Every time an Indian is attacked abroad for the colour of their skin, their accent, or the passport they carry, the response is swift and unequivocal. We invoke history, colonial trauma, and the universal language of dignity. We demand accountability from foreign governments and insist that racism, anywhere, is a moral failure.Yet that clarity falters at home. When a Indian from the Northeast was mocked for their features, reduced to slurs, or violently assaulted, outrage turns conditional, cautious, even evasive.On a December evening in Dehradun, what should have been a routine grocery errand turned into a moment of national introspection. A 24-year-old MBA student from Tripura, Angel (Anjel) Chakma, was fatally stabbed after confronting a group of men who had hurled racial slurs at him and his brother, reflecting a chilling lack of basic respect for fellow Indians who simply looked different. Angel died on December 26 after weeks in a hospital fighting for his life.For decades, many Indians from the Northeast have lived with a quiet, grinding reality: Their facial features are mocked, their identities flattened into slurs, their Indianness questioned with casual cruelty.Racism, of course, is not an Indian problem alone. From the killing of George Floyd in the United States to the rise in anti-Asian hate crimes across Europe during the COVID-19 pandemic, societies across the world continue to struggle with prejudice and structural discrimination. India has rightly spoken out against such injustices and demanded accountability when its citizens are targeted abroad. But that global moral stance rings hollow if we fail to confront racial violence within our own borders.History should have made us cautious, yet it seems that the same stories keep repeating. In 2014, the brutal murder of Nido Taniam, an 18-year-old from Arunachal Pradesh in New Delhi, sparked nationwide outrage when bystanders watched him lie dying after an assault by youths who mocked his appearance. Although Delhi’s civic authorities later introduced sensitivity training and police reforms, the scars remain.Long before that, decades of anecdotal evidence and research had already painted a sobering picture. In a landmark review by the MP Bezbaruah Committee constituted by the Government of India in 2014, nearly 86% of people from Northeast India living in metropolitan cities reported experiencing racial discrimination. This ranged from derogatory slurs and denial of basic services to outright violence.Incidents like this reveal how little many of us are taught about the country’s own rich internal diversity. That ignorance is not incidental; it is structural. School curricula across India have long devoted scant attention to the histories, geographies, and cultures of the Northeast, not treating it as a foundational part of the national story.As Patricia Mukhim wrote in an article: “Even within the Northeast, generations grew up learning in detail about every other part of India while encountering little about their own region in textbooks”.Our Constitution guarantees equality before the law, and our ethos is one of “unity in diversity.” Countless Indians live, work, and form friendships across cultural lines without prejudice. Yet the othering of citizens based on physical features, language, or region – especially those from the Northeast – reveals a deeper social fault line that we are often reluctant to acknowledge.And yet, the solution is not to shrink from self-criticism. True patriotism is not the denial of our flaws; it is the courage to confront them. India has long prided itself on its pluralism. We celebrate festivals of all religions, cherish diverse cultures and speak multiple languages.The reaction to Angel Chakma’s death does offer a silver lining. Leaders across the political spectrum, civil society groups, and student federations have condemned the incident and called for justice. There are growing demands for clearer legal definitions of hate crimes and for sensitisation programmes targeting the police and other public institutions. India still lacks a comprehensive, standalone hate crime law that recognises racial violence as a distinct and aggravated offence.India’s constitutional promise of equality is also reinforced by its international commitments. As a signatory to the United Nations’ International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, India has pledged to prevent, prohibit, and eliminate racial discrimination in all its forms.These are necessary steps. But deeper change requires more: education, empathy, and exposure. Many mainland Indians grow up with little understanding of the Northeast’s rich cultures and histories. This ignorance creates fertile ground for stereotypes to flourish. Schools must do more than teach national history – they must celebrate the nation’s diversity in meaningful ways.Moreover, the security and dignity of all citizens must be unwavering. When people from any region of India face racial abuse, unlike in this case, the response must be swift, transparent, and rooted in justice – not obfuscated by excuses about misunderstandings or “jest.” Claims that an attack was not racially motivated because someone from the same region was involved fall dangerously short of acknowledging the emotional and social context of such violence.Some may argue that India has larger problems – economic disparity, geopolitical tensions, climate change – and that these internal social issues are distractions. But that is a false choice. A country that cannot protect the dignity of its own citizens in everyday life will find it even harder to stand united against the challenges of tomorrow.The death of Angel Chakma should remind us of some uncomfortable truths: Our legal frameworks have gaps, and societal attitudes often lag far behind constitutional ideals.If we truly honour our Constitution and our collective identity, then what happened with Angel Chakma must become catalysts for compassion, reform, and unity – not just sorrow and outrage.Because a nation that turns inward with empathy and courage is a nation that grows not just stronger, but truer to itself.Kanwal Singh is a writer and Columnist.