By Robert Clements
Why Only Him?
There I was, seated comfortably with a steaming cup of chai, the newspaper folded neatly by my side, when the television flashed a headline that jolted me more than the caffeine: “Supreme Court takes suo motu cognizance of MP Minister’s remarks on Army Colonel.” My ears perked up, as they do whenever I hear the words suo motu — Latin for “we’ll step in, even if nobody asks us to,” and in India, a phrase often used sparingly, like a vintage Scotch.
This time, the court had taken note of remarks made by Madhya Pradesh minister Kunwar Vijay Shah. And not just any remarks. These were directed at none other than Colonel Sofiya Qureshi, a decorated Army officer and one of the public faces during the briefing on Operation Sindoor, India’s cross-border response to terror. Shah had, in all his verbal glory, accused Colonel Qureshi of being the “sister of terrorists.”
The Supreme Court wasn’t amused. “The entire nation is ashamed,” thundered the bench. And rightly so.
But as I nodded in agreement, something itched at the back of my mind. Why only him?
Oh, don’t get me wrong. Kunwar Vijay Shah deserved every syllable of that judicial reprimand. When a sitting minister openly disparages an Army colonel based on her religion, calling her kin to terrorists while she dons the uniform and risks her life for the nation — you don’t just say sorry. You sit in the dock. Preferably for a long time.
But again, I ask: Why only him? The political landscape these days is overflowing with inflammatory rhetoric. Switch on any news channel at prime time — and you’ll see anchors spouting more aggression than an army general on rum. Attend a rally or scroll through the WhatsApp university syllabus, and you’re bound to stumble across more hate speech than meaningful policy.
So why does only one man face the music, while the rest continue orchestrating their symphonies of spite?
Let’s be honest — Vijay Shah’s mistake was being too loud in a country where bigotry is often whispered, winked at, or cloaked in the garb of nationalism. He didn’t invent the hate; he simply turned up the volume too high for the nation to ignore.
Now let’s talk about Colonel Sofiya Qureshi — the woman at the receiving end of this vitriol. She isn’t just an Army officer; she’s a symbol of secular India, where merit, not religion, earns you rank and respect. She stood before cameras alongside Wing Commander Vyomika Singh and Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri to inform the public about the military operation with poise, dignity, and calm professionalism. Her presence wasn’t political — it was patriotic.
But for Mr. Shah, her last name was more relevant than her uniform.
What’s astonishing is not that such comments were made — but that we were shocked. Because in today’s India, minority-bashing has become as routine as monsoon potholes. It’s not the exception, it’s the playlist. And it’s played at high volume across social media, stages, and sadly, even pulpits.
The only difference here is that this time, someone important was listening.
The Supreme Court’s reaction was refreshingly sharp. They didn’t just pull up Shah. They dismissed his apology as shallow. They called his remarks “crass,” and ordered a Special Investigation Team (SIT) to probe the issue. Even the Madhya Pradesh High Court described his words as “language from the gutters” and ordered an FIR to be lodged against him.
Now, before you clap too loudly, pause and consider: How many others have gone unpunished?
What about the faceless army of trolls who refer to Christians as “rice bag converts” or Muslims as “jihadi sympathizers”? What about those with mics in their hands and malice in their hearts, who use “desh bhakti” as a license to dehumanize others?
Why aren’t they being pulled up? Why aren’t they facing suo motu wrath?
The hate isn’t coming from one corner — it’s a chorus.
It’s time to say: enough.
Make hate speech — a non-bailable offence. Don’t just slap a fine and let them walk out with a smirk. Make them understand that words have consequences. And if that means half of Parliament has to stand in line for bail, so be it. Better in court than in history books as the ones who normalized prejudice.
I also found it rather ironic that Shah tried to weasel out of the mess with an apology. “I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, much like a child caught with his hand in the gulab jamun jar. But apologies aren’t magical erasers. Not when the damage is already done. Not when your words embolden others to think it’s okay to cast aspersions on the loyalty of an officer based on her faith.
The Congress, of course, jumped on the opportunity and demanded that Shah be sacked. Some even suggested charges of sedition. While political rivalries play out, one hopes the focus doesn’t shift from the core issue: accountability.
In a democracy, freedom of speech doesn’t include freedom to incite. It certainly doesn’t include the right to insult those who wear the nation’s uniform — regardless of whether their name is Sharma, Khan, or Qureshi.And so, dear readers, as we watch this drama unfold, let’s remember: it’s not about Vijay Shah alone. It’s about an entire culture of selective outrage, where justice is the exception and not the rule.
Let’s stop minority-bashing in all its forms — from the drawing room, to the news studio, to the floor of the House. And let’s demand action not just when a remark makes headlines, but when it breaks hearts.
Because the question isn’t just “Why only him?”
It should be: “Why not all of them?”
And until the answer is: “Yes, all of them,” we haven’t really won…!
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