Introducing An Era When Rage Eclipses Reason!

In early October 2025, the highest court in India was conducting what should have been an ordinary hearing when sudden commotion erupted. A man dressed in a lawyer’s robe stood up in the Supreme Court and, to the shock of those present, hurled an object toward Chief Justice of India B. R. Gavai. The projectile described variously as a shoe or a rolled paper missed its mark, but it carried something more toxic than leather: an ideology.

As guards escorted the man out, he yelled, “Sanatan dharm ka apman nahi sahega Hindustan”, India will not tolerate an insult to Sanatan Dharma. The phrase echoed around the courtroom, a warning signal from a segment of Indian society that now equates religious identity with the license to intimidate.

Is the target of this ire was Justice Gavai, one of the first Dalit judges to preside over India’s highest judicial body and a jurist who had recently stated that India’s legal system is governed by the rule of law, not by the rule of the bulldozer? His remarks, delivered in response to petitions challenging extrajudicial demolitions, infuriated self‑styled defenders of Hinduism.

Their attempt to publicly humiliate him raises unsettling questions: is a scholar’s insight now less sacred than the idol he refuses to reinstall? Can a judge from a marginalised community freely speak against state violence without being labelled an enemy of Sanatan? These questions form the leitmotif of an alarming trend in India: the rise of a pseudo‑Sanatani right wing that weaponises faith to attack the very institutions that guard the country’s constitutional ethos.

Over the last decade, the boundaries of Hindu identity have been manipulated by groups that claim to defend Sanatan Dharma while simultaneously trampling on its core values of compassion, tolerance and humility. From moral policing in the streets to lynch mobs in villages, from threats to artists to attacks on judges, the self‑appointed custodians of culture have increasingly blurred the line between devotion and domination.

This article will trace a series of such incidents, drawing on verified reports from reputable publications. It will examine how these violent acts, often wrapped in religious sloganeering, erode the pluralistic fabric of India, humiliate marginalised groups and undermine the rule of law. It will also interrogate whether the fundamental ideals of Hinduism are being hijacked by a political project that seeks power through fear. The inquiry is not a denunciation of Hinduism; it is an appeal to salvage its humanistic essence from those who parade its name in pursuit of intolerance.

A shoe thrown at justice: the attack on CJI B. R. Gavai

During a hearing on 8 October 2025, an advocate attempted to hurl a shoe at Chief Justice of India B. R. Gavai in the Supreme Court. The protester shouted the slogan “Sanatan Dharam ka apmaan nahi sahega Hindustan” and was quickly escorted out by security personnel. According to witnesses, the courtroom was briefly disrupted but proceedings soon resumed, with Justice Gavai calmly instructing his colleagues and lawyers not to be distracted. The attempted assault was reportedly prompted by the judge’s earlier remarks in which he dismissed a plea to reconstruct a Lord Vishnu idol, deeming the petition “publicity interest litigation” and telling the petitioner to “go and ask the deity himself to do something”.

These remarks were interpreted by right‑wing activists as an insult to their faith, despite the fact that Justice Gavai’s bench clarified that the Archaeological Survey of India, not the court, had jurisdiction over the ancient temple’s preservation. A lawyer associated with a fringe group decided that the appropriate response was not legal argument but physical intimidation. The man’s sloganeering about Sanatan Dharma masked another subtext which can also be seen as an attack on a Dalit judge whose mere presence on the bench challenges entrenched caste hierarchies. While the assailant insisted that he was defending “tradition,” his act embodied a rejection of scholarship and jurisprudence – the very intellectual achievements that Sanatan’s sages once revered.

The deeper symbolism

This confrontation is not an isolated outburst; it is symptomatic of a broader climate in which dissent or even judicial restraint is branded “anti‑Hindu.” Justice Gavai’s emphasis that India is governed by the rule of law rather than bulldozer justice directly challenges the spectacle of state bulldozers razing homes in the name of crime control. Many of those demolitions have targeted Muslim and Dalit neighbourhoods, often without due process. By opposing such practices, the chief justice became a lightning rod for those who view legal restraint as a betrayal of majoritarian anger.

So, if we say that the shoe thrown at him was thus a symbolic bulldozer hurled at the gates of the judiciary or an attempt to intimidate the institution into silence, perhaps it would not be wrong!

The underlying caste dynamics cannot be ignored. Justice Gavai hails from a Scheduled Caste, and his ascent to the highest court represents a crack in centuries of Brahminical monopoly over legal scholarship. We ask, would a similar attack of shoe throwing have occurred if a member of the upper caste had uttered the same remarks? The pseudo‑Sanatani right routinely claims to uphold Hindu unity yet remains steeped in caste prejudices that sanction violence against Dalits.

The physical act of flinging a shoe at a Dalit judge evokes centuries of untouchability, when Dalits were forced to carry pots around their necks to collect their saliva lest they “pollute” upper castes. The modern Brahmastra is no longer the pot but the shoe, thrown at a man whose mind has ascended to the supreme bench but whose caste status still invites contempt.

Bulldozer justice versus rule of law

The context of bulldozer politics

The shoe‑throwing incident must be read against the backdrop of “bulldozer politics,” a populist practice in which state governments deploy bulldozers to demolish properties of accused criminals or protestors without court orders. Critics argue that these demolitions amount to collective punishment and disproportionately target minorities. Chief Justice Gavai, speaking at an event earlier in 2025, asserted that India is “governed by the rule of law, not by the rule of the bulldozer,” drawing upon the Constitution’s guarantee of due process. His remarks were an implicit rebuke of state governments that circumvent judicial procedures to gratify majoritarian demands for retribution.

In the pseudo‑Sanatani narrative, however, the bulldozer has become a symbol of masculine Hindu resurgence. Right‑wing influencers celebrate demolition videos as acts of “justice,” using hashtags like #BulldozerBaba and #RazaTheRogue. Anyone who questions these spectacles is labelled anti‑Hindu or accused of siding with criminals. Justice Gavai’s stance thus threatened not only a lucrative political spectacle but also a core component of the right‑wing’s performative identity. The shoe thrown at him was not about an idol in Khajuraho; it was about safeguarding the imaginary right to demolish homes without trial. It was an effort to silence a jurist who dared to remind citizens that the Constitution, not religious fury, is the ultimate authority.

The perils of performative piety

The incident reveals how performative piety weaponises symbols to deflect from substantive issues. Instead of engaging with Justice Gavai’s legal reasoning, pseudo‑Sanatani influencers circulated doctored clips of his comments to incite outrage. Social media accounts with saffron flags in their bios declared that “Sanatan Dharma is under attack” and posted violent memes targeting the judge. In this echo chamber, faith is reduced to a badge worn to justify harassment. The seriousness of judicial deliberation is replaced by theatrics reminiscent of a wrestling match, which is nothing but the rhetorical equivalent of a bulldozer smashing nuance.

However, the rule of law has historically been a pillar of Hindu philosophy. Ancient texts such as the Manusmriti and Mahabharata emphasise the king’s duty to uphold dharma (righteousness) through fair adjudication. The Upanishads exhort seekers to question and debate, not to hurl insults. By attacking a judge for performing his constitutional duty, the pseudo‑Sanatanis not only betray the Constitution but also the very textual traditions they claim to defend. Their reaction illustrates how far the current wave of “Hindutva” politics has strayed from genuine Sanatan Dharma, reducing a rich philosophical system to a pretext for mob rule.

Violence in the name of culture: disrupting a beauty pageant

The Rishikesh episode

In early October 2025, a modelling rehearsal for the Miss Rishikesh pageant at a hotel in the pilgrimage town of Rishikesh turned chaotic when members of the Rashtriya Hindu Shakti Sangathan, a self‑styled right‑wing group, stormed the venue and demanded that the event be stopped. The group’s state president, Raghavendra Bhatnagar, insisted that the contestants’ western attire was “against Sanatan Dharma” and inappropriate for a city known for its temples. A video of the encounter, cited by Mathrubhumi News, shows activists filming the contestants, shouting slogans and trying to shame them for wearing short dresses. One model is heard retorting, “Culture cannot be defined through clothes,” while organisers argued that the pageant had parental consent.

The group’s intrusion reflects a pattern of moral policing under the guise of cultural preservation. In the pseudo‑Sanatani worldview, a woman walking a ramp in a sleeveless dress becomes a greater threat to society than government corruption or poverty. Men who may never have cleaned a temple floor suddenly emerge as guardians of sanctity when women exercise autonomy. Their obsession with controlling female bodies reveals deep patriarchal anxieties masquerading as religious duty. The group’s own description, to protest “against the increasing evils in the Hindu society” and to arrange marriages for poor Hindu girls underscores its belief that women exist primarily within a marital frame.

Moral policing as a diversion

While activists were busy filming contestants and dictating hemlines, India was grappling with far more urgent challenges: soaring unemployment, school closures due to floods, and a climate crisis threatening the Himalayan region. Yet, right‑wing networks spent days circulating clips of the Rishikesh incident, admonishing women for “destroying our culture.”

The pseudo‑Sanatani narrative intentionally conflates sanskriti (culture) with sartorial conservatism, obscuring the truth that Indian culture has always been syncretic. Ancient sculptures depict gods and goddesses in minimal attire performing cosmic dances; classical texts celebrate female empowerment. To reduce culture to cloth is to insult the very traditions the so‑called guardians claim to uphold. It also diverts attention from real issues such as caste discrimination and gender violence, which these groups seldom protest.

The Padmaavat protests: mass hysteria and misogyny

The fury of cultural vigilantes was on full display during the protests against Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s 2018 film Padmaavat (initially titled Padmavati). According to a report by The Washington Post, right‑wing groups associated with the Rajput Karni Sena forced authorities to close the Padmavati fort in Chittorgarh, blocked highways, torched shopping malls and burned effigies of the acclaimed director.

Video footage broadcast on Indian news channels showed protesters pelting a school bus with stones; terrified children cried as the bus windows shattered. Women activists threatened mass self‑immolation if the film was released, and state governments capitulated by delaying screenings. Even after the Supreme Court cleared the movie, theatres in several cities refused to screen it out of fear of violence.

The ostensible grievance was that the film might depict a romance between the Rajput queen Padmavati and the invading Sultan Alauddin Khilji, a fictitious plotline to begin with. However, the ferocity of the protests revealed deeper anxieties. An imagined violation of a pativrata (chaste wife) triggered far more outrage than real violations of women’s rights happening across India.

The pseudo‑Sanatanis who decried the film as an insult to Hindu honour simultaneously threatened to physically harm the film’s lead actress, Deepika Padukone, by offering bounties for her nose. In other words, they claimed to be defending female honour by threatening misogynistic violence. The protests were not about historical accuracy; they were about policing who gets to narrate history and controlling how women are portrayed on screen.

The Padmaavat hysteria also exposed the complicity of mainstream political actors. Elected officials from parties allied with the right wing expressed sympathy for the protesters, while police often failed to prevent rioting. In some states, local authorities banned the film despite the Supreme Court’s order, citing law and order concerns. The message was clear that the rule of law could be suspended if right‑wing groups threatened violence in the name of culture. Artists and journalists learned that self‑censorship might be necessary for survival.

Valentine’s Day vigilantes: policing love

Moral policing did not begin with the Miss Rishikesh pageant; it has deep roots in the way right‑wing organisations target expressions of affection, especially around Valentine’s Day. In February 2015, India Today reported that at least fifty activists of the Bajrang Dal, the youth wing of the Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP), were arrested in Hyderabad and Cyberabad for burning effigies and greeting cards. Bajrang Dal leaders had earlier warned that they would forcibly marry off couples seen celebrating Valentine’s Day. Similar incidents occurred in Kanpur, where the group allegedly harassed young couples and even married ones. The police maintained a vigilant presence at parks and malls, anticipating trouble.

The Bajrang Dal’s justification is that Western holidays like Valentine’s Day corrupt Indian youth and encourage promiscuity. This narrative conveniently overlooks the centuries‑old Indian tradition of celebrating love through poetry and art, from the Sangam literature’s erotic verses to Khajuraho’s temple sculptures. By framing romantic love as a threat, moral police channel resentment toward women’s autonomy and interfaith relationships. Their threats of forced marriage and public humiliation hearken back to medieval punishments for social transgressions. The activism also reveals a class bias where couples in parks are targeted, but wealthy elites hosting extravagant weddings seldom face such moral scrutiny.

These vigilantes often operate with impunity because local administrations fear being labelled anti‑Hindu if they enforce the law. In some cases, police officers have stood by as mobs harassed couples, implicitly sanctioning mob rule. When authorities do intervene and arrest perpetrators, right‑wing social media networks amplify narratives about “Hindu repression.” The cycle is predictable as activists announce a new target, local officials vacillate, fear spreads, and the victims, usually young couples or marginalised minorities bear the cost.

Cow vigilantism and caste violence: flogging Dalit villagers

In July 2016, four Dalit men in Mota Samadhiyala village in Gujarat were tied to a vehicle and brutally flogged by a group of cow protection vigilantes after they were seen skinning a dead cow. According to The Guardian, the assault sparked massive protests across Gujarat and led to the detention of hundreds of demonstrators. A police officer was killed and several others injured as authorities used tear gas and batons to control the crowds. The protests highlighted the growing menace of cow vigilante groups, whose members justify violence in the name of protecting the sacred animal.

The victims of the Una flogging belonged to the Dalit caste, historically assigned tasks considered “impure” such as skinning carcasses. Even though the cow in question had died naturally and the men were performing a job mandated by civic duty, vigilantes treated them as criminals. The attack was filmed and shared widely, serving as a warning to Dalits who continue to work in leather and beef‑related trades. The cruelty did not end with the beating; local authorities initially registered cases against the victims for cow slaughter before facing public outrage. Meanwhile, the vigilantes gained hero status in certain right‑wing circles and were referred to as gaurakshaks (cow protectors).

The Una incident is one of many episodes of cow vigilantism that have surged since 2014. Muslims and Dalits transporting cattle have been lynched on suspicion of slaughtering cows; in some cases victims were forced to chant religious slogans before being killed. Videos of these attacks circulate on social media with triumphant captions. By equating the life of a cow with the lives of humans from marginalised communities, cow vigilantes invert the moral order. They claim to protect sacred animals while desecrating human dignity.

Killing dissent: the assassination of Gauri Lankesh and the menace of extremist sects

On 5 September 2017, prominent journalist Gauri Lankesh was shot dead outside her home in Bangalore by unidentified assailants. Lankesh edited a Kannada‑language weekly known for its criticism of right‑wing extremism and its coverage of communal violence and caste discrimination. Following her murder, Karnataka’s chief minister appointed a special investigation team that eventually filed charges against 18 people. Investigators alleged that the killers belonged to a criminal syndicate linked to the right‑wing Hindu organisation Sanatan Sanstha and its offshoot, Hindu Janjagruti Samiti. Family members and colleagues noted that Lankesh had received hate mail accusing her of supporting Maoist rebels, and a lawyer representing her said the murder was a “pre‑planned and sinister attack by Hindu terror units”.

Lankesh’s death was preceded by the assassinations of other rationalist thinkers such as Narendra Dabholkar and M. M. Kalburgi. Each of these killings followed a similar pattern where intellectuals critical of superstition and caste oppression were gunned down by men on motorcycles. Investigations pointed toward networks of extremists inspired by an ideology that conflates blasphemy with criticism of the far‑right. In Lankesh’s case, the conspirators allegedly maintained hit lists and practiced with guns at an ashram run by Sanatan Sanstha. The group denies involvement, but court filings and journalist investigations highlight alarming overlaps between its members and those implicated in multiple murders.

The Lankesh assassination sent shock waves through India’s journalistic community. Her murder symbolised the fate of dissenters in an environment where being critical of Hindutva politics can be fatal. Despite subsequent arrests, the trial has moved slowly, and many accused have received bail. The case underscores the dangers faced by those who challenge right‑wing narratives, particularly women and Dalits, and illustrates how pseudo‑Sanatani groups weaponise terms like “Maoist sympathiser” to justify violence.

Intolerance toward religious minorities: vandalising churches and burning Santa

Christmas 2021 saw a spate of anti‑Christian violence in India. Vatican News reported that unidentified men vandalised a statue of Jesus at the Holy Redeemer Catholic Church in Ambala, Haryana, during Christmas celebrations. A few days earlier, a 160‑year‑old Catholic church in Karnataka’s Chikkaballapur district was attacked, with sacred objects damaged. The article noted that communal tensions had intensified in the state following the passage of an anti‑conversion bill, which religious minorities feared would be used to harass them.

The vandalism did not stop there. In the city of Gurugram, a group of men who described themselves as right‑wing activists barged into a church on Christmas Eve, disrupting prayers and shouting anti‑Christian slogans. Another mob disrupted a Christmas celebration in Assam, while in Agra, Hindu activists burnt effigies of Santa Claus, accusing missionaries of using Santa to lure children into conversion. These acts were part of a broader pattern of hostility toward Christians, who constitute a tiny minority in India. Rights groups such as Persecution Relief wrote to India’s interior minister demanding protection for Christians during the holidays.

Such incidents reveal the insecurity of pseudo‑Sanatani activists who equate the existence of non‑Hindu religious practices with an attack on Hinduism. Instead of celebrating India’s pluralism, they perceive a decorated tree or a nativity scene as cultural invasions. These activists often act with impunity because local police are reluctant to confront them, fearing accusations of being “anti‑Hindu.” When the law is enforced, social media troll armies vilify officials as anti‑national. The repeated vandalism of churches echoes a similar pattern of attacks on mosques and Sufi shrines; the aim is to assert supremacy by desecrating the sacred spaces of minorities.

The hidden horror of manual scavenging: caste, compulsion and state neglect

While right‑wing organisations protest films and pageants, hundreds of thousands of Indians from the Valmiki caste risk their lives cleaning dry toilets and sewers without protective gear. A investigation described activists from the Safai Karmachari Andolan chasing the bodies of three men who died from toxic fumes in a Mumbai sewer, desperately trying to secure post‑mortem evidence to force employers to pay compensation. The report noted that activists have been documenting sewer deaths for decades to expose the persistence of manual scavenging despite laws banning it.

Manual scavenging overwhelmingly and majorly falls on one community, the Valmikis, who are considered the lowest caste in India’s social hierarchy. Men are sent into sewers; women are sent house‑to‑house to scoop human excrement with their bare hands. Activist Bezwada Wilson called manual scavenging “the most undignified job, an inhuman, barbaric practice” and noted that more than 300 people died performing it in one recent year. Despite multiple laws prohibiting manual scavenging, no employer has ever been convicted for using such labour.

The persistence of manual scavenging undermines the pseudo‑Sanatani narrative that frames Hindu society as morally superior. The same groups who claim to protect Hindu culture rarely protest sewer deaths or caste‑based segregation. In fact, the caste system provides the ideological underpinning for manual scavenging, as religious texts have historically assigned certain tasks to “untouchable” communities.

Many Valmikis internalise this hierarchy; one scavenger interviewed by The Guardian said, “I am a cleaner. I am born to do this,” reflecting centuries of social conditioning. The real affront to Sanatan Dharma lies not in a fictional film but in the continued relegation of fellow humans to slavery‑like labour. Yet, pseudo‑Sanatanis remain silent on this issue because acknowledging it would require dismantling caste privilege.

Pseudo‑Sanatani ideology versus real Sanatan Dharma

The incidents examined above are united by a common thread where they represent a commodification of Hindu identity by individuals and organisations whose actions contradict the fundamental tenets of the faith they claim to defend. Genuine Sanatan Dharma, the eternal law, emphasises compassion, self‑discipline, curiosity and equality of all beings.

Vedantic texts proclaim that the divine resides in every heart, regardless of caste, gender or species. The Bhagavad Gita commands adherents to act without attachment to ego or anger. The Upanishads extol the pursuit of truth through debate. The pseudo‑Sanatani right wing, however, uses religion as a shield for bigotry and violence. They treat law, scholarship and human dignity as expendable when they conflict with narrow interpretations of religious pride.

A hallmark of pseudo‑Sanatani activism is the manufacturing of insults. Whether it is a court’s remark about an idol or a film’s depiction of a queen, the first step is to exaggerate a perceived slight into a civilisational assault. Slogans like “Sanatan ka apmaan nahi sahega Hindustan” frame criticism as desecration, thereby converting any disagreement into a battle between patriots and traitors. This rhetorical escalation dehumanises critics and justifies disproportionate responses- from shoe throwing to death threats. The repeated invocation of a collective Hindu sentiment also obscures the diversity within Hinduism. Not all Hindus are offended by the same things, but the pseudo‑Sanatanis speak as though they are the sole arbiters of Hindu pride.

Pseudo‑Sanatanis apply outrage unevenly. They protest when a Dalit judge challenges bulldozer politics but ignore when Dalits are lynched for skinning dead cows. They disrupt beauty pageants but remain silent about child marriage and domestic violence. They burn effigies of Santa Claus yet do little to stop the exploitation of Hindu manual scavengers.

At the heart of pseudo‑Sanatani politics lies caste and gender supremacy. Justice Gavai’s caste status, the Dalit identity of manual scavengers, the female bodies on the Miss Rishikesh stage and the Muslim identity of many cow vigilante victims all play into hierarchies the pseudo‑Sanatanis seek to preserve. They might espouse slogans of Hindu unity, but their actions reinforce a social order in which Brahminical and male authority remains unchallenged. Women who defy gender norms are told to cover up; Dalits who seek equality are punished; Christians celebrating Christmas are labelled conversion agents; journalists who question Hindutva are killed.

Beyond outrage: reimagining Bharat

Recovering Hinduism’s plural soul

Reclaiming Hinduism from the pseudo‑Sanatanis requires foregrounding its pluralistic heritage. Hinduism has never been monolithic; it encompasses countless sects, philosophies, rituals and folk practices. Its sages engaged in dialogues with Buddhists, Jains, Muslims and atheists. Bhakti saints like Kabir and Mirabai challenged caste and emphasised universal love. Reformers like Swami Vivekananda and Mahatma Gandhi condemned untouchability and urged Hindus to embrace other faiths. The pseudo‑Sanatani right denies this diversity, preferring a homogenised, militarised faith. Reviving the real Sanatan Dharma means celebrating differences rather than erasing them.

Upholding constitutional morality

India’s Constitution is itself a product of pluralism. It enshrines secularism, equality, freedom of expression and the right to dissent. Upholding constitutional morality requires citizens to defend institutions like the judiciary against populist attacks. When a judge upholds due process, he or she reinforces the principle that no individual or group can claim supreme authority based on religious sentiment. The judiciary has intervened to protect the rights of women, Dalits and minorities – from striking down triple talaq to decriminalising consensual same‑sex relations. Those who claim to defend Hinduism should celebrate these victories of justice rather than threaten judges who deliver them.

Building bridges within Hinduism

Many Hindus are appalled by the violence committed in their name. Organisations like the Safai Karmachari Andolan work tirelessly to end caste‑based exploitation. Progressive theologians reinterpret scriptures to emphasize equality. Dalit and Adivasi communities conduct their own rituals that challenge Brahminical hegemony. Women priests lead temples. These voices must be amplified to show that Hinduism’s future lies in inclusion, not exclusion.

At the end, safeguard the soul of the constitution and the nation, and the sanatan will automatically be protected!

The shoe thrown at Justice Gavai, the harassment of models in Rishikesh, the burning of greeting cards on Valentine’s Day, the lynching of Dalits over dead cows, the assassination of Gauri Lankesh, the vandalism of churches and the continued existence of manual scavenging are not disconnected events. They form a pattern of pseudo‑Sanatani violence that masquerades as cultural protection while undermining the very values it claims to uphold. This brand of Hindutva thrives on outrage, selective morality and the suppression of dissent. It weaponises religious symbols to justify misogyny, casteism and majoritarian dominance.

But there is another India, a Bharat rooted in compassion, plurality and justice. It lives in the Constitution’s guarantees, in the resilience of Dalit activists, in the songs of Bhakti saints, in the courage of journalists and in the quiet dignity of ordinary citizens who believe that no faith can justify cruelty.

Reclaiming this Bharat requires confronting the pseudo‑Sanatani narrative with facts, empathy and an unwavering commitment to the rule of law. It requires Hindus to speak out when their faith is misused and to recognise that defending Sanatan Dharma means defending the rights of all Indians, regardless of caste, gender or religion. Only then can India heal the wounds inflicted by those who throw shoes at justice while claiming to worship the gods.