13 Jun India Divided: Sweeping Polarization, Intolerance and Division Being Felt Across Politics, Religion and Media

2025 Free Speech Award Judge and 2024 Official Selection winner Sunil Kalia details the political polarization and religious intolerance sweeping across his homeland

By Sunil Kalia

When COVID-19 hit, I was thousands of miles away from my family in India, but my heart was constantly with them. I’m a filmmaker, originally from Delhi, now living in Toronto with my wife and daughter. But my parents, my sister-in-law, and my niece live in Delhi. I lost my younger brother a few years ago, and the thought of losing anyone else was unbearable. My biggest concern was my parents.

India—dense, overcrowded, chaotic, and often struggling with basic infrastructure—seemed especially vulnerable to a crisis of this scale. Like millions of others, I turned to the news for updates. I needed to know what was happening on the ground. What precautions were being taken? Was my family safe?

But the news was a maze of confusion. The international coverage didn’t match what was being shown by mainstream Indian channels. Even as mass cremations lit up the night skies, Indian anchors continued pushing stories of “self-reliance” and “national pride.” It was like living in two separate worlds. The narratives didn’t add up, and I found myself questioning: What was really happening?

I repeatedly urged my parents to stay indoors, and thankfully, they did. They survived the worst of it, but many others weren’t so fortunate. The official death toll in India stood at around 470,000, but independent estimates placed the real figure closer to 5 million. The human cost was staggering, but the government and much of the media insisted on downplaying it—presenting figures that seemed detached from the reality of the crisis.

By the summer of 2022, with my family safe, I decided it was time to visit. My previous trips to India had always been a nostalgic sprint—party, eat, shop, meet friends, and leave. This time, I had an open return ticket, and I planned to stay for an extended period. I wanted to experience India not as a visitor, but as someone who had once called it home. I was also planning to shoot a pilot episode for a documentary series that had been brewing in my mind during the pandemic.

Political Radicalization Signals a Change in India

It didn’t take long to realize this was not the India I had left. The air felt heavier, conversations more divided, and there was a constant communal, religious, and political tension—especially on Indian news channels. But what struck me most were the saffron flags—fluttering outside homes, on rickshaws, and over shops and businesses. They weren’t just symbols of faith; they felt like something else—something louder. A message, almost a warning: This is Hindu land. We are the majority. We are in charge. It was subtle, yet overwhelming—like a quiet declaration, painted across the streets. The flags spoke without words, and what they said made me uneasy.

Even in casual conversations, there was a strong sense of pride—but not the kind I remembered. It wasn’t about celebrating culture, diversity, or resilience. Instead, people now seemed to embrace a more aggressive and “us vs. them” kind of nationalism, with polarized views dividing everyone. Questioning the state was quickly labeled as betrayal or being anti-national, while blindly following the government was seen as true patriotism.

Astonishingly, a word I had rarely heard growing up was now everywhere—Hindutva. I found myself wondering: What did it really mean?

Religious Polarization and the Rise of Hindutva

In my 30 years of living in India, I had seldom encountered this term. At first, it sounded religious—after all, it had “Hindu” in its name. But I soon realized that Hindutva wasn’t about faith; it was a political movement. Its goal was to turn India into a Hindu-only nation, pushing aside anyone who didn’t fit that vision.

I kept thinking, why is this ideology spreading? And the more I thought about it, the more I saw a troubling parallel to Jihad—the way the term, which began as a spiritual concept in Islam, was twisted into a battle cry for political radicalization. Both Jihad and Hindutva take religion and sharpen it into a weapon—for power, for control.

Deeply unsettled by these changes, I reached out to old friends to catch up—have a glass of wine, eat some Delhi delicacies, and, most of all, reconnect with people I hadn’t seen in years: writers, journalists, filmmakers, editors, and cinematographers. These friends had built successful careers, lovely homes, and families. We spent long hours together, reminiscing about the old days of film production—the studios, clunky machines, sleepless nights editing, and long journeys across the country to shoot shows.

But no matter how our conversations started, they always ended on the same note: the current political climate. The rise of Hindu fundamentalism, religious polarization, and growing hatred toward minorities. What hit closest to home for most of my friends, though, was the collapse of mainstream news media. We had all built our careers around it, worked with people in it, and had strong relationships within the industry. News media—the kind we once knew—was gone. In its place stood a machine that fed division, amplified hate, and shamelessly kissed the boots of those in power.

I asked an old journalist friend, “How’s press freedom in India?” He laughed out loud and said, “Yes, of course, everything is fine with press freedom in India—but… As long as you push a pro-government narrative, as long as you attack the opposition, as long as you amplify hatred towards minorities and play along with the government’s divide-and-rule politics, not only will you have press freedom—you’ll thrive. These are booming times for news outlets that serve as mouthpieces for the ruling party… and they are very handsomely monetarily rewarded for all the bootlicking.” Since 2014, India has been governed by a far-right Hindu nationalist political party, pushing the nation away from its secular roots and towards an agenda driven by religious ideology.

And then, in sharp contrast, I met more and more people who were proud of this new India—a radical Hindu India. Their nationalism wasn’t just strong; it was strict. “Hindus have finally woken up,” they said, believing their religion had been under threat for years, and that a leader had come to restore its lost glory. It made me wonder, why is it that the majority religion is always portrayed as under threat by rulers?

One afternoon, over a cup of chai, my nephew—a well-educated, ambitious young man—casually declared, “India is for Hindus.”

I cut him off instantly. “India is for Indians. India is not a religious state.”

The look in his eyes was chilling. It wasn’t just disagreement—it was pure contempt. A silent but absolute rejection of the secular India I had grown up in. Sadly, this wasn’t an isolated incident. A significant portion of today’s youth wears their Hindu identity like a badge of honor—but not just any badge. It’s an aggressive, almost militant pride.

Many of my family friends and their children proudly display slogans on their social media profiles like “Proud Hindu,” “Jai Shri Ram” “India for Hindus, Hindus for India!” and “Hindutva Zindabad.” Young boys sport religious bumper stickers on their cars and bikes, and people openly use divisive language on social media, attacking minorities without fear or shame. During an election rally, the Prime Minister weaponized rhetoric to dehumanize minorities, openly referring to 200 million Indian Muslims as “infiltrators.” The India that once prided itself on “unity in diversity” now feels fractured, with an entire generation conditioned to see non-Hindus as outsiders—or worse, enemies. Religion is no longer just a personal or spiritual matter; it has been weaponized for political gain.

Divisive News Media Leads to End of Freedom of Press

And the scariest part? It’s not just being accepted—it’s being celebrated.

But there are many voices that rise against this narrow, sectarian, and divided vision of India—some louder than others, some fearless beyond measure. One of those voices was Gauri Lankesh.

A journalist and activist, Gauri was a fierce critic of Hindu nationalism. She spoke out against the dangers of communal politics and challenged the tightening grip of Hindutva. She stood with Dalits, defended minorities, and called for religious harmony. She raised her voice against caste violence and fought for an India where everyone was truly equal.

But the truth, when aimed at power, comes with consequences. In 2017, Gauri was shot dead outside her home by individuals linked to Hindu extremist groups. Her murder sent shockwaves across the country—especially shaking those who still believed in a secular, democratic India.

Gauri’s murder was not an exception—it was part of a disturbing pattern. A growing list of voices questioning Hindu radicalism, caste injustice, and religious bigotry were being silenced, either with bullets or through intimidation. Govind Pansare—a left-wing politician and writer—was gunned down in 2015 for daring to speak out against rising communal hatred.

A few months later, journalist M.M. Kalburgi was shot dead in his home for challenging religious orthodoxy. Rationalist Narendra Dabholkar, who fought against superstition and blind faith, was assassinated. Umar Khalid, a student activist and outspoken critic of the government, along with hundreds more, remains in jail, waiting for hearings that drag on for years. Writer Perumal Murugan was hounded by Hindu extremists, forcing him to flee his hometown with his family; the threats led him to announce his own “literary death.”

In 2017, just months after Gauri’s death, activists Vernon Gonsalves and Arun Ferreira were arrested—part of a wider crackdown that saw 18 writers, poets, and activists jailed on questionable charges. Their “crime”? They stood with the oppressed, defended the right to dissent, and spoke out against state violence and the growing grip of radical Hindutva politics.

For almost a decade now, religious tensions have been alarmingly rising in India—seeping into everyday life, from neighborhoods to newsrooms. Most Hindus remained unaffected—or worse, unaware—of the simmering hatred and fear that has been spreading beneath the surface. But it wasn’t just minorities or those who spoke against religious fundamentalism who were under attack. Anyone who dared to dissent—who questioned those in power or challenged the state’s narrative—found themselves being targeted.

While mainstream Indian news media was busy wagging its tail for those in power, Dainik Bhaskar, one of India’s leading Hindi newspapers, dared to show the grim reality. Its coverage of COVID-19, with stark images of mass deaths, overwhelmed crematoriums, and government mismanagement, stood in sharp contrast to the official narrative. The response? The newspaper’s offices were raided, and journalists were harassed. Since then, sadly, the paper has taken a quieter approach.

NewsClick, an independent online news portal, was similarly targeted under flimsy allegations of foreign funding violations. Several prominent journalists working with the organization were harassed, detained, and subjected to endless hours of absurd questioning. Many other independent news outlets, including The Wire, Newslaundry, Scroll, and Alt News, have faced relentless attacks—raids, legal harassment, and intimidation—sending a clear message to those who refuse to be government mouthpieces.

Writer and journalist Aatish Taseer faced similar consequences after his article in Time magazine called Modi the “Divider in Chief”—his Overseas Citizenship of India (OCI) was revoked, effectively exiling him. Ashok Swain, a professor and vocal critic of the regime’s radical fundamentalism, also had his OCI revoked. Actor and activist Chetan Kumar suffered the same fate for speaking out against right-wing politics.

French journalists Sébastien Farcis and Vanessa Dougnac, both longtime residents of India, were forced to leave after their permits were canceled. Many reputed foreign news outlets, prominent journalists, and scholars of South Asian studies have also been barred from working in India—either denied visas or refused extensions on their stay. A loud and clear message: Question power, and you risk losing both your right to stay and your right to say.

Political Radicalization Under Modi’s Rule

A well-researched, two-part BBC documentary on the 2002 Gujarat riots—where violent religious clashes led to what many call a genocide—was critical of Modi’s role. The documentary was swiftly banned; when students and free speech advocates organized screenings, police forces were deployed, and internet connections and power were cut off to prevent people from watching the film. Within weeks, the BBC’s offices in India were raided, sending an unmistakable warning—not just to the filmmakers, but to every journalist: Stay silent, or face the consequences. India is alarmingly low on the press freedom index, with many journalists being killed or imprisoned for speaking out. Thousands of YouTube videos and social media accounts are mysteriously deleted, with only one narrative allowed to prevail—the rest are silenced. Most of this is not reported or talked about, and if something does make the news, the narrative is that the person is “anti-India” or “Hindu-phobic.”

In this decade of media takeovers and shrinking press freedom, one mainstream news channel stood its ground for years—NDTV. It refused to bend, delivering independent journalism despite mounting pressure. But in 2022, that resistance came to an end. A hostile takeover didn’t just change ownership; it wiped out the last major newsroom willing to challenge those in power. The man behind it? Gautam Adani, a close ally of PM Modi who mysteriously rose from a diamond trader to one of the richest men in the world. His acquisition of NDTV defied logic—why would a tycoon obsessed with profits fight so hard for a financially struggling news channel? The goal was to kill the last flicker of independent journalism on primetime TV. Under BJP and Adani’s grip, NDTV has gone from a voice of resistance to just another cog in the propaganda machine. From a voice of dissent to just another megaphone for power, NDTV is now proof that in Modi’s India, journalism isn’t bought—it’s buried.

In a 2002 interview with BBC journalist Jill McGivering, then-Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi was questioned about his handling of the Gujarat riots, in which over 1,000 people—mostly Muslims—were killed in brutal communal violence. When asked if he would have done anything differently, Modi responded, “One area where I was very, very weak. That was how to handle the media.” His answer made it clear—he wasn’t reflecting on the lives lost or the horrors of the violence. His only regret was that he hadn’t controlled the narrative better. Two decades later, it’s evident that he learned his lesson well. Today, under his leadership, media in India is tightly controlled, dissent is crushed, and independent journalism is under relentless attack.

I asked my friends where they get their news. Their answer? “Surely not from Indian news media – no Indian news channel subscriptions, no newspapers.” they said. “There’s so much to do in India—cultural events, cricket, festivals, travel, movies, web series—why waste time watching propaganda, religious division, and a divisive Prime Minister being treated like some kind of messiah?” And yet, despite the polarized society, India is thriving. The economy is growing, metro lines and highways are expanding, and the start-up ecosystem is booming. Young entrepreneurs are making global strides, and India’s tech industry continues to shine.

A Mix of Fear and Hope for the Future

But I do worry. I worry about this increasingly fractured India, where everything feels like it’s being divided—be it religion, politics, or communities. It’s becoming a society where you either fit in with one group, or you’re pushed out. I worry about the youth who have spent the last decade marinating in religious polarization, Hindu nationalism, and divisive propaganda. While my parents raised me to appreciate diversity and pluralism, the youth today are being raised on an ideology that pushes polarization and religious intolerance.

But most of all, I worry about my niece—bright, kind, beautiful, compassionate, and full of life in her teens. One day, she will fall in love, and I fear she might end up with someone steeped in radical ideology. Because in today’s India, if you throw a stone into a crowd, chances are it’ll hit a young man whose mind has been poisoned by hate-filled propaganda—someone consumed by a radicalized, narrow, sectarian vision of India with no room for tolerance and diversity.

Read: Sunil Kalia, 2024 Official Selection, Explores How the Power of Free Speech Can Inspire Change

Free Speech Film Festival Award

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