On a humid Sunday afternoon in July last year, a small house church gathering in Uttar Pradesh was broken up by a mob. Jaynendra (name changed), the pastor leading the meeting, says 50 to 60 people linked to a Hindu right-wing group arrived while worshippers were listening to a message and “created a ruckus” before locking the prayer room.
House churches like the one in Shahjahanpur are common across northern India: informal, low-profile worship services held in private homes by small and often poor Christian communities. In recent years, however, such meetings have increasingly attracted the attention of vigilante groups that accuse Christians of forcing conversions.
Christians make up just over 2% of India’s population, according to the 2011 census, while Hindus account for about 79% and Muslims about 14%. Rights organizations monitoring communal violence report a sharp increase in attacks against Christians. One international Christian advocacy group recorded nearly 900 incidents nationwide in 2025 alone, including assaults, interruptions of services, and threats against worshippers.
A pattern emerges across multiple incidents: mobs disrupt services, allegations of “forced conversion” are raised, and police are called. Victims say the authorities often detain worshippers rather than the aggressors. After the Shahjahanpur raid, Jaynendra says police took 10 to 11 people to the station, including a 13-year-old girl, and detained them for the day. He and other worshippers were questioned and released only after prolonged pressure; Jaynendra himself was later arrested and spent more than four months in jail under Uttar Pradesh’s anti-conversion law.
State anti-conversion statutes criminalize conversions alleged to result from force, fraud or inducement. Supporters describe the rules as safeguards against exploitation; critics argue the laws are vaguely worded and prone to misuse against minorities. Courts in the region have expressed concern about false complaints filed under these provisions.
Across central India, similar episodes have been reported. In Chhindwara district of Madhya Pradesh, Vinay Patil (name changed) described a Sunday service that was stormed by 35 to 40 young men. Some attackers were reportedly intoxicated and armed with sticks. “They started beating people—women, children—shoulders broken, heads bleeding,” Patil said. Police arrived after the assailants had fled, but, he alleges, they detained the worshippers and did not pursue the attackers despite video evidence of the assault.
Local activists and church leaders say fear has seeped into everyday life. Pastors are reluctant to visit homes, people think twice before attending social events, and some families keep children away from school after threats or attacks on their communities.
Advocates trace the rise in violence to shifting political and social dynamics since 2014, when the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), which promotes a Hindu nationalist platform, came to power nationally and strengthened its position in several states. Organizations tracking incidents say reports of anti-Christian violence have risen markedly since that time. “What you see now is people committing these crimes in broad daylight without fear,” Michael Williams of the United Christian Forum said. “They stop public meetings and walk away.”
Human rights workers and veteran activists argue there is a growing sense of impunity among attackers. Perpetrators often film their actions on mobile phones; the footage is shared to signal dominance and to rally support. Such videos can inflame tensions quickly but, victims say, rarely lead to timely accountability.
Criticism of law-enforcement responses centers on selective action and, at times, apparent sympathy for the mob. “There is this peculiar thing that people are attacked and the cases are registered against the victims,” said John Dayal, a long-standing human rights campaigner. Leaders of Christian organizations report many pastors arrested under anti-conversion charges are later acquitted, but the legal process itself inflicts social and financial damage: months in jail, court dates, legal fees and social stigma.
Officials maintain that the constitution protects religious freedom and that anti-conversion laws are intended to prevent coerced or fraudulent conversions. Yet rights groups say the mere allegation of inducement can spark vigilante violence and criminal complaints that are difficult to defend against in practice.
The human cost extends beyond arrests and courtrooms. Some families have been displaced from their villages; children skip school out of fear; community leaders live with constant worry. Still, many pastors and worshippers say they will continue their faith work despite the risks. “Our job is to share the message,” one pastor said. “It is up to people to decide.”
The incidents documented by monitoring groups and recounted by church members point to a persistent and growing problem: small, private gatherings becoming flashpoints for wider social conflict, with the legal system and public authorities often failing to deter attacks or protect vulnerable communities.
The reporting for this story was supported by a grant from the HRRF Journalism Grant Program.