The right to die with dignity—and to be laid to rest in accordance with one's faith—is not just a constitutional guarantee. It is the most basic mark of a civilised society. When a grieving family is denied that right and a dead body becomes a battleground for religious supremacy, what is being truly buried is humanity.

What is unfolding all over India, especially in tribal dominant areas, over the past few years is not an anomaly. It is part of a deliberate, organised, and deeply shameful campaign to reduce religious minorities—particularly tribal Christians—into second-class citizens, even in death. This is the true face of Hindutva.

It should be called by its proper name: communal fascism. When villagers are mobilised to block burials, when families are told to "convert" their dead to Hinduism and when women are assaulted for insisting on Christian rites, this is not a community protecting culture—it is a mob enforcing caste hierarchies and religious hegemony.

It is no coincidence that most of these victims are Adivasis and Dalits—groups historically targeted by caste oppression and now by the poison of Hindutva politics.

The repeated denial of burial to Christian families is not about land or tradition. It is about asserting Brahmanical control over life and death. It is a grotesque echo of untouchability, resurrected in the 21st century with saffron flags and political backing.

In village after village, the pattern is the same. A tribal Christian dies. The family is threatened, coerced, and sometimes beaten. The body lies unattended, decomposing, while police and officials watch passively—or worse, collaborate with the aggressors.

Burial is denied not only on common grounds but also on private land. In many cases, the dead are forcibly exhumed or buried far from home, like criminals cast into exile. What moral vacuum must one inhabit to treat a grieving family this way?

The Hindutva brigade calls itself the custodian of Indian culture. But what culture defiles a corpse? What values does it promote when it demands conversion of the dead? The truth is that Hindutva is not rooted in spirituality or ethics. It is a political project—cheap, cruel, and cowardly. It survives not by elevating Hinduism but by weaponising it against the weak.

The state and the law, too, are complicit. When the police delay action, when officials cite "procedural gaps" while families flee for safety, they are not neutral—they are enabling persecution. Their silence gives license to mobs. Their inaction is betrayal.

A country is judged by how it treats its most vulnerable—not just in life but also in death. The judgement is clear: we are failing. We must ask ourselves—how long will we stay silent as bodies rot on our conscience?