The sun shone bright on March 17, 2025, as Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) MLA T Raja Singh stood before a buzzing crowd in Maharashtra, his voice cutting through the warm air like a call to action. This wasn’t just another day for him—it was a moment to share a dream that’s been burning in his chest: turning India into a “Hindu Rashtra,” a land where Hindu values light the way. But his eyes were also fixed on something else—a relic of the past he can’t stand to see any longer. He demanded that the tomb of Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, sitting quietly in Khuldabad, Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar district, be wiped clean off Maharashtra’s soil, gone for good.

Raja Singh’s words flowed with strength as he spoke to the people gathered around him. “The Hindus in Maharashtra want that Aurangzeb’s grave should be eliminated from the state. Kab tutegi Aurangzeb ki kabr? I have only resolve now – to make India a ‘Hindu Rashtra’ and remove Aurangzeb’s grave,” he said, his voice steady and sure. You could feel the energy in the crowd shift, as if they were hanging on to every syllable. He wasn’t just speaking for himself—he was giving voice to a longing he says runs deep in the hearts of Hindus across Maharashtra, a wish to see that old tomb crumble and a new India rise.

But this wasn’t a fight he saw ending at the state’s borders. Raja Singh lifted his head high and spoke of a bigger picture, one that stretched across the whole country. “The Hindus of Maharashtra used to ask earlier, but now the Hindus in the entire nation are asking, ‘Why is Aurangzeb’s grave still here?’ He jailed his father, killed his brothers and destroyed our temples. His grave in Maharashtra is like a poisonous sword,” he told the crowd. He didn’t mince words about Aurangzeb’s brutal past—locking up his own father, cutting down his brothers, and tearing apart sacred Hindu temples. That tomb, to him, is more than just a pile of stones; it’s a bitter mark of pain, a danger that’s been left to fester too long. He made it clear that Hindus from every corner of India are starting to wonder why it’s still standing.

Then, with a spark of pride lighting up his face, Raja Singh turned to salute the bold stand taken by some fierce allies. “Activists from our Bajrang Dal and Vishva Hindu Parishad made a commendable statement and said, ‘If the government can’t bulldoze, we will carry out the karseva on his (Aurangzeb’s) grave’. I support it,” he said, nodding in approval. He was talking about the warriors of Vishva Hindu Parishad and Bajrang Dal, groups ready to roll up their sleeves and take down that tomb themselves if the government won’t step up. Karseva, a word that means serving a holy cause, captured their spirit perfectly, and Raja Singh was all in, cheering them on like a teammate ready to join the fight.

This wasn’t the first time such a challenge had been thrown down. Bajrang Dal leader Nitin Mahajan had already made his own waves, calling for Aurangzeb’s tomb in Sambhajinagar to be history. “We know what happens when the Hindu community carries out an agitation concerning its existence, we all saw what happened in Ayodhya to remove the Babri structure… If the government does not remove the grave, then we will do Karseva and do so ourselves,” he had said earlier. His words brought back memories of Ayodhya, where Hindus came together years ago to bring down the Babri Masjid. Mahajan was sending a loud message: if the powers that be won’t act, the people will, ready to repeat that historic stand with Aurangzeb’s grave.

Responding to these developments, Congress leader Vijay Wadettiwar criticized the VHP and Bajrang Dal, accusing them of disrupting peace in Maharashtra. He commented, "They (VHP and Bajrang Dal) are left with nothing else to do... They don't want the people of Maharashtra to live peacefully... They want to slow the development pace of the state... I would like to say to them that Aurangzeb was here for 27 years, and he was not able to do anything to the state; now, what will they get after the removal of his grave." ​Hindustan Times

Congress National Spokesperson Atul Londhe Patil expressed concerns over the escalating tensions in Maharashtra, suggesting that the state's law and order situation has deteriorated. ​News Arena India

The debate over Aurangzeb's tomb has intensified, reflecting deep-seated historical grievances and differing perspectives on India's cultural and religious identity. As discussions continue, the state's approach to this sensitive issue remains under close scrutiny.

Aurangzeb’s Atrocities Against Hindus and His Own Family: A Legacy of Cruelty

Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb’s reign from 1658 to 1707 wasn’t just a chapter in history—it was a storm that left behind broken families, shattered temples, and a trail of blood. His actions against Hindus and even his own kin paint a picture of a ruler driven by power and intolerance, a man whose deeds still stir anger centuries later. In the quiet town of Khuldabad, Maharashtra, his tomb stands as a silent witness, but the stories of his tyranny refuse to stay buried.

Aurangzeb’s cruelty started close to home, striking at the heart of his own family. “Aurangzeb jailed Shah Jahan in Agra Fort for 8 years till his death,” history records tell us plainly. In 1658, he turned on his father, Shah Jahan—the emperor who dreamed up the Taj Mahal—and locked him away after seizing the throne. For eight long years, Shah Jahan lived as a prisoner in Agra Fort, his health fading until he took his last breath in 1666. Accounts from Britannica paint this as a cold, calculated move, a son betraying his father to wear the crown. It was a sign of the ruthlessness that would define his rule.

His brothers fared even worse, caught in Aurangzeb’s brutal quest for power. “Aurangzeb killed his brother Dara Shikoh and sent his head to their father Shah Jahan,” the records say, and the details are chilling. Dara Shikoh, the eldest son and once the favored heir, lost a fierce battle for the throne in 1659. Aurangzeb didn’t just defeat him—he ordered his execution and had Dara’s head sent to their captive father as a grim message. Historians like John Keay in India: A History describe this act of savagery, a brother’s life snuffed out and paraded to secure Aurangzeb’s grip on the empire. It’s a story that feels like a dagger twist, even now.

But Aurangzeb’s shadow fell far beyond his family—it loomed large over India’s Hindus. “Aurangzeb killed 4.6 million Hindus during his Islamic rule,” some claim, a number that echoes through critiques like those on HariBhakt.com. While scholars argue over the exact toll, his 49-year reign was a nightmare for many. He ordered temples smashed—like the Vishwanath Temple in Benares in 1669—and pushed forced conversions that tore communities apart. Richard Eaton’s studies estimate thousands of sacred sites fell to his decrees, a campaign to stamp out Hindu faith with steel and fire. The echoes of those losses still linger, a wound that time hasn’t fully healed.

His blade didn’t spare the brave who stood against him. “Aurangzeb beheaded the ninth Sikh Guru Tegh Bahadur in Delhi in 1675,” history notes, a moment etched in pain and pride. Guru Tegh Bahadur defied Aurangzeb’s orders to convert Hindus to Islam, standing firm for freedom of belief. Captured and tortured, he was executed in public at Chandni Chowk in November 1675—a brutal end to a man who chose death over submission. Sikh chronicles, like those on SikhiWiki.org, hail him as a martyr, his sacrifice a spark that still lights up stories of resistance. It’s a tale that hits hard, a holy man cut down for daring to say no.

In Maharashtra, another hero faced Aurangzeb’s wrath. “Aurangzeb killed Sambhaji Maharaj, son of Shivaji Maharaj, in 1689 after brutal torture,” the records state, and the brutality is hard to stomach. Sambhaji, the Maratha king who battled Mughal rule, was captured in 1689 after years of fierce defiance. Aurangzeb didn’t just end him—he ordered weeks of torment, blinding and breaking him before the final blow. Jadunath Sarkar’s histories detail this merciless execution, a warrior’s life snuffed out to crush a rebellion. In the land where Sambhaji fought, his story still stirs pride—and fury at the man who took him down.

The question hangs heavy: “When Aurangzeb committed such atrocities against Hindus and his own family, why should his tomb remain in Hindu Rashtra?” It’s not just about a pile of stones in Khuldabad—it’s about what it stands for. Aurangzeb didn’t stop at family betrayal; he reimposed the jizya tax on Hindus in 1679, a burden that squeezed the poor, and banned festivals like Holi in some regions, dimming the colors of Hindu life. Against his kin, he cleared his path with blood, executing another brother, Murad Baksh, to leave no threats standing. Audrey Truschke notes his zeal, while Eaton counts the temples lost—over 4,000 by some reckonings.

That tomb, watched over by the Archaeological Survey of India, feels like a stubborn guest in a land he once tormented. For those dreaming of a “Hindu Rashtra,” it’s a bitter reminder—a resting place for a man who crushed temples, killed millions, and turned on his own blood. They see a nation that should lift up its heroes—Sambhaji, Guru Tegh Bahadur—not cradle a tyrant’s memory. Others might argue it’s history, a lesson in stone, not a shrine to tear down. But as the wind whispers through Khuldabad, the debate simmers on. Aurangzeb’s legacy isn’t quiet—it’s a shout, a clash of past and present that won’t fade away easy.