The arrests made by STF Assam police of IMK cadres under Operation Praghat have brought back into public discourse a phrase that sounds arcane but carries dangerous contemporary implications: Ghazwatul Hind.
The uncovering of radicalised modules in Assam and neighbouring regions revealed how this idea has been weaponised by transnational extremist networks to justify violence, recruit impressionable youth and undermine Assam’s plural and constitutional order.
To understand why this notion is so corrosive, it is necessary to separate theology from propaganda, faith from political manipulation, and religion from radical ideology.
Ghazwatul Hind is a term drawn from certain narrations in Islamic tradition, loosely translated as a “battle for Hind”.
Extremist groups project it as a prophetic call for Muslims to wage war against the Indian subcontinent and establish Islamic rule through violence.
This interpretation, however, is neither universally accepted nor theologically sound.
In classical Islamic usage, the word “ghazwa” referred specifically to military expeditions led personally by the Prophet Muhammad in a particular historical context marked by persecution, tribal warfare and existential threats to the early Muslim community.
Over centuries, some later narrations came to mention “Hind”, but these references were never accorded the centrality or clarity that extremists now claim for them.
The leap from scattered, contested narrations to a contemporary call for armed jihad in India is not an act of faith but one of deliberate distortion.
For a plural society like India, such a distortion is especially dangerous. India’s civilisational experience is rooted in coexistence, dialogue and negotiated identities.
Muslims in India are not outsiders or remnants of conquest; they are an integral part of the nation’s social, cultural and political fabric.
The idea of Ghazwatul Hind, when framed as an inevitable religious war, directly negates this lived reality. It reduces Indian Muslims to instruments of a global ideological project and casts non-Muslims as permanent enemies, thereby poisoning inter-community relations.
In Assam, where ethnic complexity, migration anxieties and historical grievances already create social fault lines, the injection of such a narrative is particularly combustible.
It threatens not only communal harmony but also regional stability, given Assam’s proximity to international borders and its history of insurgency and identity-based movements.
Operation Prahar revealed that such ideas are no longer disseminated solely through traditional religious spaces, but also through sophisticated digital ecosystems.
Radical handlers exploit social media platforms, encrypted messaging applications and online sermons to draw young men into echo chambers where selective religious texts are presented as absolute truths.
Grievances related to discrimination, unemployment or identity are then reframed as evidence of a cosmic war against Islam. Ghazwatul Hind becomes a rallying cry that promises meaning, heroism and divine sanction.
This process thrives on theological illiteracy and emotional vulnerability rather than genuine religious learning.
Crucially, this extremist narrative has been strongly and consistently rejected by mainstream Muslim scholars like Maulana Mufti Salman Mansoorpuri of the Jamiat Ulema-e-Hind, Maulana Waris Mazhari, another respected scholar of Darul Uloom Deoband and Maulana Mufti Mushtaq Tijarvi of Jamaat-e-Islami India.
According to them, the narrations used to justify it are weak in their chains of transmission, ambiguous in meaning and incapable of being applied to the present time.
Scholars have explained that even if such narrations are taken at face value, they either refer to historical events long past, to regions that may not correspond to modern India, or to an eschatological future whose conditions, as described in authentic Islamic sources, are clearly absent today.
On this basis, respected scholars have categorically stated that invoking Ghazwatul Hind to incite violence in contemporary India is religiously invalid and morally reprehensible.
This scholarly rejection is a powerful counter-radicalisation tool.
When extremist recruiters claim divine authority, the most effective rebuttal should come from within the same religious tradition, using its own rigorous standards.
Preventing radicalisation, therefore, requires a multi-layered strategy. Law enforcement action, as demonstrated by Operation Prahar, is necessary to disrupt networks, deter organisers and signal that the state will not tolerate violence cloaked in religious rhetoric.
But policing alone cannot address the deeper ideological currents that feed radicalisation. Education, both religious and secular, plays a vital role.
Young people must be equipped with critical thinking skills and access to authentic religious knowledge so that they are not easily swayed by online propaganda.
Training programmes for imams and religious teachers can help ensure that sermons and lessons emphasise ethical conduct, constitutional values and peaceful coexistence.
Civil society has a very important role to play in the current situation of political jingoism. Community organisations, youth groups, women’s networks and local leaders are often the first to notice behavioural changes that signal radicalisation.
Empowering them with awareness, counselling resources, and channels of communication with authorities can enable early intervention.
Families, too, need support, as radicalisation often flourishes in isolation and secrecy.
Creating spaces for dialogue, grievance redressal and social inclusion reduces the sense of alienation that extremist narratives exploit.
The Constitution guarantees freedom of religion while simultaneously placing reasonable limits to protect public order and morality.
It enshrines equality before law, rejects theocracy and affirms secularism not as hostility to religion but as principled neutrality and equal respect.
ALSO READ: Strong SDG performance makes Mizoram ideal for CSR investment: CM
When constitutional values are upheld in letter and spirit, they deny extremists the grievance narrative that the state is inherently anti-religious or oppressive.
In Assam, safeguarding pluralism also means recognising and strengthening the region’s indigenous traditions of syncretism and coexistence.
Reviving and amplifying these traditions can act as a cultural antidote to imported, rigid ideologies. When local identities are affirmed, transnational extremist narratives lose their appeal.
The challenge posed by Ghazwatul Hind is ultimately not a clash of religions but a struggle over interpretation, power and belonging.
It is a reminder that ideas, when distorted and weaponised, can be as dangerous as weapons themselves. Countering such ideas requires intellectual clarity, moral courage and collective responsibility.
Operation Prahar has exposed the threat; the task now is to create an atmosphere of counter-radicalisation, and civil society in Assam can do the honours.
