Poonam Sharma
In contemporary Indian politics, a familiar and deeply troubling pattern has begun to repeat itself with disturbing regularity. A violent attack occurs, the nation absorbs the shock, and before the dust has even settled, a section of political leadership steps forward with an astonishing defence-the attacker was a “strayed youth”, misled, depressed, or wronged by the system. What should be an unequivocal condemnation of terror becomes a carefully crafted narrative aimed at shifting blame, diluting responsibility, and manufacturing sympathy for the perpetrators.
The most recent example comes from Congress MP Imran Masood, representing Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh. After the fidayeen-style attack at Delhi’s Red Fort carried out by Dr. Omar Mohammad Nabi, Masood said the attacker was just a “youth who got wandered by the road”. This is no slip of the tongue-the choice of words fits into a more massive strategy that Islamist radical networks and their enablers have used for a long time: attack first, cry victim later, and then attempt narrative manipulation.
The Old Script, Recycled Again and Again
Masood’s statement echoes an age-old template that has been used repeatedly by individuals to justify or downplay the crimes of radicalised youths. A similar pattern was seen in Kashmir when Burhan Wani, the Hizbul Mujahideen commander, rose to prominence and was projected by many of his sympathisers as a rebel “young boy misled”, even though he was a full-fledged trained militant from an established family. This rebranding of terrorists as “children of headmasters”, “strayed kids”, or victims of circumstance is intentional-it cleanses the violence, demonises the state, and subtly shifts the responsibility for their radicalisation to the government.
This linguistic engineering carries a dangerous implication: if these youths are “strayed”, then who is to blame? The answer is indirectly suggested – the ruling system, the government, and therefore, conveniently, the Modi government in Delhi. That’s where propaganda meets politics. The terrorist’s choice becomes the government’s failure, the crime becomes a symptom of oppression, and the attacker becomes a misunderstood victim deserving sympathy.
The Larger Jihadi Strategy: Commit Violence, Play Insane
Another trick often used by extremist groups is to suddenly claim psychological instability. After carrying out an attack, the perpetrator declares, “I don’t remember what I did; I was mentally disturbed.” This playbook has been used globally and now finds increasing space in India. It is a tactic aimed at securing legal leniency and public confusion.
The pattern is simple:
Commit violence-bombs, murder, beheadings.
Immediately claim mental imbalance or emotional instability.
Seek sympathy in courts under the pretext of ‘victimhood’.
The carefully crafted victim card is intended to blur and distort the clarity between right and wrong, criminal and innocent, terrorist and citizen.
Udaipur Horror and the Softness of Courts
A sharp example of this disturbing trend lies in the Udaipur murder of the tailor Kanhaiyalal, who was brutally killed in broad daylight by two radical Islamists chanting “Sar tan se juda”. The attackers recorded a video, proudly confessing to the murder and threatening others. The crime was as open-and-shut as any could be.
Today, the same men are reportedly out on bail. The court cited that “bail is a constitutional right”. For many citizens, this feels painfully disconnected from the gravity of the crime. The fact that those who filmed themselves for committing a religiously motivated murder walk free raises a serious question about the strength of India’s judiciary and whether legal technicalities are overpowering basic justice.
If that is the condition of courts with iron-clad evidence, what is in store for the fresh “doctor terrorists”? The public anxiously wonders whether the same script will be played out: first excuses, then sympathy, and leniency in the end.
The Case of Imran Masood: From Violent Rhetoric to Parliament
Equally relevant is scrutiny of the credibility of the narrative-makers. Imran Masood is not a new player in controversial politics. A video from 2014 shows him threatening that he would “cut Narendra Modi into pieces”. Despite such explicit violent language, he continued to enjoy political patronage and today sits as a respected “Honourable MP” in Parliament.
This is the contradiction that reveals a deeper flaw in India’s political culture: its system rewards those who play victim cards and keeps quiet about the ones who overtly incite violence. The very same people later emerge as champions of democracy, secularism, and tolerance.
A System Susceptible to Narrative Manipulation
Robust though it may be, India’s democratic structure is nevertheless not immune to the exploitation of terror sympathisers, radical preachers, and opportunistic politicians. The ease with which legal definitions are manipulated-like “bail is a right”-or social narrative of “misguided youth”, shows that the system is being gamed repeatedly.
The more serious tragedy is that these tales undermine public faith in institutions. They blur the line between criminal and victim. They embolden extremist groups who understand that even if they kill, a political party would also get up and bail them out with humanitarian descriptions of their foreboding actions and fingers pointing elsewhere for guilt.
Conclusion:
A Dangerous Normalisation What we see is not a mere political misjudgment but a gradual normalisation of extremist violence through carefully crafted narratives. When fidayeen attackers get defended by elected representatives as “strayed youth”, when confessed killers walk free on “constitutional rights”, and leaders with serious histories of incendiary rhetoric sit in Parliament, it signals a deeper rot. India cannot afford to let its guard down. To fight terror effectively, a country needs clarity—clarity in law, narrative and moral judgment. The victim card strategy is designed to take away that clarity. And as a society, we must not allow that.
