Violence In Ramzan, Anxiety On Ram Navami: Multiple Attacks On Muslims During The Holy Month

It was their wedding anniversary, and the evening before Ramzan. In Rabia’s home, the rhythms of celebration and devotion had begun to overlap. Preparations for the first suhoor, the meal eaten before dawn during Ramzan, were underway, the kitchen alive with small, familiar routines. Her husband, Mohammad Umar Din,  had come home early, carrying a cake to mark the occasion. They were waiting for their children to return from school.

Rabia remembers the exact moment the day broke. Her 15-year-old son called. “Come quickly,” he said, calling from a stranger’s phone, almost losing consciousness by that time. “They are beating me badly.”

When Rabia and her husband, a 41-year-old goods vehicle driver, reached the spot near their son’s school in northeast Delhi’s Nand Nagiri, a crowd had already gathered. Their son had been pulled into a scuffle among children and singled out. “He’s also from that community, take him too,” she recalls them saying before they beat him. His only mistake, she tells Outlook, was that he was Muslim, targeted with slurs like “katwa” and “mulla.”

Her husband hadn’t gone there to fight but to protect his son. By then, however, the situation had already spiraled. Instead of calming down, the crowd turned on him. “So, you’ve come to support your son? We’ll deal with you too,” they said, before the confrontation escalated into violence. What followed unfolded in seconds. As they turned into a lane, a man emerged from his house and began firing. One bullet struck Umar Deen in the chest.

“I was shouting, ‘Don’t kill him, please, for God’s sake,” says Rabia, breaking down. “But they didn’t listen.”

The last memory that Rabia has of her husband is him trying to run toward her for protection and then slowly collapsing a short distance away, blood oozing out of his mouth and nobody stepping forward to help. 

An auto driver eventually agreed to take them to the hospital, but he died on the way. “It was our anniversary. The same day, my world was destroyed,” Rabia says, recalling 17 February, this year just a day before Ramzan. Her story is not an isolated rupture. It sits within a pattern during religious periods in India, particularly Ramzan and in Ram Navami. 

Her son, she says, still hears the words that accompanied the beating: “Maaro kattu ko - kill the kattu’,” a derogatory slur, carrying a deeply abusive and communal connotation, used for Muslims 

This year, as Muslims across India fasted, prayed, and prepared for Eid, reports of arrests, assaults, killings, and open hate speech surfaced from multiple states. What is meant to be a month of restraint, reflection, and piety has, in many places, been marked by unease and fear. The tension has further sharpened by what follows, say human rights activists who have been working on minority issues in India. 

Ram Navami, once largely a quieter, devotional observance, has, in recent years, increasingly been accompanied by reports of processions turning confrontational, neighbourhoods becoming sites of assertion, and, at times, violence targeting Muslims. For many, the overlap between Ramzan and Ram Navami no longer feels incidental, but like a period where anxieties deepen and everyday acts, praying, gathering, even moving through public spaces, are fraught with risk.

“This should not happen to Muslims. Our religion is being targeted again and again,” says Rabia, her voice breaking as she reflects on what it means to be Muslim in India today. “My son is just 15, how could he be a threat to anyone?” Outlook tried reaching out to Nand Nagiri police station and DCP North East Delhi, through several phone calls but no answer was received. The story will be updated if and when a response is received. 

“He wakes up in the middle of the night, sobbing. All he says is that his father would still be alive if he hadn’t called him,” she says. 

Violence with a pattern

In Varanasi, 14 Muslim men who gathered for an iftar on a boat last week,  were arrested on March 18 after allegations that they had eaten biryani and “hurt religious sentiments.”   This led to police action and the addition of charges under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, including extortion. The accused are currently remanded to judicial custody pending further legal proceedings.

A Varanasi court later denied bail to these men, stating that the charges against them are serious and non-bailable, citing violations of religious sentiments and public nuisance. 

In Pune, a group breaking their fast was attacked by a mob armed with sticks and rods on March 13.  In Lucknow during the month of Ramzan, students who prayed outdoors after their campus prayer hall was shut were served notices and asked to furnish heavy bonds.

In Ludhiana, Kashmiri students alleged they were denied food for sehri and iftar on February 26; a purported video showed the university’s vice-chancellor abusing them and threatening expulsion. In Uttarakhand, a video showed a Muslim man being beaten while offering namaz on February 25, being forced to chant “Jai Shri Ram.”

And in Delhi’s Uttam Nagar, the aftermath of a local murder on Holi, March 4 spiralled into something larger and more dangerous. The killing of a man named Tarun was quickly communalised. Videos circulated with explicit calls for violence.

“Khoon ki Holi (blood-soaked Holi) will be played this Eid,” one speaker declared.

Others went further: “Give us five minutes… we will take 108 lives for one.” Residents reported threats, intimidation, and an atmosphere so charged that some Muslim families chose to leave their homes ahead of Eid.

Across the country, the violence has taken many forms, harassment, assault and intimidation, and, in some cases,  killings.

In Lucknow, 12-year-old Unaiz Khan was shot dead at point-blank range on March 2nd, after visiting a friend following iftar; the main accused has been sent to juvenile court. In Bihar’s Madhubani district, in the first week of March, Roshan Khatoon was allegedly lynched by a mob after she approached a village head for help in a dispute, tied to a pole, assaulted, and forced to consume degrading substances before succumbing to her injuries.

In a separate incident in Darbhanga, 65-year-old Abdul Salam was allegedly beaten to death on March 8 with an iron rod after objecting to abusive remarks against Muslims during a local altercation. In Uttar Pradesh’s Ghazipur, 60-year-old Aas Mohammad was alllegedly shot dead following a dispute that escalated during Holi celebrations on March 8. The accused and his associates have been detained. Taken together, these cases reflect how routine interactions, visiting a friend, resolving disputes, or passing through public spaces  turned fatal.

On 2nd March, in the early hours of Ramzan, 28-year-old Aamir Khan was shot dead near Bhiwadi in Rajasthan. His family says he had nothing to do with cattle transport; he was a truck driver who had stopped near a mosque, just after having his suhoor, preparing to fast for the day.  “He was planning to offer namaz,” says his uncle, Mohammad Zubair Khan.

That night, Aamir had taken a small pickup vehicle instead of his usual truck because of the cold. He was accompanied by another young man. They were parked on the roadside, in front of the mosque, waiting.

Around the same time, a chase was underway nearby, allegedly between cattle transporters and members of Bajrang Dal. “What happened is that these people were chasing another vehicle,” Zubair says. “But they mistook Aamir’s vehicle for theirs.”

According to the family and eyewitness accounts, a group of 10–12 men arrived in multiple vehicles, rammed into Aamir’s pickup from behind, and opened fire. “They fired 5–6 rounds,” Zubair says. “One bullet hit my nephew in the head.”

It was only after the shooting, he adds, that they realised they had targeted the wrong vehicle. “When they understood this was not the one they were chasing, they ran away.”

The other boy with Aamir managed to escape into the mosque amid the chaos. Disoriented, he initially believed the police had detained them and called the family to inform them something had gone wrong. It was only hours later, after frantic calls and visits to multiple police stations, that the truth emerged.

“We were told two boys had been picked up,” Zubair recalls. “One was in custody. The other had been taken to the hospital.”

The family initially believed Aamir had been injured, perhaps shot in the leg. But when a relative finally reached the hospital and gained access, they were told his body had already been moved to the mortuary. “When our boy saw him there, he called us crying and all he could say was ‘Aamir has been killed’.” 

Aamir was the eldest of nine siblings and the sole earning member of his family. His father, often unwell, could no longer work regularly. His mother is a homemaker. The family depended entirely on Aamir’s income.

“If he earned, the house ran. Now there is nothing,” says Zubair.

He had been planning his sister’s wedding after Eid. He leaves behind a young wife and a two-year-old daughter. “When someone asks her where her father is, she points upwards and says, ‘He has gone up’,” Zubair says.  

The family buried him the same day, after the postmortem. The postmortem report, a copy of which Outlook has seen, indicates that Aamir died from a gunshot injury, with a punctured wound on the left side and severe damage to the brain, including fractures and tearing. The injury was fatal and caused death within a short time, likely within hours of being shot. 

According to a police official in Chopanki Police Station, in Bhiwadi Rajasthan, an FIR has been registered under charges of murder against “unknown persons,” with officials stating that the case is still under investigation. 

“Right now, the investigation is ongoing. Only after proper questioning will we be able to confirm anything. At this stage, these are only suspects,” an officer said. The initial version recorded by the police describes the incident as one involving “alleged cattle smugglers,” where “one vehicle was being followed by vehicles of so-called cow vigilantes,” leading to a collision in which “a person was found injured inside a vehicle” and later died. While the FIR invokes Section 302 (murder), no arrests had been made at the time of reporting. “We are searching for them… we have conducted raids at their homes, but they are not there,” the officer added, maintaining that action would follow once the accused are traced.

Cow vigilantes under the scanner

In the days that followed, Zubair says they learned more about what had happened that night, from local inquiries and from those who had been part of the chase. “There is a system,” he claims. “These people track vehicles. There is a monthly arrangement. If money is paid, they let them go. If not, they chase them.”

But he is unequivocal about one thing: Aamir was not part of that world. “He was just standing there,” Zubair says. “He had nothing to do with it. He was killed because they made a mistake.”

The claim has been reaffirmed to Outlook by the survivor, Mohammad Mursaleen, who was with Aamir when the incident happened, describing a system that rarely enters official records but shapes the roads they travel.

“When Gau Taskirs (cow smugglers) pay them, they don’t say anything,” he says. “When they don’t, they (Gau Rakshaks)  fire bullets, catch us, break our arms and legs.”

He describes “around 50 places” along routes in Haryana and Rajasthan, Rewari, Bhiwadi, Dharuhera, where payments are allegedly extracted. “Somewhere between Rs. 5,000 to 10,000 is charged," he says. “Otherwise, they stop you everywhere.”

Aasif Mujtaba, a minority rights activist and researcher, argues that cow vigilantism today operates far beyond its stated purpose, functioning as a system that disproportionately targets Muslims, particularly those engaged in transport and trade. What appears on the surface as sporadic enforcement is, in many places, structured and sustained, marked by surveillance of routes, interception of vehicles, and, at times, coercion and violence. “What you are seeing in places like Haryana is not random, it’s an organised nexus. There is collusion between vigilante groups, local networks, and, at times, the police. Cattle are intercepted, money is taken, and the same networks control parts of the trade.”

For those on the road, especially drivers, this has translated into a daily calculus of risk. Informal arrangements, route adjustments, and constant vigilance have become part of the job. “Cow vigilantism is no longer about cows. It has become a tool to control, extort, and target Muslims on highways and in trade.”

At the heart of this, Mujtaba says, is the role of the state, both in action and in inaction. “There is a state which is behind you through all its machinery, whether active or passive, to support you,” he says, arguing that this creates a sense of protection for those carrying out violence.  “The line between vigilantes and authority has blurred in many places. That is what makes these incidents so dangerous.”

From private to public assertion

If Ramzan has been tense, the days leading up to Ram Navami have added another layer of anxiety.

In Mumbai’s Malvani area in Malad West, communal tensions flared late on March 25, over the installation of saffron flags near a mosque. What began as objections quickly escalated into a standoff between two groups in a narrow lane lit by green mosque lights, with crowds gathering and arguments intensifying before police intervened.

The incident was contained. But it underscored how quickly symbolic assertions, flags, routes, slogans, can turn into flashpoints.

To many, this is now a familiar pattern. In recent years, Hindu festivals in India, particularly Ram Navami, are increasingly being accompanied by anti-Muslim violence, often triggered when armed processions pass through Muslim neighbourhoods raising provocative slogans. 

Data compiled by civil rights groups suggests that Ram Navami has, in recent years, become one of the key moments for communal mobilisation.

A report by the Association for Protection of Civil Rights (APCR), which tracked hate crimes during the first year of the Modi government’s third term, found that religious festivals, including Ram Navami, were repeatedly linked to spikes in violence.

In April 2025, when Ram Navami overlapped with other religious observances, there were 96 documented hate crimes and hate speech incidents in that month alone, according to APCR. In several cities, Mumbai, Jodhpur, and others, processions were linked to violence targeting Muslims. Mosques were vandalised, and inflammatory displays were paraded through public spaces.

The report describes a broader pattern: festivals becoming “battlegrounds of targeted violence.”

Experts say that there has been a role of authorities, where at times Muslims have been “disproportionately targeted”, through arrests, demolitions, or public punishment. 

Historian Irfan Habib traces a shift in how Ram Navami itself is observed. According to Habib, it was once a largely private, devotional occasion. “Ram Navami was never like this,” he says. “As a child, even 20 years ago, I never heard of it as a festival with such a strong public presence.”

Habib is careful to draw a line between celebration and weaponisation. This transformation, from a relatively quiet religious observance to a highly visible, often processional event, has coincided with an increase in reported communal tensions during the festival. “Now, when it is being done, it is being done with a plan, that you have to project Ram in a certain way in the public sphere,” he says, adding that “you cannot celebrate Ram Navami by hating others.”

Habib goes further, calling it “a concerted campaign.”

“This is not something which has happened suddenly,” he says. “People are vilified for no reason. Sometimes there is no reason at all, but it is still done.” He frames it as part of a broader politics of “othering”, where violence, intimidation, and even false accusations become tools to mark a community as suspect.

India’s strength, says Habib, has always been its diversity, something that is now being turned into a fault line. “You cannot have a garden with flowers of just one colour. It is the diversity of colours that attracts you.” 

Mujtaba argues that the recent surge in violence cannot be understood as a series of isolated incidents, but must be seen as part of a larger, systemic pattern. “There is a need to introspect the rise in hate crime holistically rather than focusing on some isolated incident somewhere in UP, somewhere in Madhya Pradesh or somewhere in Assam,” he says. 

Across states, he points to a similar pattern in how violence unfolds and is responded to. “Muslims are provoked, subjected to a cycle of violence and humiliation, and then often end up being the ones arrested,” he adds, citing examples where attacks occurred in the presence of police, but action was taken against victims instead.

He also points to stark inconsistencies in enforcement, noting how Muslim religious practices are often policed differently. “The way police behave when Muslims offer namaz on the road for 10 minutes and the way it behaves when highways are blocked for days during other religious events, you can see the difference. It sends a clear signal about who is protected.” 

In his view, festivals and public events increasingly act as flashpoints: “In the context of Ramzan or Ram Navami, you see how easily local tensions are turned into confrontation,” reflecting a broader environment where, he says, “violence is not accidental, it is enabled.”