proof of 2,166 illegal demolitions. It stands as a significant record of administrative actions that warrants objective, transparent scrutiny.
The ultimate standard remains straightforward: when a bulldozer arrives at a mosque, mazar, dargah, or madrasa, are state authorities applying the exact same legal procedures, advance notices, and constitutional safeguards that would be granted to any other community? That is the sole benchmark by which the rule of law must be measured.
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Mohd Ziyaullah Khan is a freelance content writer and editor based in Nagpur. He is also an activist and social entrepreneur, co-founder of the group TruthScape, a team of digital activists fighting disinformation on social media
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