In a move that underscores deepening fault lines in India’s fractious debate over religious freedom, the Akhil Bharatiya Sant Samiti, a powerful Hindu saints’ body aligned with right-wing groups, filed an intervention petition in the Supreme Court on Thursday, seeking to bolster defenses of state laws aimed at curbing what it calls “unlawful and forceful conversions.”
The plea, moved just days after the outfit’s fiery public condemnation of the apex court’s decision to centralise challenges to these controversial laws enacted by various state governments, lays bare a broader ideological crusade: a push to shield Hindu majoritarianism from perceived demographic threats, even as critics decry the laws as tools for harassment and constitutional overreach.
The petition, submitted through advocate Atulesh Kumar, directly contests a slew of writs filed by activists and minority groups against anti-conversion legislation in BJP-ruled states, including the Uttarakhand Freedom of Religion Act, 2018; the Uttar Pradesh Prohibition of Unlawful Conversion of Religion Act, 2021; the Himachal Pradesh Freedom of Religion Act, 2019; and the Madhya Pradesh Freedom of Religion Act, 2021.
These statutes, enacted amid rising Hindu nationalist fervor since Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) consolidated power in 2014, impose stringent penalties—up to 10 years in jail and hefty fines—for conversions deemed induced by “force, fraud, allurement, or undue influence,” often triggered by interfaith marriages.
Offenders face tough bail conditions and mandatory prior approvals from district magistrates, provisions that opponents argue criminalise personal choice and invade privacy.
The Samiti’s intervention arrives against the backdrop of the Supreme Court’s September 2025 order transferring dozens of pending High Court challenges to itself, a consolidation aimed at uniform adjudication but lambasted by Hindu hardliners as judicial overreach.
In 2023, a bench led by then-Chief Justice D Y Chandrachud had flagged the proliferation of such pleas—five in Allahabad High Court, seven in Madhya Pradesh High Court, two each in Gujarat and Jharkhand, three in Himachal Pradesh, and one apiece in Karnataka and Uttarakhand—urging a “common petition” for transfer to avert fragmented rulings.
By September this year, Chief Justice B R Gavai’s bench, alongside Justice K Vinod Chandran, issued notices to nine states (Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Chhattisgarh, Gujarat, Haryana, Jharkhand, and Karnataka), deferring stay requests until state replies are filed.
The court has even sought views from states without such laws, drawing ire for what seers term an “extraneous” expansion of scope.
At the heart of the Samiti’s plea is a staunch defense of the laws as “procedural safeguards narrowly tailored to verify voluntariness and deter coercion or fraud.”
Arguing that Article 25’s guarantee of freedom to “propagate” religion does not extend to a right to convert others, the outfit asserts the statutes impose no “prior restraint” on genuine, informed choices.
“The impugned enactments do not forbid voluntary conversion based on free and informed choice,” the petition states, emphasizing they target only vitiated acts like sham marriages or undue influence.
It seeks to join as a party respondent, urging the court to accept its written submissions to counter what it portrays as “misguided” assaults on protective measures.
This legal salvo follows a blistering joint press conference on October 9, 2025, where Swami Jitendrananda Saraswati Maharaj, general secretary of the All India Sant Samiti, unleashed a torrent of criticism against the Supreme Court.
Flanked by Mahant Rajendra Das Maharaj, president of Nirmohi Ani Akhara and general secretary of the Akhara Parishad, and Surendra Jain, joint general secretary of the RSS affiliated Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP), the seer announced a nationwide campaign to foment “public debate” on a provocative question: “Whether elected representatives of the people will enact laws in the country or the judges.”
“Illegal religious conversion is not an ordinary issue. It’s about demographic changes and the country’s unity and integrity,” Saraswati thundered, invoking post-Independence calls in the Constituent Assembly for a central anti-conversion law, thwarted by the then-ruling Congress party’s deference to states’ rights.
Saraswati’s rhetoric harks back to centuries-old grievances, framing conversions as a lingering scar from Mughal invasions that “set up their empire” through coercive Islamization, fueling enduring Hindu-Muslim tensions.
He drew parallels to a Supreme Court petition, filed by Swami Dayanand Saraswati in the past, demanding temple liberation from state control, where the court deferred to state jurisdiction, questioning why anti-conversion matters—purely “state government” affairs—warrant centralised scrutiny.
“The circumstances of every state are different, and the nature of their laws and the grounds for opposing them are also different. How all these matters can be heard together is beyond anyone’s understanding,” he fumed, decrying the inclusion of states sans such laws as baffling overreach.
The seers’ intervention is no isolated gambit but part of a long-arc battle waged by Hindu outfits, with RSS backing, to halt what they decry as “demographic jihad” or “love jihad”—conspiratorial narratives alleging organized efforts by Muslims and Christians to erode Hindu primacy through interfaith unions and proselytization.
Since the BJP’s ascent, at least 12 BJP-governed states have enacted or toughened such laws, with Uttar Pradesh’s 2024 amendments expanding third-party complaints and penalties, drawing fresh Supreme Court scrutiny in May 2025.
Rajasthan, under new BJP Chief Minister Bhajan Lal Sharma, tabled its own bill in early 2025, pledging adherence to court guidelines pending enactment.
Yet, enforcement has been a double-edged sword: while proponents hail curbs on “force, fraud, and allurement,” human rights monitors document rampant misuse against minorities.
Opposition comes fiercely from groups like Jamiat Ulama-i-Hind, which in January 2023 petitioned the Supreme Court against the laws in Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Gujarat, Uttarakhand, and Himachal Pradesh, branding them mechanisms to “harass interfaith couples and implicate them in criminal cases.”
The Muslim body’s plea highlights privacy invasions—forcing faith disclosures under Sections like 12 of the Himachal Pradesh Act—and vague definitions of “allurement” encompassing promises of “divine displeasure” or salvation, chilling religious propagation under Article 25. “Scrutiny by the state of such a personal decision is a grave assault on personal liberty,” it argues, citing data: within a month of Uttar Pradesh’s 2021 ordinance, 14 FIRs were filed, only two from victims, the rest by disgruntled kin. Christian advocates echo these alarms.
In July 2025, the Supreme Court stayed Uttar Pradesh’s 2024 amendments after a petition by Alliance Defending Freedom India, noting their weaponisation against prayer meetings and faith gatherings, with 301 of 731 anti-Christian incidents in 2023 traced to the state.
A landmark October 2025 ruling quashed multiple FIRs in Fatehpur for “legal flaws and lack of evidence,” terming continued prosecutions a “travesty of justice.”
The Madhya Pradesh High Court, in a 2025 order, upheld secularism but refused to quash an FIR against a Protestant pastor, amid allegations of BJP tacit support for vigilante violence.
The Supreme Court’s evolving stance reflects this tension. In September 2025, CJI Gavai’s bench grilled a petitioner seeking a blanket ban on “deceitful” conversions, probing: “Who will decide that a religious conversion is ‘deceitful’?”
It refused a 2023 plea to refer “forcible conversion” to the Law Commission as a separate IPC offense, emphasising balance between propagation rights and state regulation.
Yet, precedents like Rev. Stainislaus v. State of Madhya Pradesh (1977) upheld early laws, while Shafin Jahan v. Asokan K.M. (2018) affirmed conversion via marriage as a privacy right absent fraud.
Critics, including senior advocate Rebecca John, warn the laws enable “persecution,” with Hindu radicals filing baseless complaints to intimidate minorities.
For Hindu seers, the stakes transcend law: they embody a reclamation narrative.
Saraswati, at the October presser, condemned a recent shoe-throwing attempt at CJI Gavai as “indecent” democratic dissent, while branding Indians abroad criticising the nation as “traitors”—a nod to backlash against opposition figures’ overseas barbs.
The VHP’s Jain reiterated conversions threaten “spiritual and cultural diversity,” announcing temple-linked drives to amplify the campaign.
As the Supreme Court lists the batch of petitions for hearing post-replies, the intervention injects fresh volatility.
Child rights groups and interfaith advocates fear escalation of “love jihad” vigilantism, with 2024-25 seeing spikes in lynchings and church attacks tied to conversion rumors.
Constitutional scholars like those at Citizens for Justice and Peace argue the laws flout Article 21’s dignity protections, echoing K.S. Puttaswamy (2017) on privacy.
In Rajasthan’s villages or Uttar Pradesh’s urban sprawl, the laws’ shadow looms large: a Hindu woman wedding a Muslim man faces familial FIRs; a pastor’s Bible study becomes a “mass conversion” probe.
The Samiti’s plea, if admitted, could rally right-wing forces, but it risks amplifying calls for a national ban—long a BJP fringe demand, now whispered in corridors of power.
With Modi’s government hemmed by Article 25’s freedoms, the judiciary remains the fulcrum.
For now, the seers’ gambit tests whether faith’s fervor can override the Constitution’s secular bulwark, or if India’s pluralist ethos endures another trial by fire.
