When Anjel Chakma died in December 2025, it hit a nerve that runs deep through Indian society. His story isn’t just about one tragedy—it’s about the way racial slurs get tossed around like they’re nothing, and how violence rooted in racism too often slips through the cracks of the law. Anjel was 24, an MBA student from Tripura who’d moved to Dehradun in search of opportunity, just like many young people from the Northeast. But what happened to him was a sharp reminder that, for a lot of Indians who don’t fit the “mainstream” image, the idea of belonging can still feel out of reach. On December 9, Anjel and his younger brother were out shopping in Selaqui, Dehradun. That’s when a group of local men started hurling racial abuse at them—calling them “Chinese,” mocking their looks and the food they ate. Stuff like this gets brushed off as jokes, but let’s be honest, it cuts deeper. It comes from a place that says, “You’re not really one of us.” When Anjel pushed back, insisting he was Indian, things escalated quickly. The argument turned violent. The attackers used both sharp and blunt weapons, leaving Anjel with life-threatening injuries to his head and spine. Doctors fought for over two weeks to save him, but he died on December 26.
His death didn’t just stay local. Suddenly, people everywhere were talking about racism, student safety, and how the law keeps failing when it comes to hate crimes. The police moved quickly, arresting five men, two of them minors. The main accused, Yagya Awasthi, ran off toward Nepal, so authorities put out a ₹1 lakh reward for any tips leading to his arrest. They set up a Special Investigation Team to show they meant business. Still, as the investigation unfolded, critics pointed out inconsistencies in how the police described what happened. At first, some officials downplayed the racial motive, but Anjel’s family and student groups pushed back hard, insisting that the slurs weren’t just background noise—they were central to the attack.
The National Human Rights Commission got involved, asking the state government for a full report on how students from the Northeast are protected. Their intervention put the spotlight on bigger issues—basic rights like equality, dignity, and living free from discrimination, all supposedly guaranteed by the Constitution.
Then came a major move: a Public Interest Litigation landed in the Supreme Court, demanding that racial slurs and attacks like this get recognised as hate crimes in their own right. The petition argued that, while violence gets punished, the ugly intent behind it often gets ignored. Without naming racism for what it is, the law ends up weak, and people know they can get away with it. The petition didn’t just talk in the abstract—it pointed to earlier tragedies, like the 2014 killing of Nido Tania, to show that violence against Northeastern people keeps happening, and nothing really changes.
Anjel’s death sparked outrage back home. Protests and candlelight marches swept across Tripura and Assam. Student groups, especially NESO, demanded a real anti-racism law. The anger was raw—people were tired of the usual empty promises and felt that those in power just didn’t care enough about the daily discrimination Northeastern communities face outside their own states.
Politicians jumped in, condemning the murder and calling it a national shame. Some wanted the courts to take action on their own, others called for tougher laws and better police training. But as the debate went on, it became clear that words weren’t enough. Without real legal changes, these tragedies would just keep happening. Meanwhile, the loss hit Anjel’s family hardest. His younger brother, who saw everything, was left traumatised. The family asked for privacy, a simple request that reminded everyone of the real, lasting pain behind the headlines.
If you step back and look at what happened to Anjel Chakma, it’s hard to ignore the bigger picture. He wanted a better life, trusted in the promise of opportunity, and paid the ultimate price for not looking like he “fit in.” His story forces the country to ask: When will everyone actually belong?
Look at Anjel Chakma’s story, and you see something that’s honestly tough to ignore—a huge gap between what India’s Constitution promises and what actually happens on the ground. The law says everyone’s equal and no one should face discrimination, but there’s no real legal backing when it comes to racial bias. So, when violence happens, people treat it like some random crime, not a sign of something bigger and broken. The fact that racial slurs just slide into daily conversations without anyone batting an eye? That’s where the damage starts. It’s easy for words to turn into something much worse.
Anjel Chakma’s death is more than a tragedy—it’s a wake-up call. Racism isn’t always something that happens somewhere else; it’s right here, shaping the lives of people who don’t fit the country’s so-called norms. If we want to stop this from happening again, we need to call racial slurs what they are: hate crimes. We need to actually protect students and push for more awareness about what discrimination looks like in real life. In the end, it comes down to what institutions, lawmakers, and regular people decide to do next. Will this case change anything, or will it just fade into the background like so many others? That’s still up in the air.
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