What happened in Bankura, West Bengal, is heartbreaking. Twenty-five-year-old Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) volunteer Abdul Hafeez, as part of the CJP’s “School Thik Karo” campaign, visited his old government school in Karishunda to document its condition. What began as a simple act of filming ended in a deadly incident. Hours later, he was attacked. His father, Mohammad Mafik, was also attacked, seriously injured, and later died. A BJP leader is among the eight people who have been arrested. BJP leaders have denied any organizational connection to Mafik’s killing and said the matter should be investigated.
A simple act of civic questioning became a tragedy. In a democratic country, does a citizen not have the right to ask why a government school is in poor condition? The question is not merely about a school; it is about the right to question.
India’s Constitution, under Article 19(1)(a), protects freedom of speech and expression, subject to reasonable restrictions laid down by law. Article 14 guarantees equality before the law, while Article 15 prohibits discrimination on grounds including religion. The Constitution also protects religious freedom and the rights of minorities.
These are constitutional rights guaranteed to every citizen, irrespective of religion or political affiliation. Therefore, no one, including a Muslim citizen, needs special permission to ask for reform in education.
Following the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan, the CJP started the “School Thik Karo” campaign for educational reform across the country. Abhijeet Dipke, the founder, asked, “We have made a new parliament, a new PM house. Why have we not been able to build new schools in our villages? Do we not consider the children of farmers and laborers the future of our country?”
The campaign is about inspecting the basic requirements of a school, from infrastructure to teaching, and documenting what is needed for effective education. CJP volunteers visit schools, ask questions, document problems, and send their findings to the team to push for improvements in infrastructure and the standard of government education.
Abdul did the same. He is a Muslim, and many believe that Muslims are often viewed through the lens of political and religious identity. But citizenship should not come with a religious test. To be a Muslim is the question. A question of patriotism. The answer is equal citizenship. And equal citizenship means that Abdul should be able to ask about his old school and say, without fear, that this school needs to be better.
Abdul Hafeez’s father, Sheikh Mohammad Mafik, is dead. Yet Abdul’s response to his father’s death has brought a different meaning to the idea of patriotism. He declined monetary compensation, instead demanding that a school be built in his father’s memory. “I don’t need monetary compensation but a good school for poor children as a tribute to my father,” Abdul says. It is an extraordinary response from a grieving son. A check can help one family for a certain time, but a school can educate thousands of children for decades. A compensation package can close a file; a school can open a future.
The CJP’s campaign for education reform is increasingly gaining attention. Gen Z mobilization has gained national attention through protests at Jantar Mantar and now through “School Thik Karo.” The reform campaign is not an act of hatred against any political party, nor is criticism treason. Yet a demand for better schools is absolute nationalism.
Whether one supports the CJP or opposes it, let a father’s memory become a classroom. If we want to remember Sheikh Mohammad Mafik, let us not remember him only through a photograph or a condolence message. Let his name be written on the wall of a school. Let Abdul Hafeez’s courage become a message to India’s emerging youth. Do not be afraid to speak against injustice. Speak for better schools. Speak for equal citizenship. And let us build an India that is worth speaking up for.
