For the ten Muslim families in Madhya Pradesh’s Ghoti village, generations of neighbourly harmony have vanished overnight, replaced by a strict boycott enforced by Hindu groups for objecting to hate speeches
GHANTI/NEW DELHI – In the dense, green landscape of eastern Madhya Pradesh, where the borders of Maharashtra and Chhattisgarh abut, lies the district of Balaghat. Known for its copper mines and tribal heritage, it is an area of quiet villages and seemingly settled rhythms of life. But in one such village, Ghoti, a silence of a different, more menacing kind has descended. It is the silence of enforced isolation, a social and economic vacuum imposed on its small Muslim community.
For over a week now, the ten Muslim families of Ghoti have been living as pariahs in their own homes. Their crime? Objecting to hateful speeches made against their faith. In a stark and punitive response, local Hindu groups have declared a total social and economic boycott. An edict has been issued: any Hindu who maintains contact with these Muslim families—be it sharing a meal, conducting business, or even offering condolences—will face a fine of ₹5,000 and social ostracisation.
This draconian order has frozen life for Ghoti’s Muslims. Their small businesses—a chicken shop, a grocery store, a puncture repair stall—see no customers. Men who worked as daily-wage labourers in the fields of Hindu farmers sit idle. Drivers find no work. The invisible threads of interdependence that wove the village’s social fabric for generations have been abruptly cut.
“We have lived here for generations, side by side. We celebrated together, mourned together,” says Khairunisha, a Muslim woman from the village, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. “Now, people change their path when they see us. They look away. Our children are sitting at home, jobless. Who will feed our families?”
The crisis has its roots in a ‘Hindu Sammelan’ (conference) held in Ghoti on January 27. Residents say that during the event, saffron-clad religious speakers, including a female ascetic, delivered vitriolic speeches targeting Muslims and Islam. The language, according to villagers, was unprecedented in its hostility.
“Their programmes happened here before, but never like this,” explains Khairunisha. “People from outside came and said terrible things about Muslims and our religion. They were abusing us. After the event, we went to complain. We went to the organisers and to the village head. We said, ‘You are from this village, you should have stopped them.’ That was our only mistake.”
That act of protest became the trigger. Soon after, a meeting was convened by the Hindu groups. Videos from the meeting, now in possession of local media, show men taking oaths and chanting slogans like “Bharat Mata Ki Jai” and “Batein toh katein” (If they argue, they will be cut down). The boycott was formally declared.
A local journalist, Ashish Shrivastava, who has been covering the region for years, provides context. “Balaghat is a Naxal-affected area with a significant tribal population. There’s also considerable Christian missionary activity, which has led to a sharp rise in the activities of Hindu right-wing groups like the Bajrang Dal and the Swadeshi Jagran Manch in recent years as a counter. This conference was part of that pattern. But the administration’s silence on the resulting boycott is deafening.”
The administration’s response, or lack thereof, is a recurring theme in the villagers’ accounts. When the Muslim families approached the local Lanji police station, officers reportedly visited the mohalla once in a jeep and left. No substantive action followed. The boycott continues unabated.
“The police, from the station level to the higher-ups, are trying to suppress the matter,” alleges Kishore Samrite, the former MLA of the area. “It is extremely worrying. A social boycott of families is unacceptable. The Union Home Ministry should investigate. The police should conduct flag marches to build confidence.” Samrite also pointed to historical tensions in the area over alleged cow slaughter cases, suggesting a backdrop of simmering distrust that was now being weaponised.
On the ground, the human cost is mounting. The affected families belong to the working class. Their livelihood is entirely dependent on the local economy, which is now shut to them. The fear of the ₹5,000 fine has proved a powerful deterrent, severing even clandestine links of support.
When approached for comment, some Hindu villagers denied the boycott outright. Netaram Tirkee, a local, said, “No one has boycotted the Muslims. This is all a rumour.” Another youth, Tularam, offered a more procedural view: “The programme was from 2 to 5 pm and it was successful. Regarding this boycott matter, a meeting is to be held; it will be resolved after the meeting.”
But for the Muslim families, these assurances ring hollow against the stark reality of their empty shops and silent phones. The social boycott extends to all spheres of life. “They have said they will not join our weddings, our funerals, or our celebrations of new birth,” says a young Muslim man who did not wish to be named. “We are being treated as if we are not human, as if we don’t exist.”
The situation in Ghoti is a microcosm of a larger, troubling trend in parts of India, where majoritarian assertion manifests as economic and social coercion against minorities. It bypasses the courts and the law, enforcing its own brutal code of conduct within a community. The state apparatus, often accused of being complicit or turning a blind eye, appears paralysed.
For now, the Muslim mohalla in Ghoti exists in a state of suspended animation. The laughter of children is subdued, the chatter of daily commerce absent. The question that hangs heavy in the air is one Khairunisha asks with plaintive simplicity: “What is our fault? We only asked not to be abused. Is that why generations of relationship have been broken in an instant?” As the administration “considers” the matter and higher political offices remain silent, Ghoti’ Muslims wait, their lives and dignity held hostage to an unofficial decree that has the power of law in their village lanes.
