By Poonam Sharma
What’s happening in West Bengal isn’t communal tension. It isn’t a protest. It’s not even a riot in the traditional sense. It’s the unraveling of a larger, calculated design — and the silence around it is as dangerous as the violence itself.
In recent weeks, districts in Bengal have witnessed targeted attacks against Hindus. Homes have been torched. Temples vandalized. Families displaced. Women assaulted. The mobs are organized. The slogans are familiar. And the response — or lack thereof — is chilling.
This isn’t an isolated flare-up. It’s part of a broader pattern that’s been developing across multiple states — from pockets of Kerala to districts in Uttar Pradesh. And yet, the national media has remained conspicuously quiet. The so-called liberal ecosystem, so quick to amplify narratives of Hindu majoritarianism, has gone missing. NGOs, international outlets, and celebrity voices that once flooded timelines during the CAA protests are nowhere to be seen.
The contrast is stark. When violence breaks out and the accused are from the majority community, the headlines are immediate and unforgiving: “Hindu mob lynches Muslim man,” “Religious hate crimes on the rise.” Hashtags trend. Documentaries are planned. UN statements follow.
But when jihadi mobs shout “Allahu Akbar” and set Hindu homes on fire? It becomes a “local dispute.” A “land issue.” A “breakdown of communication.” Euphemisms pour in, sanitizing the brutality.
The reality on the ground is harder to erase. Eyewitness accounts, local reports, and unfiltered footage point to coordinated targeting — not spontaneous outbursts. Hindu symbols are desecrated. Temples are burned while police stand by. In some areas, law enforcement appears either helpless or complicit. In others, political pressure keeps them from acting decisively.
Bengal is not new to violence. But the nature of what’s unfolding now marks a shift. This is no longer about political rivalry or economic disparity. The ideological undercurrents are unmistakable — and they’ve been long in the making.
Documents recovered from the now-banned Popular Front of India (PFI) detailed a chilling vision titled “Mission 2047” — a demographic, ideological, and political plan to establish Islamic dominance in India by the nation’s centenary of independence. While dismissed by some as fringe rhetoric, its steps are alarmingly visible. Bengal and Kerala were listed as “priority zones” due to demographic advantage and weak resistance.
The plan, as outlined, focuses on infiltrating institutions, expanding radical preaching, and exploiting religious victimhood to gain both sympathy and cover. In this context, the current Bengal unrest looks less like random violence and more like a test run.
Curiously, the same voices that once warned of an impending Muslim genocide in India have gone radio silent. This time, the victims don’t fit their template. There are no skullcaps in distress, no viral images of bruised faces under burqas. The injured are Hindu. The temples, not mosques, lie in ashes.
Even before facts surfaced in previous incidents, several “secular” commentators rushed to call it “Hindu versus Christian” or “Hindu mob lynching.” But today, with multiple attacks on Hindu families, they prefer to call it “clashes.” Their outrage has vanished.
This selective activism is not just hypocrisy. It is complicity. By refusing to acknowledge the reality of Islamist violence, the ecosystem that claims to fight for minority rights is enabling the very forces that threaten them.
Because the hard truth is this: Islamist extremism does not stop with one group. It swallows all dissent. History offers enough examples — from Pakistan to Bangladesh to Afghanistan — of what happens when radical ideology becomes state policy. Minorities vanish. Women disappear. Rights are erased.
In Pakistan, Christian and Hindu girls are abducted and forcibly converted, routinely. In Bangladesh, temple vandalism is seasonal, coinciding with every religious festival. In Afghanistan, the last remaining Sikhs and Hindus fled in fear, and even moderate Muslims face persecution under Taliban rule.
India was supposed to be different. But the ground is shifting. If the majority community can be targeted with such precision — while the state watches and the media censors — what happens when the same ideology grows stronger?
There’s also an information war at play. WhatsApp forwards, local mosque sermons, radical YouTube preachers — all reinforce the idea that India is hostile to Muslims, that they must “resist” or “conquer.” Phrases like “Ghazwa-e-Hind” — once dismissed as fringe fantasy — are now part of the popular lexicon in radical circles. They’re graffitied on walls, echoed in speeches, and shouted during mob violence.
None of this is accidental. It’s part of a decades-long project to radicalize, polarize, and eventually destabilize.
And yet, those who raise the alarm are vilified. Branded fascists. Trolled. Sued. The pattern is familiar: expose Islamist violence, and you’re the communal one. Ignore it, and you’re secular.
Meanwhile, Bengal burns. And the silence grows louder.
India is not staring at a riot. It’s staring at a civilizational threat. One that doesn’t wear uniforms, doesn’t raise formal armies, but infiltrates minds, streets, and institutions. If not countered now — with facts, law, and will — the consequences could be irreversible.
This isn’t fearmongering. It’s reportage.
And the clock is ticking.
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