In Sambhal, Uttar Pradesh, a court-ordered survey of the Shahi Jama Masjid ignited a violent confrontation, resulting in four deaths and numerous injuries. The survey aimed to determine whether the 16th-century mosque was built over a demolished Hindu temple, as claimed in a legal petition. The situation escalated when nearly 1,000 protesters gathered to oppose the survey.
Look closely at this lifeless body. Her son died. Was he made a martyr by some Maulana? Did he also dream of the celestial Hoor awaiting him in Jannat? This man, like many others, pelted stones at the country’s security forces. The reason? A court-ordered survey of an alleged mosque, said to have been built by Babar after demolishing a temple.
Legal consequences will follow, as they must. Those involved will face the National Security Act (NSA), their families trembling in fear, awaiting the slim hope of bail. But beyond the courts and laws lies a deeper tragedy.
The instigators, the leaders who provoke young men like him, remain untouched. For them, this man was just another pawn in their game, easily replaced by another. Meanwhile, the family of the deceased loses a son, a brother, or a husband—a loss that cuts deeper than any police case. Yet, will they break this cycle? Or will they raise the next generation under the same veil of victimhood and hatred?
This cycle continues because of one fundamental flaw: a partial, hidden history. The real truth about those taught as heroes in religious schools never reaches their students. What reaches them instead is poison—the poison of false pride, the belief that “we ruled over them for centuries.”
But what do these so-called descendants of rulers do today? They sew garments, repair bicycles, or work as plumbers. Are they rulers, or are they the offspring of those who were forcibly converted through atrocities? Are they not sons of the same soil as the rest of us?
The day this community begins to ask these questions—questions rooted in truth—will they find leaders like KK Muhammad, who stand ready to acknowledge the injustices inflicted on the majority of this land for centuries? When will they recognize that the temples demolished out of hatred and contempt must be restored?
If this truth is embraced voluntarily, goodwill will flourish. If not, the consequences will remain unspeakable, festering into deeper wounds. As the sage once said: May the darkness of the oppressed depart, and may the world see the sun of its own religion.
This is my prayer: that we wake up to the truth, not as aggressors or victims, but as equals ready to embrace justice over prideful delusion. Only then can the cycle be broken. Only then will the streets stop burning.
