Love Jihad, Ghar Wapsi: How to Weaponise Women's Lives

My friend, an up-and-coming comedian in India, picked me up for breakfast and we headed to an incredible South Indian restaurant.

As we drove, the scenery around us began to shift noticeably. We started in West Bandra, an affluent area filled with cute cafes but, oddly enough, barely any pavements—do we not need them guys? 

bombay 2024, taken my me

As we ventured further, the neighbourhood began to change and reveal differences, vividly showcasing distinct social classes. The buildings, businesses, even the people reflected each area. My friend, deeply familiar with the nuances of these neighbourhoods, began pointing out the disparities. Gesturing out the window, he said, “Rez, that’s a Muslim ghetto. You know about Jewish ghettos, right? Yeah, the same thing is happening to Muslims here. It’s messed up.”

"That’s insane. What’s housing like for Muslims here?" I asked.

"It’s nearly impossible to get decent housing unless you know someone. My landlord is Muslim, and we get along just fine but it’s not easy," he replied.

"And in the south?" I asked. "I’ve met quite a few Muslim business owners there—like the guys from that gorgeous home shop."

"Yeah, Rez, they’re old money. They’re completely unaffected by all this. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest," he said.

During my time in India, being Muslim came up frequently. People were curious—asking how religious I am, whether I only date Muslims, my thoughts on the broader socio-political landscape and even if I felt safe in India. These questions surfaced almost daily in Bombay, often sparking conversations with a variety of people eager to hear my perspective. I noticed Indians were not shy about asking the real questions, I appreciated it to be fair. 

"You’ve heard of love jihad, though, right?" my friend asked.

"What? What do you mean?" I replied, confused.

"Yeah, it's this idea that Muslim men are systematically marrying Hindu women to convert them to Islam," he explained.

I laughed in disbelief. "What? That’s ridiculous."

"Yeah and then there’s Ghar Wapsi," he continued, "a term meaning 'homecoming' in Hindi. It’s used to describe how to convert or 'revert' individuals, especially Muslim women, back to Hinduism, which some people see as their ancestral faith." 

I stared at him for a moment before saying, "Sorry, but are you guys okay out here?"

I mean none of it makes sense at all. We continued to chat about this subject quite a bit. What my friend said really hit me. These narratives, whether they target one side or the other, place a burden on women. They reduce women to symbols—keepers of community honour, while stirring mistrust and deepening the divide between communities. And we’re left with this bizarre ideological tug-of-war.

This moral policing and so-called "correction" of beliefs doesn’t just deepen divisions in India—it robs people, especially women, of their agency. It disregards the reality that people evolve; they grow, question, and sometimes even reject religion altogether. Many of my friends in India have shared this with me, saying things like, “Yeah, we grew up Hindu, but I don’t really believe in it anymore.”

And yet, the narrative persists that women are somehow incapable of making their own choices about love, faith and life. It’s a pattern I’ve seen time and again all over the world and every time, it makes me angrier. The lack of autonomy granted to women is staggering.

It’s as though society is determined to reinforce patriarchal mindsets.

Take, for example, the idea of a woman falling in love with someone from a different background. Is that really the worst thing that could happen? Yet, even this rarely becomes a reality because of how deeply fragmented societies are. Campaigns like Ghar Wapsi and Love Jihad take these already rare relationships and sensationalise them, politicising personal lives and interfering with women’s agency even further.

The double standards in these systems are actually ridiculous too. Imagine a man in the same position—a Hindu man marrying a Muslim woman or converting to Islam. Would he face the same level of scrutiny, outrage, or interference? Almost certainly not. These societal norms reflect a clear belief: it’s acceptable to police women but not men. It’s an infuriatingly unjust system designed to deny women the right to make personal decisions, while men remain largely unchallenged.

And let’s not overlook how patronising this entire narrative is. It hinges on the assumption that women are incapable of making their own choices—that they must be tricked or coerced into falling in love, converting or even holding onto their own beliefs. 

Take something as personal as falling in love with someone from a different background or religion. It’s already a difficult enough choice. Families, friends and societal pressures often don’t agree or offer support. But despite that, some women still choose love and connection over conformity. To claim they’ve been manipulated into this is not only dismissive of their bravery but also diminishes the validity of their feelings and decisions. 

These guys are actively weaponising women’s lives. In the current political climate, especially under Modi’s rule, women’s personal choices are being twisted into propaganda tools for divisive agendas. These campaigns reduce women to mere pawns in a much larger, more insidious game, stripping them of their autonomy and sacrificing their lives for communal and political goals.

And honestly, it’s no surprise to me that India is reportedly the biggest source of fake news. I only recently learned that and it just makes sense. With the constant barrage of misinformation fueling these narratives, it’s hard not to wonder—is anything even real anymore?

We should slap Love Jihad and Ghar Wapsi  onto the same T-shirt— love is love vibes—and wear it loud and proud. Stick it to these fascist and make it clear: their hate-filled agendas have no place on this earth. Of course, these issues are complex and my observations are just one lens in a much larger conversation. But can you just let women live please? We would all benefit from a world where women are free to live authentically and without fear.

But yeah, breakfast at Café Madras was amazing. The owner was incredibly warm and friendly, absolutely gassed when he found out I’m Bengali. He immediately started talking about how his mum is Bengali too and began listing all the Bengali foods he loves. I couldn’t help but smile and say, “Me too, friend.”

After all the heavy and intense conversations earlier, it was a reminder that we’re really not so different. Moments like this—and the conversations they spark—are so valuable. I’m also really glad people like my friend have tools like comedy to tackle these tough subjects in ways that resonate.

And, of course, it reaffirmed one universal truth: Bengali mums truly are the best.

The track I’ll leave you with today is Fuck You by Lily Allen.

Love,

Rez x