Police in Maharashtra, India, filed a case against 22 Christian women for allegedly trying to convert a teenager, just three days before a sweeping new anti-conversion law took effect in the state.

The women were accused of offering religious texts, including the Bible, to an 18-year-old student in Wakadpada, a village in Palghar district north of Mumbai. A local resident named Milind Jole alleged that one of the women made remarks against Hindu deities and told the student the books could cure illnesses and protect against disease. The student declined the materials and alerted other villagers, who then brought the allegations to police.

Maharashtra police filed the case on Aug. 25 under penal code provisions for "hurting religious feelings." They named two women as the main suspects: Satyavati Balkrishna Kunche, 46, of Ulhasnagar in neighboring Thane district, and Kusum Shivram Kambdi, a local resident. No arrests were made. All 22 women were released pending further investigation.

Three days later, on Aug. 28, the Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Act of 2026 took effect, a law that criminalizes conversions carried out through marriage, fraud, coercion, inducement, or "undue influence." Repeat offenders face up to a decade in prison. Anyone contemplating changing their religion must now notify a district magistrate 60 days in advance or risk up to seven years behind bars.

A case filed just before the law arrived

The timing drew immediate concern from Christian leaders in the region. Bishop Emeritus Mar Thomas Elavanal of the Kalyan diocese said the timing of the case was concerning, and stated that the Catholic Church does not endorse forced conversion. He pointed to the constitutional right of Indian citizens to practice and spread whatever faith they choose.

Joseph Dias, founder of the Catholic Secular Forum, an advocacy group for Christian civil rights, called the case deeply worrying. He questioned why a new law was needed at all, given that Maharashtra already had criminal statutes covering forced conversion on the books.

That question matters. The charge filed against the women did not rely on the new anti-conversion statute, which had not yet taken effect. It relied on existing penal code provisions. If the old law already covered the conduct at issue, the new statute's harsher penalties and notification requirements look less like a gap-filler and more like a tool designed to expand the government's reach over religious activity.

Many of the 22 women came from Hyderabad, a major city in southern India hundreds of miles from the village where the incident occurred. The source does not explain whether they were traveling together for an organized event or had gathered individually. That gap leaves the nature of their presence in Wakadpada unclear, but the charges treat all 22 as participants in an alleged conversion attempt based on the actions attributed to just two of them.

Churches now ask worshippers to sign consent forms

The case is not happening in isolation. Roughly 4,000 churches across the Mumbai Metropolitan Region have reportedly begun asking worshippers to sign forms stating that nobody pressured them into attending services. The practice amounts to a preemptive legal defense, congregations trying to insulate themselves from accusations under a statute that treats religious persuasion as a potential crime.

Christians make up roughly 0.96 percent of Maharashtra's population, just over one million people in a state of 129.5 million. They are a small minority operating under a law that places the burden of proving voluntariness on the accused, not the accuser.

The pattern extends well beyond Maharashtra. Thirteen Indian states now have some version of an anti-conversion law. Most are governed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi's Bharatiya Janata Party, a Hindu nationalist party that has gained political ground over the past 12 years. Anti-conversion statutes in India date back to the 1980s, but enforcement has grown markedly stricter under BJP-led governments.

The situation facing Christians in India echoes a broader global pattern. In Pakistan, members of Congress have pressed the government to protect a Christian woman allegedly abducted and forced to convert, the mirror image of the Indian case, where sharing one's faith voluntarily is treated as the offense.

Uttar Pradesh offers a preview of what comes next

The state of Uttar Pradesh adopted its own anti-conversion law in 2020 and provides a sobering preview of how these statutes play out in practice. Legal aid groups count approximately 200 cases still pending against Christians there. More than 800 pastors and worshippers have been arrested or detained.

Those numbers suggest the laws are not narrowly targeting coercive or fraudulent conduct. They are sweeping up ordinary believers, pastors leading services, congregants gathering for worship, and subjecting them to criminal prosecution.

Christian groups have taken the constitutionality of these anti-conversion laws to the Supreme Court of India, though the current status of that challenge is unclear. The legal question is straightforward: India's constitution guarantees the right to practice and propagate religion. Anti-conversion statutes criminalize propagation itself when it succeeds, or even when someone merely alleges it was attempted.

In other parts of the world, Christians face even harsher consequences under similar legal frameworks. A Pakistani Catholic died in custody after spending a year without trial on a blasphemy charge, a reminder that vague religious-offense statutes carry life-and-death stakes when applied against minorities.

Eleven attacks on churches in six months

Pastor Sam Mathai of Vasai in Palghar district, the same district where the 22 women were charged, said churches in the Nalasopara, Bhayander, Palghar, and Vasai-Virar areas had been attacked 11 times in six months. He attributed the incidents to Hindu nationalist groups entering church premises unannounced.

No official confirmation of those attacks appears in the available reporting, and the claim rests on Mathai's account alone. But if accurate, the pattern is telling: Christians in the region face both vigilante disruption and state prosecution, a combination that leaves little room for the free exercise of faith.

That dynamic, where private hostility and government enforcement reinforce each other, is familiar to anyone tracking religious persecution worldwide. In Nigeria, rising attacks on Christians have continued despite international intervention, and governments have shown little appetite for holding perpetrators accountable.

The Maharashtra case is built on the word of a village resident who alleges that a woman offered a teenager some books and said they could cure illness. No one was harmed. No one was coerced into changing their religion. The student himself declined the materials and walked away. Yet 22 women now face the possibility of criminal prosecution, and a new law that could subject future cases to prison sentences of up to a decade.

Even in the United States, Christians have faced legal jeopardy for faith-based expression in public spaces. A Minnesota city was sued after citing a Christian street preacher for holding a pro-life sign, a far less severe case, but one that illustrates how broadly governments can stretch their authority when religious speech becomes the target.

Religious liberty means nothing if it protects only the faith the state approves. When offering someone a Bible becomes a criminal act, the law has stopped protecting citizens and started controlling them.