As India gears up to put a 26/11 terror mastermind on trial, some in the opposition—and across the border—aren’t thrilled. The question is: why?
India has finally secured the extradition of Tahawwur Hussain Rana, one of the key figures behind the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks, thanks to the green signal from the United States Supreme Court and a decisive push from the new US President, Donald Trump. Rana, a former Pakistani army doctor and businessman, was flown to India on Thursday by National Investigation Agency (NIA) officials and produced before a special NIA court.
While the return of a globally recognized terrorist ought to have sparked unified national satisfaction, the reactions from some quarters have been… strange, if not outright troubling.
Former Maharashtra Chief Minister and senior Congress leader Prithviraj Chavan was quick to express hope for a “fair trial,” adding, bizarrely, that he was saying so “in the wake of our Kangaroo courts.” Kangaroo courts? Is he seriously suggesting that India’s judiciary—the same judiciary that tried Ajmal Kasab under full legal process and sentenced him only after due trial—is not to be trusted?
Such statements raise serious concerns. Is the Congress leadership nervous about what might come out during Rana’s interrogation and trial? Because it’s not just about 26/11—Rana’s web of terror extends back to the 1993 Mumbai bombings as well. These were among the deadliest attacks on Indian soil, involving 12 coordinated blasts that killed over 300 people and injured more than 1,400.
And here’s where things get murkier.
Just a day before the 1993 bombings, then Maharashtra Chief Minister Sharad Pawar (then with Congress) summoned police inspectors and said, “I don’t want Beirut replicated in Bombay.” Admirable sentiment, except what followed was anything but peaceful. Post-attack, Pawar went live on Doordarshan and claimed there were 13 blasts—including one in the Muslim-dominated area of Masjid Bunder. In reality, only 12 blasts occurred, and none at Masjid Bunder. That 13th blast was a lie, inserted to ‘balance’ the narrative and prevent communal backlash.
Justice Srikrishna later “praised” this decision. But the fact remains: the public was lied to by the government at the height of a national crisis. That alone should have triggered outrage, not applause.
Fast forward to today, and we’re watching Congress leaders caution against “Kangaroo courts” while their political ally, Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (or whatever remains of the original Balasaheb’s ideology), goes a step further. MP Sanjay Raut warned that the BJP might use Rana’s trial to score political points during the upcoming Bihar polls. He even said Rana should be hanged before the trial concluded. The irony is breathtaking: while accusing the BJP of politicization, Raut demands an execution shortcut—essentially the very Kangaroo court approach Chavan pretends to fear.
Let’s also address the other elephant in the room: Pakistan.
Pakistan has—unsurprisingly—washed its hands of Rana, claiming he’s a Canadian national. Never mind that Rana served in the Pakistani Army and reportedly had deep links with the ISI. Never mind that he operated out of Pakistan while assisting David Coleman Headley in surveying targets across Mumbai. Denial has long been Pakistan’s official terror policy. It denied Kasab’s nationality too, until photos of him in Pakistani madrassas surfaced and forced Islamabad into awkward silence.
Now, it’s deja vu.
Why is Pakistan so desperate to distance itself from Rana? Because his trial in India could rip apart the carefully woven fabric of plausible deniability that Pakistan has used for decades. It could expose the state-military-intelligence-terror nexus that underpins its proxy war strategy against India.
But more importantly, why is Congress singing the same tune? Why the sudden alarm over judicial fairness, when this is the same country that ensured Kasab—a terrorist caught on camera mowing down civilians—got a full legal defence before being hanged?
Could it be that someone fears what Rana might say?
Could his trial unravel uncomfortable truths about political negligence or willful blindness in the lead-up to India’s worst terror attacks? Could he name names, trace logistics, or reveal a deeper rot that some would rather stay buried?
It’s time we stop pretending these are innocent statements or principled stands. They’re not. When leaders downplay terrorism, question their own country’s courts, and echo the talking points of a hostile neighbour, it isn’t dissent—it’s dangerous.
India deserves to know the full truth about 26/11 and 1993. If that truth makes some in politics or Pakistan squirm, so be it. Justice must not be held hostage to political discomfort or diplomatic doublespeak.
Let the trial begin. And let it reveal everything.
