Editorial

The demolition of the Babri Masjid on December 6, 1992, remains an unhealed wound in India’s secular fabric, a day when law, order, and constitutional morality were willfully sacrificed at the altar of majoritarian fervor. It was not a spontaneous outburst but a meticulously orchestrated act of political vandalism that shattered the nation’s faith in its own covenant of pluralism.

The events of that day represented a profound institutional failure. The state apparatus, duty-bound to protect a centuries-old structure—regardless of its disputed history—stood by as a frenzied mob reduced it to rubble. This was not merely the destruction of a mosque; it was an assault on the very idea of India as a democratic republic where the rule of law prevails over mob rule. The subsequent communal riots that engulfed the nation, claiming thousands of lives, were a direct and tragic consequence, exposing the deep fissures within society.

Politically, the demolition was billed as a symbolic reclamation, but its true legacy is one of lasting polarization. It entrenched a politics of historical grievance and religious identity, shifting the national discourse from development and unity to division and revisionism. The act cynically prioritized electoral calculus over national harmony, setting a dangerous precedent where mob violence could dictate historical and political outcomes.

Three decades later, the ghost of December 6 continues to haunt us. While the Supreme Court’s 2019 verdict attempted judicial closure, awarding the land for a temple and an alternate plot for a mosque, it could not deliver moral justice or societal reconciliation. The demolition exposed the vulnerability of India’s secular institutions to majoritarian pressure and highlighted the perils of rewriting history through violence.

The true atonement lies not in stone and mortar, but in a collective recommitment to the Constitution. It demands a political culture that respects religious sentiment without capitulating to intimidation, and a public conscience that remembers December 6 not as a victory, but as a tragic compromise of the nation’s soul. For India to truly prosper, it must ensure that the laws of the land are never again held hostage to the whims of the mob. The silence of that day’s broken pillars still echoes a warning we dare not ignore.

In India’s socio-political landscape, 6 December carries a rare and unsettling duality. On this day in 1956, Dr. Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar—architect of the Indian Constitution, champion of social justice, and the most powerful voice of the Bahujan movement—passed away. And on the same date in 1992, the Babri Masjid was demolished by a mob, striking at the core of India’s secular identity and its constitutional morality. For many scholars and social thinkers, this overlap is not a mere coincidence; it is viewed as a deliberate political choice—an attempt to overshadow the legacy of one historic pillar by the noise and chaos created by another event.

Dr. Ambedkar’s Pari Nirvan Divas is a day that symbolizes the soul of the Bahujan struggle—equality, dignity, rationality, and liberation. His vision was unmistakably clear: India must be governed not by majoritarian impulses but by constitutional ethics that safeguard the weakest. The demolition of the Babri Masjid represents the exact opposite—a moment when mob frenzy triumphed over the rule of law, when political gains eclipsed justice, and when India’s secular fabric came under its gravest assault.

Placed side by side, the two images of 6 December expose a stark contrast: Ambedkar’s India, rooted in reason and justice, versus the India of majoritarian aggression. Many analysts argue that choosing this date for mobilization was symbolic—a strategic attempt to “overwrite” a day that belonged to Ambedkar’s moral legacy with an event that fuelled a new majoritarian narrative. As a result, Pari Nirvan Divas slowly receded from mainstream media attention and public discourse, while the politics of the Babri demolition became a launchpad for the rise of Hindu Rashtra ideology.

Today, as India faces intensified polarization, 6 December stands as a reminder that the nation is at a crossroads—caught between two competing visions of its future. One path leads to Ambedkar’s India: a republic of equality, constitutional morality, and social justice. The other path veers toward a nation where mob sentiment overrides constitutional safeguards, and identity becomes a tool of political dominance.

Thus, 6 December is not merely a remembrance of two events. It is a mirror reflecting the struggle over India’s soul. It asks an urgent and uncomfortable question: Will India choose the constitutional nation imagined by Ambedkar, or will it slip into a future where the power of the crowd outweighs the sanctity of the Constitution?

• SAS Kirmani