I am not sure how many of you have noticed, but at present, There is so much hate directed at Malaysian Indians that even an elderly Indian lady who goes by the handle @veeraraman6 on TikTok—who is more popularly known as Nenek Veera—was caught in the crossfire recently, when out of nowhere, a commenter remarked: “Don’t encroach on people’s land. If you want to build a temple, buy it first (Jangan ceroboh tanah orang. Kalau nak buat kuil beli dulu).”
The absurdity of the situation is that Nenek Veera was not even talking about any controversial subject. She was not trying to build any temple. She was not involved in land disputes. She was not even discussing religion or politics. She was conducting a small business online. Yet, her identity as an Indian—and presumably as a Hindu—was enough for someone to project onto her an entire political and social controversy.
This is precisely the problem.
The issue of so-called “illegal Hindu temples” has long existed as a complex legal and historical matter, rooted in questions of land ownership, colonial-era arrangements, and the realities of marginalized communities establishing places of worship where they could. But in recent years, this issue has been simplified, weaponised, and racialised. It is no longer treated as a legal question—it is increasingly framed as a racial grievance.
And once that happens, individuals become targets.
What happened to Nenek Veera is not an isolated case. Anyone who speaks publicly about Malaysian Indians—including me - whether in defense, critique, or even neutral observation—will quickly encounter a flood of comments that follow a similar pattern. “Indians are playing victims.” “Indians encroach on land.” And worse, far more derogatory remarks that reveal a deeper reservoir of resentment.
The question we must ask is simple: where is this coming from?
There are two possible explanations, and neither is comforting.
The first is that these expressions are genuine—that they reflect the real sentiments of a significant number of Malaysians. If that is the case, then the level of tension between Hindus and Muslims in Malaysia is far higher than we are willing to admit. It would suggest that beneath the surface of everyday coexistence lies a simmering distrust, waiting for the right trigger to erupt.
This should alarm us all. Malaysia’s social fabric has always depended on a delicate balance—one that requires not just tolerance, but a basic level of mutual respect. When entire communities are reduced to caricatures, that balance begins to unravel.
But there is a second possibility.
What if these comments are not entirely organic? What if at least some of them are the work of coordinated efforts—anonymous accounts, locked profiles, and individuals who do not speak as themselves, but as instruments of a larger agenda?
The presence of such patterns—repetitive talking points, similar phrasing, and the use of newly created or anonymous profiles—raises the question of whether “cybertroopers” are at work. In many parts of the world, it is no longer controversial to suggest that online discourse can be manipulated. Governments, political parties, and interest groups have all, at various times, been accused of deploying digital operatives to shape narratives and inflame tensions.
If that is happening here, then we must ask the oldest question in politics: cui bono? Who benefits?
It is certainly not ordinary Malaysians.
Racial and religious tension does not improve the lives of the rakyat. It does not create jobs, lower prices, or strengthen institutions. What it does do, however, is distract. It shifts attention away from governance failures, economic struggles, and systemic inequalities. It creates an environment where people are too busy blaming each other to hold those in power accountable.
It is also worth noting that Malaysia is never far from an election cycle. With the next general election looming in the not-too-distant future, the incentive to shape public sentiment—especially along racial and religious lines—becomes even stronger. Fear and resentment are powerful mobilising tools. They can be used to consolidate support, to fracture opposition, and to redefine political narratives.
In this context, incidents like the one involving Nenek Veera take on a broader significance. They are not just isolated acts of online rudeness. They are part of a larger ecosystem of discourse—one that can either bring people together or drive them apart.
What makes this particularly dangerous is how easily such narratives can take root. When repeated often enough, even the most simplistic and unfair generalisations begin to feel like common sense. A legal issue becomes a racial one. A specific incident becomes a collective accusation. And before long, an entire community is seen through the lens of suspicion.
This is how prejudice normalises itself.
Yet, there is another side to the story—one that offers a measure of hope. In the case of Nenek Veera, many of her followers rallied around her. They offered words of encouragement, urged her to ignore the negativity, and continued to support her small business. She, in turn, responded with grace, thanking them and carrying on.
This response matters. It reminds us that the loudest voices are not always the most representative. For every hateful comment, there are often many more people who reject such sentiments, even if they are less visible.
But goodwill alone is not enough.
If Malaysia is to navigate this increasingly volatile digital landscape, it will require a more conscious effort from all sides. We must be more discerning about what we read and share. We must question narratives that seem designed to provoke rather than inform. And most importantly, we must resist the temptation to reduce individuals to their race or religion.
Because once we start doing that, we are no longer engaging as citizens. We are merely reacting as tribes.
The incident involving Nenek Veera should serve as a wake-up call. Not because it is extraordinary, but because it is becoming ordinary. And that, more than anything else, is what makes it dangerous.
If we fail to address this now—whether the source is genuine prejudice or manufactured division—we risk allowing these sentiments to harden into something far more difficult to reverse.
Malaysia’s strength has always been its diversity. But diversity, left unattended, can become division. The choice, ultimately, is ours.
TheRealNehruism (nehru.sathiamoorthy@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
The User Content (as defined on Newswav Terms of Use) above including the views expressed and media (pictures, videos, citations etc) were submitted & posted by the author. Newswav is solely an aggregation platform that hosts the User Content. If you have any questions about the content, copyright or other issues of the work, please contact creator@newswav.com.
