For Muslims in India, Ramadan is a time of fear
- Middle East Eye
- Apr 2
- 5 min read
Amid ongoing attacks by Hindu nationalists, the message is clear: stay quiet and invisible, or be punished
Ramadan is meant to be a time of peace for Muslims around the world. But in India, the “world’s largest democracy”, it comes with a different reality.
The call to prayer is heard alongside the outcries of mobs, and the sounds of bulldozers and funeral processions. Somewhere, another Muslim is being arrested, beaten or killed. A mosque’s gate is being rammed. A home is being bulldozed.
Somewhere, another news report will emerge of Muslims being forced to chant Hindu nationalist slogans, or of a politician with the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) making derogatory remarks against followers of Islam, or of an iftar gathering being attacked.
Our existence is treated as a crime. You do not have to search for proof or spend hours scrolling on your phone. The examples find you quickly: an Instagram reel, a viral clip, a headline that barely trends, a provocation disguised as political speech.
There was a time when these incidents were shocking - when they would spark outrage, debates, or at least some level of reaction from the state and civil society. Now, they barely register.
The violence is so routine, so expected, that it has become background noise; a fact of life. It comes with a clear warning: stay quiet, stay invisible, or be punished.
This year, Ramadan collided with the Hindu festival of Holi. And in multiple cities, Hindu nationalist groups used Holi processions as an excuse to harass Muslims. We’ve seen this pattern before: what starts as a “celebration” quickly turns into coordinated mob violence.
Victims criminalised
In the city of Nagpur, Maharashtra, this month, demands by Hindu nationalists to demolish the tomb of a Mughal ruler sparked violence, leading to dozens of injuries, including police.
In the end, more than 50 people were booked, all of them Muslim - a punishment disguised as governance. The ones who incited the violence escaped any penalty. That’s how it works now: violence breaks out, and the victims are criminalised.
During Holi, videos surfaced of mobs hurling coloured powder at mosques, and chanting anti-Muslim slogans. In the city of Aligarh, authorities covered mosques with tarpaulins - essentially a state-mandated “stay inside” order. The same occurred in other parts of Uttar Pradesh, as if Muslim spaces existing in public was an open invitation for attacks.
In Sambhal, police made it even clearer: if Muslims didn’t want to be smeared with coloured powder, part of the Holi tradition, they should just stay inside. When the chief minister of Uttar Pradesh defended this statement, the message was evident: stay inside. Be invisible. Make yourself smaller. Do not exist.
But even invisibility isn’t enough. A Muslim man was arrested earlier this month simply for speaking to the media about an attack that occurred after Taraweeh prayers in Gujarat. That is the rule in India now: Muslims must endure, but never protest; suffer, but never complain.
These aren’t isolated incidents. BJP leaders openly mock and humiliate Muslims with impunity. Raghuraj Singh, a BJP leader in Uttar Pradesh, suggested that Muslim men wear tarpaulin body coverings to avoid discomfort during Holi.
The mockery is intentional, the dehumanisation deliberate. This is not just about religious tensions; it is about power, control, and a relentless attempt to erase Muslims from public life.
The world shrugs
Whether it’s in Sambhal, Nagpur or any other place, it’s always the same pattern. When violence erupts, the blame falls on the victims. When Muslims protest, they are punished. When they stay silent, it is taken as consent.
And when they die? The world shrugs and scrolls past.
All the while, those in power continue to stoke the fires of Islamophobia, making it clear that there will be no consequences for those who harass, attack or kill Muslims. Only rewards.
It is exhausting to wake up every morning in a country that treats your existence as a provocation; to wake up knowing that at any moment, your places of worship can be attacked, your businesses shut down, your prayers criminalised. Even fasting for Ramadan has become an act of quiet resistance - not because it was meant to be, but because the state has made it so.
The normalisation of all this is the worst part. It barely sparks outrage anymore, as each incident melts into the next. There was a time when a mob storming a mosque would have been shocking, when police arresting Muslims who were victimised would have been debated. Now, it is just another day. We get a small headline, perhaps a viral video, and then silence - because there’s always going to be a next time.
Even the idea of justice has changed. It is not just about the state refusing to hold Hindu nationalist mobs accountable. It is also about the system actively punishing those who speak out.
Muslims suffer twice: first at the hands of mobs, then at the hands of police, courts and government. When a Muslim man is lynched, police target his family. When a Muslim woman speaks out, she’s harassed, doxxed, and threatened with rape.
Suffocating cruelty
This is our everyday reality. It’s not even about big moments of violence anymore. Muslim students are harassed for wearing hijabs; Muslim street vendors are beaten for selling their wares in a “Hindu area”; Muslims are refused jobs, denied homes, kicked out of neighbourhoods.
This is not just about hate speech and riots. It is about making life unliveable in small, constant ways. It is a suffocating cruelty, one that seeps into our existence, whether during Ramadan or any other time of the year.
The public watches, scrolls past, and moves on - until the next attack, the next riot, the next dead Muslim body in the street
The public apathy is staggering. India has been conditioned to see Muslim suffering as normal, expected, even deserved. The media plays its role well, hyping up communal tensions, spreading disinformation, and justifying every act of state violence.
Justice now serves power, and those meant to shield the vulnerable turn their backs, or worse, join the oppressors. The public watches, scrolls past, and moves on - until the next attack, the next riot, the next dead Muslim body in the street.
So we fast. We wake up before dawn and eat, knowing that somewhere, someone resents the fact that we are still here.
We pray, knowing that even the act of gathering in a mosque can now be treated as a crime.
We break our fast, knowing that outside our home, someone might be planning the next humiliation, the next attack - the next way to make sure that Muslims in India never forget their place.
But we do not forget. And we do not disappear, no matter how much they want us to. We are not asking for permission to exist. We are not waiting for justice to be granted. We are here - fasting, praying, living. And that, in itself, is defiance.
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