The new chief justice of India, Justice Surya Kant, in his first week in office, was, in retrospect, perhaps a little too harsh in rebuking Lt Colonel Samuel Kamalesan while confirming his dismissal from the Indian army he had served loyally, but had refused to step into the inner sanctum of his regiment's multi-religion building which included a temple and a gurdwara.

The officer would routinely attend the temple when required, but believed that, as a practising Christian, participating in worship rituals would go against his religious beliefs. Christians, much like Hindus, Muslims and Buddhists, have several schools of theological understanding of faith, and it is no one's case that the colonel's argument reflects that of thousands of other Christians serving the Indian armed forces since Independence, and before that too.

But the bench of Justices Surya Kant and Joymalya Bagchi upheld his dismissal by the military authorities, and later by the High Court. So far, so good.

But Justice Kant also said Samuel Kamalesan, commissioned in 2017 into the 3rd Cavalry Regiment and commanding Sikh, Jat and Rajput soldiers, was a "complete misfit" whose conduct was "insulting the soldiers," and therefore "he should have been terminated." The colonel was sacked without pension or benefits.

This case, and Justice Kant's sentiments, may well become precedents, and not just in service cases.

The Apex court has before it several public interest litigations from religious minorities involving such issues as the rights of Dalit Christians to protection of the law and preferential benefits, the matter of the heavily weaponised and insidious anti-conversion laws in 12 states, in which hundreds of pastors have been arrested. Many of them have been rotting in jail without bail.

Religious minorities, Muslims and Christians, but also Sikhs, have, despite several adverse judgments over the years, seen the Supreme Court as the guardian of their constitutional rights, which they fear are routinely trampled or overlooked by the political and executive pillars of the state.
In 2025, their darkest fears have turned real.

The Indian Constitution was written to prevent the very things we now witness. It created a secular republic where no citizen would be reduced to second-class status because of faith, caste or tribe.

Articles 14 and 15 promised equality and non-discrimination. Article 21 guaranteed life and liberty. Articles 25-28 granted freedom of conscience, of religious practice, of religious propagation, and the right to manage religious institutions.

Seventy-five years later, for Muslims, Christians, Dalits and Adivasis, these articles read like museum pieces. The law remains formally neutral; its application has become majoritarian. This is a process visible in legislation, policing, electoral rolls, courts and forest policy.

In Uttar Pradesh, for instance, a pastor prays in a village home; a mob gathers; the police arrive and arrest the Christian for "forced conversion."
The United Christian Forum recorded 834 such incidents in 2024 and another 378 by mid-2025. The Evangelical Fellowship of India verified 640 cases in 2024 alone. Most, but not all, occur in states ruled by the Bharatiya Janata Party. The US State Department's 2023 and 2024 religious freedom reports list killings, beatings and the disruption of Sunday services.

USCIRF has recommended that India be declared a Country of Particular Concern for three consecutive years. The Ministry of External Affairs dismisses these reports as biased. The Christian community, for the record, does not support any foreign meddling in India's public affairs.

A 2023 study of Uttar Pradesh's Prohibition of Unlawful Conversion of Religion Ordinance found that every single person booked under the "love jihad" provisions was a Muslim man.

Between 2020 and 2023, there were 424 cases and three convictions. The purpose is intimidation, not prosecution. The same laws reach into tribal areas where Christianity has grown among Adivasis in Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Rajasthan, and Gujarat.

In July 2025, two Catholic nuns travelling through Chhattisgarh were detained and charged with conversion; the charges were added after the arrest. Bail came only after national protests.

Conversion, however, costs more than police harassment. Under the 1950 Presidential Order, a Dalit who becomes Christian or Muslim loses Scheduled Caste status and with it the right to reservations in education and government jobs. Caste discrimination does not disappear after conversion; only the constitutional protection does. The National Commission for Minorities confirmed this in its own study years ago. The Supreme Court, in a 2025 judgement, refused to change the position.

Land is the second battleground for Adivasis. The Forest Conservation (Amendment) Act 2023 diluted the requirement of gram sabha, or village assembly, consent for diverting forest land. UN Special Rapporteurs had already asked for a moratorium on evictions and full implementation of the Forest Rights Act 2006. Neither request has been honoured. In Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand, Christian Adivasis face a triple burden: displacement for mining or dams, criminal cases under anti-Maoist laws, and anti-conversion charges when they gather for prayer.

The third contestation is the voter rolls. In June 2025, the Election Commission began a Special Intensive Revision in Bihar. In Jehanabad district alone, the CPI(ML) found hundreds of Muslim names missing while duplicate Hindu names remained. In Kerala, the opposition leader, V D Satheesan, called the exercise politically motivated.

The Supreme Court upheld the Commission's power but directed that Aadhaar, ration cards and old voter IDs be accepted. Deletions continued. Post-election analysis showed that in eleven Bihar constituencies, the number of deleted voters exceeded the winner's margin.

Delimitation of constituencies, which can change the community spectrum in Lok Sabha and state legislatures, is due after the 2026 census. A Scroll analysis in April 2025 warned that reserved constituencies and Muslim-concentration seats will be broken up, reducing representation of Dalits, Adivasis and Muslims. The Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy noted that India has no strong safeguards against gerrymandering.

This will also impact Christians, especially in Central India. Politically barely visible even now in this region, they may be completely invisible in the next general elections and state assembly polls.

Policing is a weapon in daily use. The National Police Commission's Sixth Report in 1981 recorded "unmistakable bias" against minorities during communal violence.

Nothing has changed. India Hate Lab documented a 74 per cent increase in anti-minority hate speech in 2024, almost all in BJP-ruled states, often at events attended by ministers. The police registered few cases against the speakers. When violence follows, it is the minority neighbourhood that faces bulldozers. Human Rights Watch called this "bulldozer justice" – collective punishment without trial. The Supreme Court also decried the use of bulldozers. Still, chief ministers like UP's Yogi Adityanath and lesser leaders elsewhere continue to use the earth-mover as a weapon of choice.

The judiciary watches. In 2023, 30 of the 33 Supreme Court judges were Hindu; 1 was Muslim, 1 was Christian, and 1 was Parsi. In November 2025, after Justice Gavai's retirement, the court will have no Scheduled Tribe judge and only four from minority communities in the broader sense. The collegium system remains opaque.

Chief Justice Gavai himself warned in 2025 that judges accepting post-retirement government appointments risk tailoring their decisions to please the executive. In bail hearings involving Muslim protesters or Christian pastors, courts often take the state's narrative without scrutiny.

Citizenship procedures complete the circle. In Assam, the National Register of Citizens and Foreigners Tribunals have left lakhs of Bengali-speaking Muslims in limbo. M Mohsin Alam Bhat's research describes how formal legality is preserved while substantive citizenship is denied.
The Citizenship Amendment Act 2019 fast-tracks citizenship for non-Muslims from neighbouring countries but excludes Muslims, reinforcing the message that Muslim presence is presumptively suspect.

The Electoral Bonds scheme, struck down by the Supreme Court in February 2024, had allowed anonymous corporate donations. Data released after the judgment showed that the ruling party received the overwhelming share. Money, muscle and media now operate in an ecosystem where one community is perpetually on the defensive.

This seems to be a pattern. States that pass anti-conversion laws record the highest levels of hate speech, conduct the most aggressive voter-roll revisions, and register the fewest cases against vigilantes. The police fail to protect minorities, but are quick to arrest them. Bail is exceedingly slow.

Civil society continues to document, file cases, and speak. Pastors still pray in village homes. Adivasi women still guard their forests. Young Muslims still fall in love across community lines. But each act now carries a heavier risk than a decade ago.

The Constitution remains. Its promise has not been repealed. What has changed is the willingness of institutions to enforce it without fear or favour.

For now, India's religious minorities live with multiple swords of Damocles hanging over their heads at the sunset of 2025.