In a chilling misuse of power, two elderly nuns were jailed under the National Security Act in Chhattisgarh an act seen not as law enforcement, but as a calculated assault on Christian missionaries and the very conscience of secular India.
The arrest and nine-day incarceration of two nuns in Chhattisgarh Sister Preeti Mary and Sister Vandana Francis of the Assisi Sisters of Mary Immaculate (ASMI) was not an isolated act of law enforcement. It was a deliberate and premeditated strike against the Christian missionary presence in the region. The facts now emerging paint a chilling picture: far from being a spontaneous arrest based on a complaint, the action was rooted in a government directive issued in advance, empowered by the National Security Act (NSA) a draconian legal provision reserved for threats to national security.
The pretext was predictable. The accusation? Forced conversion and trafficking. The complainants? Bajrang Dal operatives figures consistently associated with vigilante attacks across the country. But the real motive was suppression, and the evidence is damning: an official state order issued on June 30 granted sweeping powers to the district magistrates under NSA from July 1 to September 30. The nuns were arrested on July 25. Coincidence? Far from it.
This is not merely about two women of faith. It is about a larger design to intimidate and silence the Christian missionary presence, especially in tribal belts where their decades-long work in healthcare, education, and empowerment have earned them trust and resentment from radical Hindutva groups. These groups, unable to match the moral capital of the missionaries, instead seek to paint them as threats to “social harmony.” The irony is deafening.
The injustice didn’t end at the jail gate. The National Security Act, meant to prevent terrorism and internal sabotage, was used on two elderly nuns for allegedly "endangering communal harmony." Such misuse of legislation is not only illegal it’s immoral. The state effectively labeled these women enemies of public order. But who, in truth, is disturbing the peace those who serve the sick in silence, or those who shout slogans in hate-filled mobs?
This incident did not occur in a vacuum. In 2022, over 1,000 tribal Christians were driven out of Narayanpur. Bastar and Kondagaon have seen dozens of attacks on Christians. And yet, neither the Congress government (2018–2023) nor the current BJP regime in Chhattisgarh has taken effective action. Their hands remain tied not by the law, but by the leash of vote-bank politics.
In a secular republic, the moment a religious minority becomes a political liability, the foundational promise of the Constitution begins to crack. It is telling that the strongest protests came not from Chhattisgarh but from Kerala, where a politically alert and religiously pluralistic society still recognizes injustice when it sees it. It was the Kerala Church, supported by a rare united front of UDF and LDF MPs, that forced the issue into the national spotlight.
The Kerala BJP, especially under the new leadership of Rajeev Chandrasekhar, faced its first major moral test. To his credit, Chandrasekhar acted swiftly and decisively, bridging communication with Church leadership and sending emissaries like Anoop Antony to manage the crisis. Yet his efforts were in sharp contrast to the BJP’s silence in Chhattisgarh, where their government clung to Bajrang Dal loyalty like a political lifeline.
The hypocrisy of parties adopting different moral codes for different states must be called out. Whether it's water-sharing, border disputes, or now minority rights, parties conveniently recalibrate their principles to fit local equations. But a crime is a crime in all languages and across all borders. In this case, weaponizing law to imprison women of peace is a stain that no political calculation can wash away.
That two nuns who have given decades of their lives to medical service were accused of crimes as severe as human trafficking without concrete evidence and then paraded before the law is not merely an affront to the Church; it is an affront to Indian democracy. The public trial by propaganda, the mob-like digital justification by extremist outfits, and the legal gaslighting by state actors are all symptoms of a system that has normalized the persecution of minorities.
And yet, from this valley of injustice rises a beacon of hope. The overwhelming response from the people cutting across religion, politics, and region has reminded us that India’s conscience is not yet dead. Thousands rallied in Kerala, protests erupted in Bengaluru and Hyderabad, and Church leadership across denominations stood shoulder to shoulder. Even amidst this darkness, it is clear: the spirit of fraternity has not bowed down.
The ASMI nuns are not strangers to suffering. Founded in 1949 to care for leprosy patients ostracized by society, their community has always walked through the margins of pain and silence. From Cherthala to Chhattisgarh, from Kerala to Kenya, they have carried only love not Bibles to convert, but hands to heal. Their detention may have attempted to humiliate them, but instead, it illuminated their mission.
Their bail conditional as it is does not mark the end of their ordeal. The charges still stand. But so does the unwavering support of those who believe that serving the poor is not a crime. The Church has spoken, the people have marched, and the country has taken note. Now the courts and the conscience of the nation must do their part.
To those who fan the flames of fear, we say this: we are not a threat we are a presence. The missionary presence in India is not a foreign implant; it is part of the soil, the sweat, and the soul of this nation. It is built not on conversion but on compassion. And compassion, unlike coercion, cannot be criminalized.
What we witnessed in Chhattisgarh is not just the story of two nuns. It is the story of every Indian who dares to serve without shouting, to believe without apology, and to love without boundaries.
In the end, the question is not whether the state failed the nuns. It is whether we the people will allow this to happen again.
Let us not.