Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA: The fatal shooting of Rakesh Ehagaban in the United States has drawn attention to an alarming rise in attacks on Indians overseas, fueled by xenophobia and insufficient protective measures.
On the afternoon of October 3, Rakesh Ehagaban left his motel in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, following his usual routine—a man who quietly resolved problems every day. Within moments, his life was cut short.
The 51-year-old Indian-origin manager, a long-time resident of Pennsylvania, was shot at close range after politely checking on a motel guest, asking, “Are you alright, bud?” Those words now resonate as a sombre reflection of the vulnerability faced by Indians living abroad amid gun violence, racial tensions, and social unrest.
The assailant, 37-year-old Stanley Eugene West, had earlier shot a woman in a domestic incident before targeting Ehagaban, who was unarmed.
Security footage captured the murder, sending shockwaves through Indian communities across North America. Many, however, see this as part of a broader, troubling trend extending far beyond a single motel in Pittsburgh.
India’s Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) has quietly collected data painting a worrying picture: attacks on Indians abroad are escalating. Between 2021 and 2023, more than 28,000 Indians lost their lives overseas, with 136 cases linked to violent crime. In 2023 alone, 86 Indians faced attacks—up from 57 in 2022 and just 29 in 2021. By mid-2025, reported assaults and homicides had already surpassed 100.
These incidents, spread across various countries, often share similar causes—racial hostility, economic resentment, and online radicalisation. In the U.S., gun-related attacks and racially motivated assaults are becoming increasingly frequent. Canada has seen a 143% increase in attacks on South Asians since 2019, including vandalism of temples and incidents tied to pro-Khalistan activism. Ireland reported a staggering 400% rise in assaults on Indian nationals this year, affecting students, taxi drivers, and even children.
While statistics reveal part of the story, they cannot capture the growing anxiety among Indian families abroad, who are quietly reconsidering the promises of opportunity that once drew them overseas.
The United States: Opportunity and Risk
The U.S. continues to be both a beacon and a danger for the Indian diaspora. In 2025 alone, at least four Indians have been killed in violent acts unrelated to robbery or organised crime. The victims were engaged in everyday activities—managing motels, working part-time jobs, or returning home from class.
Gun violence, already widespread in America, now intersects with tensions around race and immigration. Indians make up a significant portion of H-1B visa holders and international students—a success that some local communities view with resentment amid job insecurity and rising living costs. Online platforms amplify hostility, with racist insults like “curry thief” or “job stealer” normalised in far-right spaces and sometimes expressed in public or workplaces.
Many of these attacks stem not from organised hate groups but from everyday prejudice, fueled by fear and ignorance. As a New Jersey community leader explained, “We are targeted not for who we are, but for what others imagine us to be.”
Social Media’s Role
Social media has accelerated anti-Indian sentiment globally. Between 2023 and 2025, Canada witnessed a 1,300% surge in online content targeting Indians, often linked to misinformation about India’s politics or foreign relations. Far-right accounts on X (formerly Twitter) and other fringe platforms routinely mock Indian immigrants, associating them with job theft, overcrowding, or religious politics.
This online hostility often translates into real-world attacks. In Ireland, videos mocking Indian accents preceded physical assaults. In Australia, memes circulated before the July stabbing of 23-year-old Charanpreet Singh in Adelaide. The pattern is consistent worldwide—prejudice rehearsed online, enacted offline.
Governments have struggled to address this problem. Social media moderation is limited, and prosecutions for hate speech remain rare. Experts argue that the issue is systemic, rooted in a societal tolerance for casual racism disguised as free expression.
Historical Echoes
Historians note that the recent surge in anti-Indian sentiment mirrors colonial-era stereotypes portraying Indians as untrustworthy or invasive. From Britain’s National Front attacks in the 1970s to Australia’s “Indian student bashings” in 2009, violence often coincides with economic and cultural anxieties.
Today’s Indian diaspora is more visible, digitally connected, and upwardly mobile than previous generations. Their achievements in technology, medicine, and education can provoke admiration but also envy, which, in politically polarised societies, can escalate into danger.
Government Response
India has issued safety advisories urging citizens abroad to avoid late-night travel, stay in touch with consulates, and report hate crimes promptly. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has appealed to foreign governments to raise awareness about racial bias. Despite these efforts, fear remains prevalent.
Host countries often express condolences, but accountability is inconsistent. Canada’s RCMP has faced criticism for lax reporting of hate crimes; Ireland’s police have been accused of cultural insensitivity. In the U.S., official statements condemn racial violence but are rarely followed by concrete action.
Community organisations such as the Foundation for India and Indian Diaspora Studies (FIIDS) and the Ireland India Council are stepping in, providing helplines, legal support, and protest initiatives. Still, leaders acknowledge that their efforts are largely reactive. “We are responding, not preventing,” one organiser said.
The Human Cost
The consequences of violence extend beyond grief. Analysts warn that the trend could affect India’s $100 billion remittance economy and discourage student migration. Applications to countries perceived as high-risk, such as Ireland and Canada, have reportedly dropped by 15%.
Families back home are questioning whether sending their children abroad is worth the risk. What began as isolated incidents has evolved into a collective trauma, shared through WhatsApp groups and diaspora networks.
For many, Rakesh Ehagaban’s final gesture—unarmed, standing in the Pennsylvania sunlight, checking on someone else—symbolises the vulnerability of Indians abroad. He was not a public figure, just a man trying to do the right thing. His death is now a stark reminder that the global Indian story, once celebrated as a success narrative, is increasingly a tale of survival.
Until governments, tech platforms, and societies confront this reality, the echo of Rakesh’s words—“Are you alright, bud?”—will continue to haunt communities around the world.
