The recent episode where Afghanistan’s Taliban government held a press conference in its embassy and excluded Indian women journalists is not just another diplomatic blunder; it is a mirror reflecting the moral confusion of our times. A regime that treats women as invisible beings, unworthy of education or participation, was allowed to stage its worldview right here on Indian soil — and our political class responded not with firm clarity, but with noise, blame, and selective outrage. The Taliban, whose governance is a monument to medieval misogyny, barred women from a public event, and instead of addressing the insult as a national affront to every Indian woman, we watched politicians bark at each other — some accusing the government of surrendering to terrorists, others busy explaining protocol loopholes, as if dignity were a clerical error.
The irony is that the same Taliban minister who oversaw the exclusion of women journalists was recently welcomed with garlands in Deoband, Uttar Pradesh — the very place he described as the “root of our education.” Flowers rained on him, and his words of gratitude echoed across a land where women still fight for the basic right to sit, speak, and pray alongside men. If the Taliban is what they are today — rigid, regressive, anti-women, and violent — then one must at least have the honesty to examine the ideological nursery they revere. But that, of course, is where all our roaring leaders fall silent. None of the loudmouths who spend hours on television debating the Taliban’s insult to India dared to utter a word about Deoband. Because calling out foreign terrorists is easy; confronting domestic dogmas is political suicide.
Let’s speak plainly. If the Taliban are terrorists, and their interpretation of religion fuels brutality and gender apartheid, then what do we call the soil that nurtured their ideas? If those teachings still thrive, celebrated under the name of faith, then outrage against the Taliban alone is an empty gesture. How can we demand that Afghanistan treat women with respect when our own political and religious establishments cannot ensure equality inside our mosques, temples, or streets? The same mindset that keeps women out of the Taliban’s press room is what keeps them behind curtains, behind walls, and behind silence here. The difference is only in degrees — not in kind.
What makes this entire drama even more grotesque is the hypocrisy of our public reaction. The opposition screams that India has “bowed before terrorists,” as though diplomacy were a prizefight. The government insists that “it was not our event,” as though moral responsibility can be outsourced. Everyone is busy scoring points; no one is taking a stand. The women journalists, who were simply doing their jobs, were reduced to collateral in a contest of egos. And the rest of us — citizens, thinkers, media — watched it unfold with the same weary mix of outrage and resignation that accompanies every moral failure dressed as a news cycle.Let’s not fool ourselves. The Taliban didn’t humiliate India; we humiliated ourselves. Because when misogyny walks into your house and you offer it tea in the name of diplomacy, you are not being hospitable — you are being complicit. And when you allow a man who bans women from schools to be welcomed with garlands in a place that claims to be the seat of enlightenment, you are not practicing tolerance — you are nurturing hypocrisy. Every society has its monsters, but only a decaying one gives them flowers.
There’s a dark comedy in watching politicians, who never utter a word against their domestic vote banks, suddenly become defenders of women’s rights when a foreign name is attached. Where is their thunder when young girls in this country are denied education because of social taboos? Where is their courage when clerics preach that women must not share the same prayer space as men? The same leaders who condemn the Taliban for excluding women from a press conference never question the Indian institutions that do the same thing every Friday, every week, every generation. Perhaps the Taliban doesn’t have to cross borders — their ideas already live comfortably among us.
It’s time we stopped pretending. You cannot stand against terror abroad while tolerating its ideological cousins at home. You cannot condemn the Taliban for suppressing women while justifying gender discrimination in the name of faith within your own borders. And you cannot talk of national pride when your outrage is selective, your morality is borrowed, and your silence is for sale. True strength is not in the thunder of condemnation; it is in the courage to clean your own house.India prides itself on being the land of Durga, Saraswati, and Lakshmi — the goddesses who symbolize strength, wisdom, and prosperity. Yet here we are, defending the right of a foreign regime to disrespect our women on our soil, while worshiping idols of the same virtues in our homes. This is not spirituality; it is schizophrenia. Our politics has turned morality into a costume — worn when convenient, discarded when costly.
This incident should have sparked a national reckoning. It should have forced our leaders to declare that gender equality is non-negotiable, whether in Kabul or Kanpur. It should have made religious institutions introspect whether their teachings empower or imprison. But instead, it became another evening of prime-time theatre. The government offered clarifications, the opposition offered condemnations, and the truth — that deep, uncomfortable truth about our own complicity in preserving medieval mindsets — was buried under noise.
The most dangerous thing about hypocrisy is that it doesn’t just hide the truth; it breeds apathy. When people see their leaders shout about morality one day and compromise it the next, they stop believing in the very idea of principles. That is how societies decay — not through invasion or war, but through moral corrosion disguised as diplomacy, tolerance, or culture.If we are truly to call ourselves a modern, sovereign nation, then we must have the courage to look within. Deoband may be a religious institution, but no institution — however sacred — should be immune to scrutiny when it becomes a breeding ground for ideas that justify oppression. The same applies to every other religious or political body that preaches inequality and calls it tradition. The fight against the Taliban is not about borders or diplomacy; it is about the ideas that make the Taliban possible. And some of those ideas, unfortunately, live closer to us than we dare admit.
So yes, let the politicians shout, let the embassies issue denials, let the TV debates run their course. But when the noise dies down, the question that will remain is simple: how long will India continue to preach equality abroad while practising submission at home? The Taliban’s insult will fade from the headlines, but the deeper insult — the one we inflict upon ourselves by accepting double standards — will remain etched in silence.
This is not just about a press conference. It is about a national conscience that confuses convenience for wisdom, and diplomacy for dignity. A society that tolerates hypocrisy in the name of peace will one day lose both. The day we stop calling out the poison within, we surrender the right to complain about the poison without. And that day, we won’t need the Taliban to remind us how far we’ve fallen — our own silence will do the job perfectly.
