When ‘I Love Muhammad’ becomes a crime

IN early September, communal tension flared in Kanpur after a lightboard reading 'I Love Muhammad' was put up for a celebration. It prompted objections from neighbourhood residents, leading to police intervention.

The heavy-handed police response ignited protests across states, with declarations of devotion to the Prophet appearing on streets and social media as many Muslims saw in these events not law enforcement but criminalisation of faith itself and evidence of an administration willing to treat religious expression as a law and order problem.

By reacting with hostility to a harmless declaration of love, we are signalling that the ethos of coexistence no longer defines us. A simple slogan that invites such outrage tells us about the climate which has been created over the years — one where religious identities are pitted against one another and the public sphere is turned into a battleground of demonisation and exclusion.

The founding generation of India's republic, drawing on the deeper currents of its civilisation, understood that our strength lay in coexistence rather than uniformity.

These ideals underscore the fact that this plural vision was never intended to be about tolerance in a narrow sense, but about meaningful coexistence, about celebrating diversity as a source of strength. The syncretic traditions of Bhakti and Sufi saints, the shared festivals and the overlapping practices of everyday life all testified to this living pluralism.

The recent Durga Puja and Navratri saw people from all backgrounds joining the celebrations, organising pandals and offering their labour and artistry. This tradition continues despite the rising tensions. Even among the Indian diaspora abroad, communities come together during one another's festivals. It shows that coexistence is not just a matter of political correctness, but something deeper within our collective identity.

Images of the current hostility — now coming from even peaceful states like Punjab — suggest that this is not accidental. The controversy over ‘I Love Muhammad’is symptomatic of a deliberate attempt to redefine India in exclusivist terms, where asserting love for one faith is construed as an affront to another. This binary logic is alien to the Indian ethos but has been normalised in recent years through majoritarian politics.

The demonisation of any group's religious or cultural identity weakens the entire social fabric. Today it is ‘I Love Muhammad’; tomorrow it could be ‘I Love Jesus’ or ‘I Love Buddha’. Once exclusivity takes root, no community is safe from its narrowing grip.

The present moment is grave because the public sphere has transformed into a site of fear. People hesitate to display their faith openly, not because faith has diminished, but because faith has become politicised.

This climate robs people of their rights to live and express themselves with dignity. It also distorts the meaning of love. That ‘I Love Muhammad’ can provoke controversy reminds us that love in today's India must pass through the gauntlet of political approval.

We were made to believe, and rightly so, that the Idea of India is the foundation on which our democracy, our Constitution and our cultural vitality rest. Our ability to hold contradictions, our comfort with multiplicity, that once united us, is now treated as a weakness.

If we continue down this path, we risk descending into a society where identities clash endlessly, where diversity becomes a curse rather than a gift. In the process, we betray the ideals of our founding generation and the lived practices of millions of ordinary Indians, who, for centuries, have worshipped at shared shrines, sung each other's songs and seen no contradiction in revering both Muhammad and Mahakaal.

Irrespective of political affiliations, we must collectively reclaim the Idea of India and resist the binary logic that pits faiths against one another. It requires us to remember and retell the stories of coexistence: the Hindu villagers who join Muslims in celebrating Muharram, the Muslims who play roles in Ramlilas, the shared devotion at dargahs and temples across the land.

It requires us to safeguard the constitutional principles of fraternity and secularism, not as cold legal provisions, but as living values that even our institutions have forgotten to uphold.

Our politics must move beyond the easy gains of polarisation and embrace the harder but more rewarding task of nurturing trust. Civil society, writers, artists, teachers and everyday citizens must speak up for the plural vision.

An appeal to restore that vision is not merely nostalgic; it is necessary. We still have the power to choose differently. We can still reclaim the plural vision that made India a civilisation, not just a nation-state.

Manoj Kumar Jha is Rajya Sabha MP, Rashtriya Janata Dal.