The Anti-History of Anti-Conversion Hysteria

On 25th July, two Malayali Catholic nuns, along with a tribal man in Chhattisgarh, were arrested and charged with human trafficking and forced religious conversion, on a mere suspicion of the crime. The arrest was based on a complaint filed by a Bajrang Dal leader, alleging that three women were forcibly converted and were attempting to traffic them, while one of the women said otherwise. The Chief Minister of the state justified the arrest as a matter of the safety of the daughters. The case has now reached the NIA court, and as of August 2nd, they’ve been granted bail.

The event has stirred a political row amongst Christian leaders and politicians, not just in Chhattisgarh but even in Kerala, where leaders from both LDF and UDF are condemning the arrest and criticising the BJP government for persecution of minorities, sparking debates about religious freedom.

One can choose one’s religion and choose not to at any point in life, and even propagate their religion peacefully, as is guaranteed by Article 25 of the Constitution. It does not say that one must practice only one’s birth religion. But this very constitutional amendment has already been toppled by various states across India, with the growing demand for anti-conversion laws at multiple levels, particularly when someone is converting from Hinduism. According to legal scholar Alok Prassana Kumar, these laws are making the Hindu birth religion a de facto state-mandated religion. As of 2023, Anti-conversion laws are in effect in 10 states, which are ironically referred to as “Freedom of Religion Laws”. Odisha was the first state to pass this law in 1967, largely due to the influence of Christian missionaries among underprivileged groups, like the Adivasis.

The implementation of such laws is based on the fear amongst Hindus of becoming outnumbered due to mass conversions, although no data suggests that they happen; this claim is used as a political tool. Legal terms in this law, such as forced, fraud and allurement, are vague, making it easier to misuse them, especially against minorities such as Christians and Muslims, as is reflected in the attacks against them by the Hindutva groups, who use such law to justify such violence and arrest of pastors, church workers and nuns, exemplified by the infamous murder of the Chrisitan Missionary, Graham Stains and his family by Hindutva activists in Odisha. It is also selectively used to target interfaith couples, especially Muslim men who marry Hindu women, accusing them of “love jihad”. 

While being prosecuted under this law, the burden of defence lies on the person converting, not the complainant, making it easier to harass minorities. Meanwhile, conversion to Hinduism is labelled as “ghar wapsi” (homecoming) and is never prosecuted. Penalties differ from state to state, with jail terms ranging from 1 to 10 years, fines up to 3 lakhs, and harsher punishment if the conversion involves women, minors, SC/ST or mass conversions and marriages done solely for conversion will be considered invalid by some states.

Anti-conversion laws are not new to India. They had been in existence since the 1920s and 30s in Hindu princely states to counter the influence of Christian Missionaries amongst the poor lower castes, such as Dalits and Adivasis, who saw conversions as a way to escape caste hierarchy and hunger. The upper castes disliked these conversions and ensured that they remained within the fold of Hinduism. Similar sentiments are echoed by the elites who are often at the helm of policy-making today and have contempt for the influence of foreign religion on lower castes. States like Chhattisgarh and Maharashtra are considering making such laws more stringent by excluding Dalits and Adivasis from the SC, ST categories if they convert, which unfortunately doesn't so easily take away one’s caste identity and would continue facing social stigma from both the society and often their newly joined community. 

But were conversions always such a sensitive, controversial act in India? History suggests otherwise. One of India’s greatest emperors, Chandragupta Maurya, abdicated his throne by the end of his life, converted to Jainism, and became a monk. It is believed that it’s through him that Jainism spread to South India. Chandragupta’s son and successor, Bindusara, unlike his father, was a follower of the Ajivika philosophy, which was a rival to other orthodox and heterodox movements in India. His son, Ashoka, however, adopted Buddhism, spreading the religion throughout India and parts of Asia. 

In medieval India, religion functioned more as a matter of flexible affiliations rather than a rigid identity, unlike today's. Like the Mauryas, kings across generations shifted their religious loyalties in contrast to those of their predecessors, based on personal, political, and economic contexts. This suggests that religion was not inherited by birth, like caste or dynasty, and the conversions did not provoke any communal anxieties. This pattern was common in dynasties such as the Chalukyas, Pallavas, Rashtrakutas, Hoysalas, and Cheras, where one king might build a Shiva temple, while their successors patronised Jain, Buddhist, or Brahminist institutions, without any sectarian conflicts or social backlash. Rashtrakuta Emperor Amoghavarsha, being a devout Jain himself, patronised multiple religions and, as some historians have opined, even worshipped Hindu gods. Likewise, temples too were not purely religious structures; they were powerful political and economic centres, as explained in the article on temple destruction.

A 12th-century Kannada poem titled Somanathacharita by Raghavanka recounts the story of a Shaivaite merchant named Adayya from Saurashtra, who falls in love with a Jain woman named Padmavati from Puligere in Karnataka. Adayya feels devastated after knowing about her faith, but eventually, they get married after Padmavati converts to Shaivism. This is the earliest literary reference to religious conversion in India.

However, it would be oversimplified to call it conversion, as the concept of conversion was different, since the commoners did not have an official religion. As historian Manu V Devadevan explains, “Worshipping a deity was simply a part of everyday life, not a marker of identity; just as wearing cotton clothes, residing in a thatched hut or making love never produced identities like cotton-wearer, thatched-hut-dweller, or love-maker, so also the worshipping of Shiva or Vishnu (or any other deity) did not confer identities.” Before the 12th century, religious identity was typically restricted to those who had renounced materialistic lives, such as monks and nuns, who carried identities like Jain or Buddhist, which were seen as an initiation into a spiritual order rather than simply adopting a new label. Laypeople were referred to as worshippers. However, Vijayanagara Emperor Krishnadevaraya and Maratha Emperor Chhatrapati Shivaji used the term ‘Hindu’ to describe themselves, but this was not done in the context of religion, but rather as a kingly identity in contrast to Islamic rulers.

This level of fluidity was not just applicable to Dharmic religions, but even for Semitic religions like Islam and Christianity. Zamorin, the ruler of Malabar, being a Hindu himself, patronised Islam and even encouraged the local fishermen to bring up at least one of their sons as a Muslim, considering the prosperity brought by Arab and Muslim traders to his kingdom. In 9CE, Ayyan Adikal, the ruler of Kollam, conferred privileges to a Syrian Christian merchant named Maruvan Sapir Iso, in the form of land grants of the city of Kollam, along with the Tarisa Church, and even entrusted the Nair militia for the protection of the town, as suggested by the Tarisapalli Copper Plates. 

Christianity first reached India in Kerala in the 1st century CE, even before it spread to Europe. Islam, too, had found its way to the region during the lifetime of the Prophet Mohammed. Both of these religions not only thrived here without any conflicts, but also became ingrained in the local culture. The Syrian Christians, one of the earliest Christian groups in Kerala, have customs which is starkly similar to those of the upper-caste Hindus in the region, including the notions of caste.

The legend of Cheraman Perumal, the last Chera king who converted to Islam and travelled to Mecca before dividing his kingdom among his relatives and chieftains, is one of the earliest references to Islam in the region. Although it's only a legend, every royal family in Kerala claims its lineage to Perumal. Arakkal, the only Muslim dynasty of Kerala, followed the matrilineal system, which was prevalent in the Nair community. In the famous Aithihyamala, a collection of centuries-old legends from Kerala, one of which is the story of the 12 children of Vararuchi and Panchami, who set out on a long pilgrimage. On the way, the couple had 12 children. Upon each delivery, 11 of their children were abandoned, and each of them was adopted and brought up by 11 different families from various sections of society. The ninth one was brought up as a Muslim named Uppukottan. Vavar, the Muslim friend of the Hindu deity Ayyappa associated with the Sabarimala temple, one of the biggest pilgrimage sites in South India, is revered as Vavarswami at the nearby Erumely mosque. Although none of these are historical, they speak volumes about the pluralism and peaceful coexistence of religion in medieval Kerala. 

Hinduism in pre-colonial India, unlike Islam and Christianity, is a religion with a diverse set of practices and customs that lack uniform rules or doctrines. This characteristic remains true to this day. In the late 19th Century, with the influx of European Missionaries and colonial administrators, caste elites and reformers, through organisations like the Arya Samaj, began restructuring Hinduism to fit the mould of an organised, institutionalised entity, with an emphasis on texts like the Vedas, reimagining it as a unified religion. According to historian and author Manu S. Pillai, they adopted the missionaries’ own tools and strategies for this purpose. With the rise of Hindutva in the last decade, there have been attempts to homogenise Hinduism, almost blurring the line between religion and nationalism, tending to view conversions into a foreign religion as a matter of betraying one's culture.

References

Alok Prasanna Kumar, & Alok Prasanna Kumar. (2021, December 19). Myth and rhetoric: Dissecting the anti-conversion law. Deccan Herald. https://www.deccanherald.com/features/myth-and-rhetoric-dissecting-the-anti-conversion-law-1062324.html

Devadevan, M. V. (2016). A prehistory of Hinduism (Katarzyna Tempczyk, Ishita Banerjee-Dube, & Wayne Smith, Eds.). De Gruyter Open Ltd, Warsaw/Berlin. https://www.degruyter.com

India’s anti-conversion laws selectively deny freedom of religion for Indians. (2025, August 3). Christian Daily International. https://www.christiandaily.com/news/indias-anti-conversion-laws-selectively-deny-freedom-of-religion-for-indians

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Mathur, A. (2020, December 23). Anti-conversion laws in India: How states deal with religious conversion. India Today. https://www.indiatoday.in/news-analysis/story/anti-conversion-laws-in-india-states-religious-conversion-1752402-2020-12-23

Menon, A. (n.d.). A survey of Kerala History (11th ed.). DC Books.

Mukherjee, K. (2007, August 10). Indian Hindu outcasts convert to end social stigmas. Reuters. Retrieved August 1, 2025, from https://www.reuters.com/article/us-religion-india-conversion/indian-hindu-outcasts-convert-to-end-social-stigmas-idUSSP26345320061031/

Pillai, M. S. (2025). Gods, guns and missionaries. In ALLEN LANE. ALLEN LANE.