The Uttarakhand government’s recent amendment to its anti-conversion law marks a severe escalation in the state’s policing of religious freedom. By approving the Freedom of Religion (Amendment) Bill,2025, the cabinet has transformed an already stringent piece of legislation into a formidable weapon, with provisions that risk chilling legitimate religious practice and expression under the guise of preventing “forced conversions.” The amendment dramatically raises the stakes, extending the maximum penalty from a 10-year jail term to life imprisonment. This draconian measure is accompanied by a host of provisions that concentrate immense power in the hands of the state. The definition of “allurement” remains dangerously vague, encompassing any “gift, gratification, easy money or material benefit,” a description so broad it could easily be used to criminalise acts of charity, education, or community support offered by minority religious groups. Furthermore, the law now empowers District Magistrates to confiscate properties allegedly “acquired from a crime related to religious conversion,” effectively placing the onus on the accused to prove their legitimate ownership. The legal process is tilted heavily against the accused from the outset. The offense is non-bailable, with bail granted only if a court is convinced of the person’s innocence and future good conduct—a near-impossible threshold. Coupled with the power to arrest without a warrant, these provisions create a framework where an accusation is tantamount to punishment. While the bill includes provisions for victim support, such as legal aid and confidentiality, these measures do little to offset the law’s fundamentally punitive and coercive character. On the other hand, if people from minority communities belonging to any non-Hindu religion seek to “reconvert” they are given a grand homecoming and even provided with various benefits as rewards. In such cases the provisions of allurements, coercion etc under the anti-conversion law does not apply. This ‘reconversion’ or “Ghar Wapsi” (returning home) achieved by threatening, harassment and promises of allurements meted out to Christians to reconvert are not considered unlawful. Anti-conversion laws that facilitate injustice and selective treatment is not something that is strange. It is the legislativeembodiment of the Hindutva ideology that views non-Hindu faiths as alien and seeks to enforce a singular national identity. Such laws provide a legal pretext for the harassment of minorities, empowering fringe elements who now operate in the mainstream. They institutionalise a climate of suspicion where inter-faith dialogue, spiritual exploration, and social work are viewed through a criminal lens. The result is the progressive polarisation of India’s pluralistic society, driven by state-sanctioned fear-mongering. The government frames the law as a protective shield for vulnerable individuals against coercive conversion tactics, offering state-sponsored support and legal aid to victims. The law employs life imprisonment, vague definitions, and severe procedural hurdles like non-bailable clauses and property confiscation, creating a powerful tool for suppressing religious minorities and violating the fundamental right to freedom of religion enshrined in Articles 25-28 of the Constitution. This amended law does not defend religious freedom; it puts it in chains. By legislating fear and suspicion, the core message of Rabindranath Tagore’s poem “where the mind is without fear,” becomes all the more relevant and meaningful under such an environment than ever before.