The Scales of Justice: A Narrative of Hypocrisy in India’s Communal Conflicts

Yasmin Farooqui

In the sweltering summer of 2025, the arrest of Wajahat Khan, a 30-year-old Muslim activist, by Kolkata Police on June 9 sent ripples through India’s already polarized communal landscape. Khan, co-founder of the Rashidi Foundation, had sparked controversy by filing a complaint against Sharmishta Panoli, a Hindu law student and social media influencer, for Islamophobic posts. Panoli’s arrest on May 30 in Gurugram was a rare moment of accountability, but her swift release on interim bail by June 6, granted by the Calcutta High Court on procedural grounds, stood in stark contrast to Khan’s continued detention. Accused of derogatory remarks against Hindu deities, Khan faced multiple FIRs from Hindu right wing groups, a rejected bail plea, and six days of police custody by June 10. The asymmetry of their treatment—both charged with hate speech under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, yet one free and the other detained—laid bare a troubling hypocrisy in India’s justice system, where Muslims often bear the brunt of harsher repercussions than Hindus for similar offenses.

The Khan-Panoli case is not an isolated incident but a chapter in a broader saga of double standards that have come to define India’s communal conflicts since the Bharatiya Janata Party’s rise to power in 2014. This narrative weaves together the threads of legal disparities, political inconsistencies, and societal biases, amplified by Hindu right-wing influence and systemic Islamophobia, to tell the story of a nation grappling with its pluralistic ideals. Through the lens of the Khan-Panoli case and similar episodes since 2019, we explore how India’s institutions and public discourse have tilted the scales of justice, favoring one community over another, and what this means for the soul of its democracy.

Panoli’s freedom versus Khan’s detention

The story begins with Khan, a young man whose activism through the Rashidi Foundation sought to uplift marginalized voices. His decision to call out Panoli’s alleged Islamophobic posts was bold, given the climate of intolerance that has gripped India. Panoli, a law student with a significant following on social media, had reportedly shared content that demeaned Muslims, though the specifics remain obscured by the case’s legal intricacies. Her arrest was a flicker of hope for those seeking accountability for hate speech, but the Calcutta High Court’s decision to grant her bail, citing procedural lapses, extinguished that hope almost immediately. Panoli walked free from Alipore Women’s Correctional Home, her case fading from public scrutiny.

Khan, however, faced a very different fate. Hindu right wing groups, led by the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, swiftly retaliated, filing FIRs across West Bengal, Assam, and Delhi, accusing him of insulting Hindu deities like Goddess Kamakhya and Lord Krishna. Assam Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma, a prominent BJP figure known for his polarizing rhetoric, took to X to condemn Khan, framing his alleged remarks as an affront to Hindu sentiments. By June 9, Kolkata Police tracked Khan down in Amherst Street after he had been absconding for over a week. The Alipore ACJM court, unmoved by his plea, rejected his bail and remanded him to custody, while police from Assam and Haryana prepared to question him. The contrast was undeniable: Panoli’s freedom versus Khan’s detention, both for hate speech, revealed a justice system swayed by communal currents.

Kapil Mishra versus Umar Khalid

This disparity is not new. In February 2020, the streets of Northeast Delhi erupted in communal riots, claiming 53 lives, most of them Muslim, amid protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act. At the heart of the violence was a speech by BJP leader Kapil Mishra, who stood before a crowd and issued a veiled ultimatum to clear anti-CAA protesters. The words, captured on video, were incendiary, yet Mishra faced no legal consequences. BJP leaders rallied behind him, painting his actions as patriotic. Across the city, Umar Khalid, a student activist, was arrested under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, accused of “orchestrating” the riots based on speeches arguably far less incendiary than Mishra’s. Khalid languished in jail until 2024, his life upended by a legal system that seemed to see his faith before his innocence. Amnesty International’s scathing report on the riots pointed to Delhi Police’s selective investigations, ignoring Hindu nationalist leaders while targeting Muslims. The echoes of this hypocrisy resonate in the Khan-Panoli case, where one walks free and the other is pursued relentlessly.

Sulli Deals

A year later, in July 2021, the digital realm became a battleground for communal hatred with the emergence of “Sulli Deals,” an app created by Hindu right-wing individuals that mock-auctioned Muslim women, including journalists like Rana Ayyub. The app’s successor, “Bulli Bai,” surfaced in January 2022, continuing the vile campaign. The perpetrators, including Aumkareshwar Thakur and Vishal Jha, were arrested only after public outcry, and even then, they secured bail within months. Meanwhile, in Uttar Pradesh, a young Muslim named Zubair Ahmad was detained for weeks in 2021 over a tweet deemed offensive to Hindu sentiments. The tweet, far less severe than the apps’ targeted harassment, drew swift action from a BJP-led government eager to signal its crackdown on “anti-Hindu” content. On social media, posts celebrated the apps as harmless pranks while demanding Ahmad’s punishment, a double standard that mirrors the selective outrage directed at Khan but not at Panoli. The silence of BJP leaders on the apps, contrasted with their vocal condemnation of Muslim social media users, further exposed the political hypocrisy at play.

Cow Politics

The physical toll of communal bias is perhaps most visceral in the wave of cow-related lynchings that have scarred India’s heartland. In April 2023, Sabir Malik, a Muslim man, was beaten to death in Uttar Pradesh by cow vigilantes, including one Brijesh Mishra, who was arrested but quickly released on bail. In June 2025, a 65-year-old Muslim man in Bihar met a similar fate, lynched over alleged beef possession, though police initially dismissed it as an accident. Yet, when Mohammad Akhlaq was arrested in 2022 for alleged cow smuggling, he faced months in detention despite flimsy evidence, his family hounded by threats. Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath’s public praise for cow protection, juxtaposed with his silence on vigilante violence, paints a picture of state-sanctioned bias. Lynchings are justified as the defense of Hindu values, while Muslim victims are branded criminals, a narrative that finds its parallel in the vilification of Khan. IndiaSpend’s 2024 report, noting that over 60% of cow-related violence victims are Muslims, underscores the systemic nature of this hypocrisy.

Pragya Singh Thakur and Safoora Zargar

The case of Pragya Thakur, a BJP MP accused in the 2008 Malegaon blast, further illustrates the uneven scales of justice. Thakur, free on bail since 2017, has openly praised Nathuram Godse and made anti-Muslim remarks, yet faces no repercussions for her hate speech. In contrast, Safoora Zargar, a Muslim student activist, was arrested in 2020 under UAPA for alleged anti-CAA protest violence, detained while pregnant, and subjected to prolonged legal harassment despite her release. The Supreme Court’s mild rebuke of Thakur’s remarks, without action, stands in stark contrast to Zargar’s ordeal. BJP’s defense of Thakur as a Hindu icon, while social media campaigns branded Zargar a “jihadi,” mirrors the polarized narratives surrounding Panoli and Khan. This pattern of leniency for Hindu figures and persecution of Muslims speaks to a deeper malaise.

Hijab Ban

In early 2022, Karnataka’s classrooms became a flashpoint when Muslim female students were barred from wearing hijabs, a policy enforced by the BJP-led government and upheld by the Karnataka High Court. Hindu nationalist groups like the Hindu Jagarana Vedike championed the ban, portraying the hijab as a symbol of Islamic assertion. Muslim students faced harassment, some forced to abandon their education, while Hindu symbols like bindis went unchallenged. Chief Minister Basavaraj Bommai’s defense of the ban as a matter of cultural uniformity, absent any critique of Hindu nationalist protests, echoed the selective rhetoric of Sarma in Khan’s case. Hashtags like #HijabHatao fueled anti-Muslim sentiment, a digital echo of the vilification faced by Khan. The ban’s disproportionate impact on Muslim women laid bare the hypocrisy of a system that claims neutrality but tilts toward majoritarian values.

Systemic Islamophobia

These stories—of riots, digital hate, lynchings, political impunity, and cultural exclusion—converge on a common truth: India’s system is marred by hypocrisy. Legal frameworks, from UAPA to BNS, are applied with a bias that favors Hindu right wing, as seen in Panoli’s bail and Khan’s detention. Political leaders, from Sarma to Adityanath, condemn Muslim actions while excusing Hindu nationalist excesses, a pattern entrenched since 2014. Social media platforms amplify this bias, justifying anti-Muslim actions while vilifying Muslims. Human Rights Watch’s 2023 report on India’s communal violence points to systemic Islamophobia, where majoritarian sentiments shape justice. Judicial inconsistencies, granting leniency to figures like Thakur but not Zargar, further erode trust.

Yet, the narrative is not without nuance. Laws exist for all, but their enforcement betrays bias, suggesting a problem of implementation rather than legislation. Hindu Extremist claims of targeting “anti-Hindu” actions, as in Khan’s or Khalid’s cases, demand scrutiny, though the scale of disparity undermines their validity. The role of social media, where both communities amplify outrage, complicates accountability, as seen in the Khan-Panoli case’s digital escalation. Unverified allegations, like Khan’s posts, require caution, but the pattern of unequal outcomes remains undeniable.

A mirror held to India’s conscience

The implications are profound. Such hypocrisy erodes public trust in institutions, deepens communal divides, and normalizes anti-Muslim sentiment, threatening India’s pluralistic ethos. To rewrite this narrative, India must embrace reforms: a judiciary that applies laws consistently, holding all accountable for hate speech; political leaders who condemn communal rhetoric unequivocally; social media platforms that curb polarized campaigns; and societal initiatives that foster interfaith dialogue. Without these steps, the scales of justice will remain tilted, and India’s democratic promise will falter.

The Khan-Panoli case, like the stories of Mishra and Khalid, Thakur and Zargar, is a mirror held to India’s conscience. It reflects a nation at a crossroads, where the choice between hypocrisy and equity will shape its future. As Wajahat Khan sits in custody and Sharmishta Panoli walks free, their story is a call to action—a plea for a justice system that sees beyond faith, for a society that values its diversity, and for a democracy that honors