Nasreen made the proclamation in a social media post shared on the morning of Ashtami during the Durga Puja festival, accompanied by images of pandals and rituals. She wrote, “Hindu culture is the foundation of Bengali culture. We Bengalis—whatever religion or philosophy we may have embraced over the course of history—belong, in our national identity, to India.” She went on to argue that Bengali Muslims do not inherit Arab cultural traits but are deeply rooted in Hindu traditions—citing musical practices, dance, and the use of drums as essential elements of Bengali identity.
Akhtar’s counter came swiftly. While he agreed that Bengali culture possesses richness and depth, he cautioned against narrowing its scope. “We the people of traditional Awadh have great respect for Bengali culture, language and literature. But if someone is unable to appreciate and respect the great Ganga Jamni Awadh culture and its refinement, its sophistication, then it’s completely his loss,” he remarked. He emphasised that the Ganga-Jamuni Tehzeeb captures—through centuries—the blending of Hindu and Muslim traditions and should not be overlooked.
Akhtar further highlighted that Indian culture has absorbed Persian and Central Asian influences but always adapted them. He noted that many Bengali surnames have Persian origins, and that cultural borrowing—whether from Persia or the West—has always taken place on the subcontinent’s own terms. He rejected any assertion that Bhakti or Hindu traditions are inherently superior, suggesting that excluding the syncretic tradition would erase a crucial dimension of India’s cultural fabric.
The Ganga-Jamuni Tehzeeb—or Ganga Jamni Awadh culture—is widely celebrated as a symbol of Hindu-Muslim coexistence in the northern plains of India. It has manifested in art, architecture, language, culinary traditions, and shared festivals, and is often held up as a counter to communal divisions. The term itself evokes the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna rivers, metaphorically underlining cultural fusion.
Scholars observe that the debate taps into broader tensions over pluralism, identity, and nationalism. Proponents of a monocultural narrative view assertions like Nasreen’s as necessary corrective to historical erasure, while critics argue that such positions flatten layers of cultural hybridity. The disagreement illuminates how cultural authority is contested—not only in religious or political domains, but in how histories are told and identities claimed.
Observers note the timing of Nasreen’s post—during one of the most visible Hindu festivals in Bengal—added symbolic weight to her pronouncements. Her own history is contentious: she is known for outspoken criticism of religious orthodoxy and has lived in exile from both Bangladesh and West Bengal after facing threats and bans. Her interventions often provoke public and political responses.
Akhtar’s retort drew lines of allegiance in literary and intellectual circles. Some praised his emphasis on inclusivity; others accused him of overstating syncretism in the face of social polarization. Meanwhile, various public commentators have jumped into the fray—some siding with Nasreen’s insistence on a core civilisational matrix, others warning of reducing culture to a single tradition.
Cultural historians point out that Bengali identity has long straddled multiple influences: pre-Islamic Sanskritic roots, Sufi and Persianate layers, colonial-era Protestant, secular, and nationalist movements, and modern global currents. The region’s literature, music, festivals and daily life have always reflected a negotiation among these currents.