In the wake of the tragic terrorist attack in Pahalgam, Jammu and Kashmir, a disturbing pattern is emerging—not just in the streets or along the borders, but in India’s courtrooms, police stations, and digital spaces. Rather than confronting the root causes of extremism or addressing lapses in security, the state has turned its gaze inward, cracking down on those who dare to speak truth to power, and demand accountability for their “lapses”. Artist Neha Singh Rathore, known for her bold Bhojpuri satire, and feminist academic Dr Madri Kakoti, better known online as Dr Medusa on X (formerly Twitter), now face FIRs for merely expressing their views—criticising the state’s response in light of the Pahalgam terror attack, and questioning the broader culture of impunity. More than anything, both have sharply questioned, in their respective and inimitable styles, government role in (not) responding to intelligence warnings of a possible terror attack.
But they are not alone. In Lucknow, the newsroom of 4 PM, a digital Hindi-language outlet known for its critical reporting on the government, was forcibly taken off YouTube. Its editor, Sanjay Sharma, told Newslaudry that he had been asking government questions regarding national security, especially after the Pahalgam terror attack. Together, these incidents point to a growing climate of fear, where artistic expression, academic freedom, and independent journalism are seen as threats to national order rather than pillars of a healthy democracy.
The cases of Rathore, Kakoti, and 4 PM are not isolated. They are symptoms of a systemic assault on free speech, emboldened by a new legal regime—the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita—that revives colonial-era sedition in a new, more ambiguous form. This is not just about individual persecution. It is about the shrinking space for dissent in today’s India—and the urgent need to defend it.
‘Sedition’ for singing truths: Folk singer Neha Singh Rathore targeted
In a striking example of the state’s growing hostility towards dissenters and cultural voices that challenge official narratives, Bhojpuri folk singer Neha Singh Rathore has been booked under charges of sedition and digital offences in Uttar Pradesh for her social media posts on the April 22 terror attack in Pahalgam. The charges come under Section 152 of the newly implemented Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), which criminalises acts “endangering the sovereignty, unity and integrity of India”, and under various sections of the Information Technology Act, 2000.
The FIR, registered at Hazratganj police station in Lucknow, stems from a complaint by one Abhay Pratap Singh. The complaint claims that Rathore’s posts could provoke communal tensions and alleges that her content is being picked up and circulated by social media handles associated with Pakistani political organisations. That a popular singer known for biting social satire has been accused of jeopardising national unity, based on speculation that Pakistani accounts shared her video, lays bare the sheer fragility of the state’s definition of “security” and “sovereignty”.
What did Rathore say? Legitimate questions, politically inconvenient: As per a report in The Quint, the complaint focuses on three tweets by Rathore and one by an allegedly Pakistan-linked handle that reposted her video. In one tweet, Rathore raised a straightforward question:
“Modi ji was scheduled to visit Jammu on 19 April, but his trip was postponed. Three days later, on 22 April, a terrorist attack took place in Pahalgam, resulting in the death of 27 tourists. On what grounds was Modiji’s Jammu visit postponed? Was there a suspicion of a possible terrorist attack?”
Another post urged people to question the narrative and look beyond the surface:
“Who could have orchestrated such an attack? Who stands to benefit from it? Think about it, think carefully! Use common sense and tell!”
These are not inflammatory remarks but standard political commentary—critical in tone, but fully within the bounds of democratic discourse. Yet, they have been construed as seditious, dangerous, and anti-national.
The FIR also references a tweet by a Pakistani handle—believed to be affiliated with the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party—which reposted a video of Rathore where she called the Pahalgam incident “a failure of intelligence and security under the current administration” and alluded to similar historical instances where terror attacks were politically leveraged during elections.
The criminalisation of political dissent: The legal and political implications of this FIR are significant. Section 152 of the BNS, which replaces the colonial-era sedition law under the Indian Penal Code, was touted by the Union government as a modernised, rights-respecting alternative. In practice, however, the section is proving to be just as repressive, if not worse. The language of “sovereignty” and “integrity” has once again become a catch-all net to silence dissent, especially in politically sensitive moments like elections.
The FIR represents an increasingly familiar pattern in BJP-ruled states, especially Uttar Pradesh: anyone who challenges the government’s record—whether on security, governance, or civil rights—is branded a threat to national security, slapped with draconian laws, and subjected to relentless digital vilification. That this treatment is being meted out to a folk singer whose platform is built on satire, regional culture, and grassroots issues, shows just how wide the net of repression has been cast.
Neha Singh Rathore hits back: Rathore, undeterred, released a strong video statement on X (formerly Twitter), accusing the state of using legal intimidation to deflect from its failures:
“The government wants to divert attention by filing an FIR against me. This is not so difficult to understand. If you have the guts, go get the heads of those terrorists. Don’t put the blame of your failure on me.”
She further condemned the state’s practice of penalising those who ask questions:
“Their answer to every question is sending a notice, taking away our jobs, filing FIRs, getting us abused, scaring us, and humiliating us. If you call this politics, then what is dictatorship?”
In response to the coordinated outrage from the BJP IT cell, Rathore clarified that she has deep personal ties to the armed forces:
“They’re calling me anti-national because a Pakistani handle copied my video. Fourteen members of my family have served in the Indian Army and paramilitary forces. My brother is fighting Naxalites in Chhattisgarh and my uncle fought in the Kargil war.”
Her response not only highlights the absurdity of the charges against her but also exposes the selective patriotism of those who weaponise nationalism to silence dissent.
A pattern of targeting: This is not Rathore’s first brush with the law. In July 2023, she faced legal action for posting a cartoon on the horrifying Madhya Pradesh urination incident, where a dominant-caste man was seen urinating on a tribal labourer. Earlier in February 2023, she was served a notice by Kanpur Police for allegedly promoting enmity through the second version of her viral song ‘UP Mein Ka Ba’.
Her songs—rooted in Bhojpuri folk tradition—focus on social issues like unemployment, corruption, gender violence, the dowry system, and declining cultural values. Unlike the sanitised and often apolitical mainstream media and music industry, Rathore’s work is a rare voice of resistance, using wit and melody to speak truth to power.
Her 2020 hit ‘Bihar Mein Ka Ba’ and its 2022 counterpart ‘UP Mein Ka Ba’ gained massive traction precisely because they reflected the frustrations of ordinary people under a regime increasingly allergic to criticism.
Free speech or treason? A dangerous precedent: The booking of Neha Singh Rathore should worry anyone who values free speech, artistic expression, and the right to question authority. It illustrates how the new legal architecture under the BNS is no less authoritarian than the old colonial codes it claims to replace. Vague provisions like Section 152 are now being used not to protect India’s sovereignty, but to shield a powerful ruling party from public scrutiny—especially in moments when its security apparatus appears compromised.
Rather than launching a credible investigation into the Pahalgam attack, the state has found it more convenient to redirect public attention by persecuting artists and intellectuals. By doing so, it reframes criticism as subversion, dissent as sedition, and legitimate questions as threats to national integrity.
Neha Singh Rathore’s case is not an isolated incident—it is a warning. A democracy that cannot tolerate a folk song, a tweet, or a video is no longer secure in its foundations. And when the law is wielded not to protect citizens but to silence them, the real danger to the nation lies not in dissenting voices, but in those who seek to extinguish them.
Targeting the Professor: Dr Medusa booked for ‘sedition’ over social media posts
In a chilling development that underscores the shrinking space for academic and political dissent in India, an FIR has been filed against Dr Madri Kakoti—popularly known as “Dr Medusa” on social media—for posts questioning state actions following the terror attack in Pahalgam. The charges, filed at Hasanganj police station in Lucknow, include sedition-like provisions under the newly enacted Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, as well as offences under the Information Technology Act, 2000.
Dr Kakoti, an Assistant Professor in the Department of Linguistics at Lucknow University and a widely followed political commentator online, is accused of posts that allegedly threaten India’s “unity, integrity and sovereignty.” The complaint, filed by Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) leader Jatin Shukla, claims she routinely uses terms such as “saffron terrorists” and that her remarks are being picked up by Pakistani social media handles like @PTI_Promotion—ironically the same handle cited in the FIR against singer Neha Singh Rathore earlier.
The posts that sparked the storm: Dr Kakoti’s recent posts have focused on the alleged atrocities committed against Kashmiris in the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack, and she has openly demanded the resignation of Home Minister Amit Shah for what she describes as an “unforgivable failure” of national security. Her posts include commentary on state excesses in Kashmir, communal impunity, and the co-option of terrorism for electoral benefit.
While her critique is deeply political and sharply worded, it falls squarely within the realm of democratic free speech and academic independence—particularly in a country where public discourse is constitutionally protected under Article 19(1)(a). Yet, the FIR alleges that her intent is to provoke unrest and “incite riots.” Such extrapolations from political critique to criminal conspiracy reflect an increasingly draconian trend.
Campus protests and disciplinary action: As her posts gained traction, ABVP-led student protests erupted at Lucknow University, demanding her dismissal. Protesters raised slogans, submitted a memorandum to the Vice-Chancellor, and insisted that her remarks were “anti-national.” Under pressure, the University issued Dr Kakoti a show-cause notice, as per the report of Moneycontrol.com, demanding an explanation within five days and threatening disciplinary action.
This targeting of a university professor, using student mobilisation and administrative pressure, is a playbook that has become disturbingly common. Whether in the case of Delhi University’s Dr GN Saibaba, JNU’s Umar Khalid and Anirban Bhattacharya, or now Dr Kakoti, universities are being turned into battlegrounds for ideological policing.
As per Times of India, Dr Kakoti, originally from Assam and known for her pointed satire and critique of majoritarian politics, responded to the outrage by stating that “What I said is a fact and 100% correct. There is nothing wrong in this statement. It is a general one, listing crimes which fall within the definition of causing ‘terror’. I can’t really take any responsibility for someone thinking it is about them.”
Weaponising patriotism, silencing dissent: The FIR and the university’s swift disciplinary response are indicative of a deeper rot: the weaponisation of nationalism to criminalise critique, especially from voices seen as Left-leaning, secular, or resistant to the Sangh Parivar’s ideological worldview. ABVP leader Shukla told Newslaundry: “People from Leftist ideology are working to divide society and the students. They are making this issue political, when there is a situation of war between India and Pakistan and your ideology wants to create a civil war in the country itself.”
This framing—conflating dissent with disloyalty, criticism with conspiracy—is emblematic of an authoritarian approach to governance. By invoking an external enemy (Pakistan) and branding all domestic critics as internal threats, the state and its allied organisations seek to delegitimise political opposition altogether.
While the colonial-era sedition law under Section 124A of the Indian Penal Code has been suspended pending Supreme Court review, its spirit has found a new home in Section 152 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita—a catch-all provision criminalising any act seen as “endangering India’s sovereignty, unity or integrity.”
Both Dr Medusa and Neha Singh Rathore have been booked under this vague and sweeping section. That their posts were allegedly shared by a Pakistani social media handle has been used to bolster charges of sedition—a dubious logic that essentially gives foreign propaganda the power to criminalise Indian citizens.
Silencing dissent: Blocking 4PM news channel on YouTube over ‘national security’ concerns
In a fresh blow to press freedom and digital journalism in India, the YouTube news channel 4PM has been blocked in the country following a government order citing concerns related to “national security or public order.” The move, which lacks transparency and a clear public justification, marks yet another instance of the state using opaque mechanisms to silence critical voices in the media space—particularly those asking uncomfortable questions.
The ban, communicated to the channel’s editor-in-chief Sanjay Sharma via email from YouTube on Tuesday morning as per Newslaundry, comes shortly after 4PM published a series of videos critically analysing the government’s handling of the Pahalgam terror attack. Sharma, a veteran journalist, has stated that the channel’s intention was not to undermine national interest but to hold the government accountable in a democratic manner.
Coverage that asked tough questions: Although the exact video or post that led to the blocking remains unspecified, the report of Newslaundry provided that 4PM had recently uploaded content with headlines such as:
- “Pahalgam hamle ka khul gaya raaz. Raaton raat kya hua ki hat gayi sena?”
- “Laal kaaleen par Amit Shah ka swaagat. Mritakon ko shraddhanjali dene gaye the ya tamasha banaane?”
These pointed headlines reflect the channel’s critical editorial line: questioning the sudden security lapses in Pahalgam, the removal of troops before the attack, and the political spectacle surrounding Home Minister Amit Shah’s visit to pay tributes to the victims.
Rather than engage with these questions, the government has seemingly opted for the digital equivalent of a blackout. At the time of writing, visitors to 4PM’s YouTube page are met with a notice that reads:
“This content is currently unavailable in this country because of an order from the government related to national security or public order.”
Opaque process, no due process: The removal of 4PM comes under the ambit of Rule 16 of the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021, which allows the central government to issue blocking orders in “emergency” situations without providing the affected parties an opportunity to be heard beforehand. While the rules allow for post-facto hearings, critics argue this is largely a formality—especially when platforms comply without questioning or publicising the takedown.
No formal notice from the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology (MeitY) has been made public. The lack of transparency, both from the government and from YouTube, raises serious concerns about the misuse of national security as a blanket justification to suppress journalism that challenges the ruling dispensation.
A pattern of digital censorship: This is not an isolated incident. Over the past few years, India has seen a sharp rise in the blocking of YouTube channels, Twitter accounts, and news content critical of the central government, especially during sensitive moments such as the farmers’ protests, the Delhi riots, and the abrogation of Article 370 in Kashmir. Often, the reasoning given involves “public order” or “national interest”—but without explanation or recourse.
According to the Google Transparency Report of 2023, India has been among the top five countries in the world for government content takedown requests, with hundreds of URLs blocked citing national security. , these incidents signal a coordinated suppression of dissent in the digital sphere, particularly when it arises from independent or alternative media sources.
Democracy and the “Right to Know” at stake: 4PM is not a major corporate media house but a regional digital-first outlet with multiple sub-channels such as 4PM UP and 4PM Rajasthan. Its success lies in its direct communication with ordinary citizens, often bypassing mainstream narratives to highlight local grievances, administrative lapses, and political controversies. In doing so, it fulfils the media’s constitutional role of holding power to account.
By labelling such journalism as a threat to national security, the government not only criminalises scrutiny but also undermines the public’s right to information—a right enshrined in Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution.
Conclusion: Policing speech, protecting power
The FIRs against Neha Singh Rathore and Dr Madri Kakoti, alongside the silencing of 4 PM, are not aberrations—they are part of a broader architecture of repression where dissent is equated with disloyalty, and grief is permitted only if it conforms to the state’s narrative. These actions came in the wake of the Pahalgam terror attack, a horrifying incident that claimed the lives of Indian soldiers and civilians. In moments like these, public mourning must be accompanied by public inquiry. People must be allowed to ask: How did such a breach happen in a heavily militarised zone? Were there lapses in intelligence? What accountability mechanisms are in place?
Instead of facilitating such democratic introspection, the state has chosen to clamp down on voices that seek it. Rathore’s Bhojpuri poem and Kakoti’s social media post did what responsible citizens should do in a constitutional democracy—they questioned state preparedness and response. Their criminalisation reveals a dangerous tendency: the shifting of focus from state failures to citizen ‘offences’.
Under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, with its vague and expansive clauses like Section 152, the state is increasingly equipped to prosecute dissent under the guise of protecting sovereignty. But as history shows, suppressing uncomfortable questions in the name of national security rarely leads to genuine safety—it leads to silence, impunity, and a brittle nationalism that cannot withstand scrutiny.
To defend freedom of expression today is to defend the right to grieve publicly, to question fearlessly, and to demand accountability relentlessly. The real threat to the republic is not a poem or a post—it is a government that treats questions as threats and critics as criminals. The price of dissent is rising—but so too is the cost of silence. And in the face of terror, it is not silence but scrutiny that keeps a democracy alive.
Courtesy: Sabrang India
