Far from empowering Muslims, Akbaruddin’s rhetoric is downright foolish.

In the complex and often combustible landscape of Indian politics, few figures have stirred as much controversy as Akbaruddin Owaisi—the younger brother of Asaduddin Owaisi, head of the All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM), a Muslim-centric political party with influence in southern and parts of northern India.

Akbaruddin became a national—and international—talking point in 2012 when a provocative excerpt from one of his public speeches in Nirmal, Telangana, went viral. In the clip, he is seen declaring: “If the police are removed for 15 minutes, we are 250 million and you are 1 billion. We will show you who is more powerful, who has balls.”

The statement was a blatant threat wrapped in communal arithmetic, referencing the Muslim and Hindu populations of India. The crowd erupted in applause. Shortly afterward, Owaisi was arrested on charges of hate speech, released on bail, and ultimately acquitted in 2022.

But revisiting this case solely as a legal episode misses the point. It is a revealing lens into the enduring toxicity of communal rhetoric in Indian politics—particularly within some segments of the Muslim leadership—where hate is no longer an outlier but a weaponized tool, used across the spectrum to polarize and provoke.

Hate Speech Is Not a One-Way Street

Akbaruddin’s speech stands as one of the clearest examples of hate speech by a Muslim politician in India. It was not vague or symbolic rhetoric aimed at resisting “Muslim oppression,” but a direct provocation against an entire (albeit imaginary) community—articulated through communal arithmetic: 25 crore versus 100 crore.

Ironically, the speech played right into the hands of those it ostensibly opposed. It gave the Hindu Right a moral and political tool: “If Muslim leaders can openly threaten us, why shouldn’t we respond in kind?” In that sense, Owaisi’s speech, like many instances where the idea of Muslim empowerment morphs into rabid communalism, deepened the communal fissures that the ruling dispensation now capitalizes on with its own stream of hate speeches.

Yet, here lies a deeper hypocrisy within sections of the Indian Muslim community. Many Muslims, in private conversations, while disagreeing with AIMIM’s political opportunism, tend to justify Akbaruddin’s words as a symbolic show of resistance—an assertion that “we will not take oppression lying down.” But symbolic resistance through hate speech is a double-edged sword. It only reinforces existing suspicions and increases hostility.

The Dangerous Myth of Communal Arithmetic

The core of Akbaruddin’s speech rests on a fundamentally flawed idea: that Muslims are a monolithic, homogeneous bloc of 25–30 crore standing against 100 crore Hindus.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Muslim community in India is deeply diverse and internally fractured—across sects, castes, regions, and languages.

Sunni–Shia, Deobandi–Barelvi, and Ashraf–Ajlaf–Arzal divisions are an open secret. The imagined “25 crore Muslims” myth collapses the moment these internal differences are acknowledged—which, in the age of Hindutva, seems conveniently forgotten.

Likewise, the notion of “100 crore Hindus” is equally imaginary. Caste, regional, and linguistic divides among Hindus remain sharp and visible, only temporarily papered over by the Hindutva project. Communalism gives life to these mythical numbers because communal politics thrives on binaries—usually imaginary, always forced.

When Akbaruddin says “15 minutes without police,” he frames the state—particularly the police—as the central oppressor during pogroms. There is some truth to this. The history of riots, from Nellie (1983) to Delhi (2020), shows police complicity or selective inaction. But his imagined scenario is suicidal. If the police disappear and the battle is framed as 30 crore versus 100 crore, it effectively calls for Muslims to engage in self-annihilation.

Three Hindus for every one Muslim—Owaisi’s way of calling for suicide reminds one of the now-famous meme: “Marwana ka tareeqa thoda casual hai.”

Far from empowering Muslims, Akbaruddin’s rhetoric is downright foolish.

The Responsibility to Condemn Across the Board

Akbaruddin Owaisi has made many such remarks, including derogatory statements about Hindu gods—calling them “manhoos” (inauspicious). Imagine if any Hindu politician had used even mildly similar language for Allah or the Prophet—the reaction from Muslims and the media would have been explosive. This asymmetry in moral outrage is dangerous.

It is also telling that his elder brother, Asaduddin Owaisi—otherwise vocal in dissecting Hindu right-wing hate speech—has never meaningfully condemned his brother’s 2012 remarks. This selective silence undermines the moral standing of anyone claiming to fight hate.

If Muslims wish to oppose Hindutva hate speech with credibility, they must also hold their own leaders accountable. Tacit approval or silence emboldens hate-mongers from within, leaving ordinary Muslims to face the consequences of fires lit by their ‘leaders.’

Communalism Is a Two-Edged Sword

The truth is stark: speeches like Akbaruddin Owaisi’s do not protect Muslims. They further communalize Hindus, provide ammunition to the ruling party, and push India’s already fragile social fabric closer to collapse.

Muslims must therefore develop a politics rooted not in reaction, but in principled opposition to all forms of hate. That essentially means condemning both Hindu and Muslim hate speech—without excuses, without bias.

The flames of hate consume the weakest first. Those who light them rarely burn. Let us never forget: hate can never be fought with hate.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.

Instead of hastily jumping to ideals of Hindu-Muslim brotherhood, perhaps we should first strive to humanize the Shia or Sunni next door—recognizing that they are as human as the Hindu in the neighboring town.

Blaming the West and the Cold War for the problem of Islamist terrorism and extremism is a convenient way of washing our hands of the issue. This narrative often ignores the fact that many Muslims themselves have normalised certain extremist ideas in everyday conversations. When a child is taught from an early age to view others as the other, some form of distance, hostility, and ultimately ghettoisation if not spatial , mental is bound to follow.

Let’s be clear: this ghettoisation is, to a large extent, self-imposed by Muslims who prefer to live “amongst their own.” But who is “their own”? This very idea contradicts the oft-repeated narrative that “we rejected Pakistan.” But what is Pakistan? It is not just a territory—it is an idea. An idea that Muslims of the subcontinent cannot coexist with non-Muslims, primarily Hindus, and therefore need a separate space to live and in essence explore our religiosity as a state and a community .

If that is so, how is ghettoisation any different? Isn’t it the same idea in practice—that Muslims cannot live among Hindus and must live solely among themselves? Various reasons are given for this self-imposed segregation—such as the reluctance of Hindus to rent or sell property to Muslims. But let us admit: in many so-called Hindu-dominated areas, Muslims do live—let’s not delve into their religiosity, though they often tend to be those who do not wear their religion on their sleeves, who have retracted religion to their homes, hearts, and mosques.

The claim that a Muslim cannot live among non-Muslims is a myth, and it ignores the broader sociological fact that segregation is not unique to Muslims. Other religious, ethnic, and linguistic groups in India also tend to cluster together, yet no one calls that oppression. People often prefer to live among those who share cultural and linguistic affinities. Why should that inherently be seen as exclusionary and wrong?

A large section of Muslims have migrated from Hindu-dominated areas to Muslim-dominated ones—such as Mumbra, Kurla, Mira Road in Maharashtra. These areas were initially chosen because they were on the periphery of Mumbai, relatively underpopulated, and affordable. Over the years, they transformed into Muslim-majority areas, derogatorily called “Mini Pakistan”—Mumbra in Maharashtra, Jamia Nagar in Delhi, Juhapura in Gujarat.

Initially, Muslims shifted to these spaces due to real threats of communal violence, but later, the migration became driven by perceived threats. However, a troubling development occurred: as Muslims moved into these spaces, they started cultivating a hyper-nationalistic and hyper-religious consciousness, and they didn’t see contradiction between the two, all the rage against the state and other communities got very conveniently channelised into fuelling sectarianism.

In these ghettoes, communalism of a specific intra-Muslim kind flourished—sectarianism became even more intense than Hindu-Muslim communalism. The Wahhabis, Barelvis, Deobandis, and Shias engaged in pitched ideological battles, throwing each other out of Islam every day and taking them in everyday to be kicked out the next and suddenly uniting with them in the face of the larger Hindu threat, This all happened in these very ghettoes. 

I feel that in the study of Indian Muslim ghettoes, how sub-divisions among Muslims also find expression in ghettoisation is often missed. For example, there are Shia ghettoes or, to be apolitical, Shia settlements within the larger Sunni ghettoes in India. Shias usually don’t reside among Sunnis, as every year Sunnis take offence at their mourning of Hussain, the grandson of Prophet Mohammed. Similarly, Ahl-e-Hadith to a large extent live near Ahle Hadees masjids, and the same is partially true for every major sect.

I remember a friend narrating an incident from Mumbra—the largest Muslim ghetto in India. He lived in one of its best buildings. During Muharram, some Sunnis in the building objected to the mourning rituals of Shias. Instead of asserting their right to peacefully observe their faith, some residents demanded that the Tablighi Jamaat’s halqas (religious circles) also be stopped.

In the same friend’s building, there was a man who never greeted others with salaam. When asked why, he replied, “I don’t greet kafirs,” referring to other Muslims who did not align with his sect. Let me reiterate this is one of the best buildings in the ghetto.

Recently, I met a man who recounted his experience at an Eid-ul-Adha prayer. The imam there declared that if the animal sacrifice was not performed by a Sunni Imam, it would be invalid. He also insisted that the skin of the sacrificed animal should be donated only to “Our Masjid.”

Let us not deceive ourselves: sectarianism is real and deep-seated within Muslim communities. Instead of hastily jumping to ideals of Hindu-Muslim brotherhood, perhaps we should first strive to humanize the Shia or Sunni next door—recognizing that they are as human as the Hindu in the neighboring town.

A humanist lens demands that we first dismantle our internal sectarianism before talking of communal harmony at large. Only when we see each other as human—across sects, faiths, and communities—can we hope to create a society not based on hatred but on larger and real Harmony.

Disclaimer: Views expressed by writers in this section are their own and do not reflect Milli Chronicle’s point-of-view.