The Tinderbox of Nagpur

Nagpur, a city that sits at the geographical heart of India, is the seat of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the ideological nerve-centre of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), and the political turf of Maharashtra’s Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis. But despite these credentials, Nagpur has remained on the periphery of the state’s electoral battles for much of modern history at least until 2014 when it was largely a Congress bastion. Even when the BJP won here - securing seats for Fadnavis and Union Minister Nitin Gadkari - the city did not figure prominently in the political imagination. However, that has changed with the latest bout of communal unrest.

On the evening of March 17, an ordinary protest over a 17th-century tomb erupted into something far more volatile. Members of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) and Bajrang Dal, emboldened by a recent wave of Hindu nationalist fervour, gathered to demand the removal of Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s tomb, which they claimed symbolized historical oppression. Protesters burned an effigy of the emperor, draping it in cloth before setting it ablaze. The event might have passed with little more than political posturing, had it not been for a doctored image that began circulating on social media shortly thereafter.

The post falsely claimed that a religious text had been desecrated during the protest. It spread rapidly through WhatsApp groups and local forums, stoking anger within the city’s Muslim community. By nightfall, hundreds had gathered in protest in the congested lanes of Mahal, chanting slogans and demanding action. The air was thick with suspicion and anger and then, as if on cue, violence erupted. By 7:30 PM, stone-pelting had turned Chitnis Park and Mahal into a battleground. Shops were ransacked, vehicles torched and the police, caught napping, struggled to contain the chaos. Baton charges gave way to tear gas, leaving over 30 police and 56 civilians injured before a curfew was imposed.

The state government moved quickly to contain the damage, physically and politically. The Maharashtra Police Cyber Cell launched an investigation into over a hundred social media accounts accused of spreading misinformation. Officials pleaded with the public to ignore rumours, emphasizing that no religious text had been desecrated. The incident, they insisted, was a consequence of viral falsehoods, not historical grievances.

The opposition saw an opportunity and seized it. Congress leader Nana Patole alleged that the BJP government had orchestrated the violence to deepen communal divisions. Leader of Opposition Vijay Wadettiwar questioned why the police response had been so delayed in a city that is the CM’s home constituency.

And then there is Faheem Khan. A local political figure with a growing profile, Khan had contested the 2024 Lok Sabha elections against Nitin Gadkari. Now he was in police custody, accused of instigating the mob. Was he a convenient scapegoat, or did he have a role in orchestrating the chaos? If the latter, to what end? Some BJP leaders were quick to suggest that the violence was a conspiracy to discredit Fadnavis in his own stronghold.

In many ways, Nagpur has not traditionally been a city of communal violence. Unlike Mumbai, Ahmedabad or Delhi, its history is not littered with riot after riot. Even the 1927 communal disturbances have largely faded from public memory. That is what makes this latest eruption so unsettling. Why here? Why now?

One theory is that the spark came from the recently released Bollywood film Chhaava, which dramatizes Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj’s struggle against Aurangzeb and his brutal execution at the hands of the Mughal. The movie, hailed by Hindu nationalist groups as a necessary corrective to ‘distorted’ historical narratives, apparently renewed demands to remove the Mughal ruler’s tomb. But films alone do not start riots. The deeper problem is the combustible mix of history, politics and modern misinformation.

Today, as Nagpur remains under curfew, the larger question lingers: was this an organic outburst, the result of unchecked communal tensions or was it something more carefully orchestrated?

For Devendra Fadnavis, the stakes are clear. The CM, already under scrutiny for his handling of Maharashtra’s law-and-order situation, he must convince both his constituents and his party leadership that Nagpur, his bastion, remains firmly under control. For the opposition, the unrest is proof that the BJP’s governance is allegedly neither stable nor secure. For Nagpur itself, this moment is a reminder that in modern India, history is not a relic but a weapon.

(The author is a political observer. Views personal.)