Two days after Mohammad Akhlaq was killed, on the night of 28 September 2015, I was in his village, Bisada, in Dadri, Uttar Pradesh. I remember the door of his room. The mob had broken down the door with such animal force that instead of giving way at its hinges, it had split right down the middle. They had bashed his head with a sewing machine before dragging him out with his son for the public lynching. Akhlaq was beaten to pulp, he was dead in a few minutes. Bricks were smashed on his son’s head; he regained consciousness after several weeks in hospital and multiple surgeries. Akhlaq’s
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