Uttar Pradesh’s renaming campaign targets Muslim history Cultural and political divide in India

An article published on the Indian website Clarion India examines the policy of erasing Muslim heritage through the renaming of cities, localities, and administrative terms in India. Caliber.Az presents an adapted version of this report for its readers.

Since the Yogi Adityanath government took office in Uttar Pradesh in 2017, the practice of changing place names has become a major cultural flashpoint. The latest proposal, to rename Fazilnagar panchayat in Kushinagar as Pava Nagari, has reignited debates over history, identity, and political motivations. While authorities argue that these changes correct historical distortions, critics contend they are intended to systematically erase Muslim contributions from public memory.

Proponents of the renaming claim that many existing names date to the Mughal era and therefore do not reflect the region’s “authentic” cultural identity. The state government insists it is restoring ancient Hindu-era names. Yet historians, political analysts, and Muslim organizations point out that nearly all of the altered names are associated with Islamic rulers, Urdu terms, or Muslim history, suggesting the effort is more ideological than restorative.

Over the past seven years, more than 50 names have officially been changed. Faizabad is now Ayodhya, Allahabad is Prayagraj, and Mughalsarai has become Pandit Deen Dayal Upadhyay Nagar. While renaming places is a common practice during political transitions, the consistent focus on Muslim-associated names has raised concerns.

Observers warn that this trend is slowly reshaping historical consciousness, pushing Muslim contributions to architecture, language, and culture out of collective memory. “It feels as if someone is erasing an entire community,” said Arshad Siddiqui, a teacher from Sambhal. “A name is more than a label; it carries stories of belonging, migration, and contribution. If those names disappear, what happens to our history?”

Academics also emphasize that renaming is never neutral. Dr Seema Azad of Lucknow University noted: “Once old names vanish, future generations may never know they existed. This isn’t correcting history—it’s creating a new version of it.” According to her, such changes subtly reframe Muslims as temporary occupants rather than foundational contributors to North India’s cultural identity.

The campaign is not limited to geographic names. Administrative terms rooted in Urdu and Persian have been replaced with Sanskritized alternatives, which critics describe as a cultural purge. “Urdu originated in India,” said retired academic Prof Tariq Husain. “Treating it as foreign is historical amnesia.”

In Varanasi, or Kashi, nearly 50 Muslim-linked localities have reportedly been renamed without consulting residents. Young locals describe the experience as a form of emotional exile. “A name is a story,” a university student explained. “Remove it, and you erase part of who we are.”

Meanwhile, the government’s controversial bulldozer actions, often targeting Muslim-owned properties, have amplified feelings of vulnerability. Mohammad Salman from Moradabad recounted that his home was demolished without due process: “The bulldozer may be a machine, but to us, it sends a message.”

Opposition parties view the renaming campaign as a political distraction from issues like unemployment, inflation, crime, and failing infrastructure. Imran Masood, Congress MP from Saharanpur, remarked, “The government fights the past because it cannot manage the present.” The Samajwadi Party described it as “symbolic warfare”—an inexpensive, media-friendly, and electorally convenient strategy.

The government reportedly plans to rename 12 major cities, including Aligarh, Sambhal, Shahjahanpur, Muzaffarnagar, and Farrukhabad—all locations historically connected to Muslim rulers, Sufi saints, artisans, and freedom fighters. Analysts warn that if this trend continues, the cultural landscape of North India could be unrecognizable within a generation. “History won’t vanish,” said Abhishek Anand, “but it will become harder to trace.”

For many Muslims, the renaming feels like a silent displacement of identity. Shabbir Khan, a vegetable vendor in Farrukhabad, said, “Every new name feels like someone is turning the page on our existence. What if one day there’s no page left?”

Cultural experts stress that shared history, not selective memory, has allowed India to endure. “Names are anchors,” said Dr Harjot Singh. “Remove them, and communities drift apart.”

The controversy has sparked a national debate on Indian identity. Is identity inherited or manufactured? Can a nation with layered histories reshape itself into a single narrative without fracturing its soul?

For now, the renaming continues. Discussions intensify, and a persistent fear remains: not that history is being rewritten, but that one day, an entire community’s contributions may be forgotten.