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.

Today, Soomro’s name is largely absent from Pakistan’s textbooks and official narratives.

In the narrative of Pakistan’s creation, the story is often framed as a unified struggle for a Muslim homeland. Yet, this overlooks the voices of dissent, none more compelling than Allah Bux Mohammed Umar Soomro, the former Premier of Sindh. A devout Muslim and staunch Indian nationalist, Soomro rejected the Muslim League’s Two-Nation Theory, advocating for a secular, united India. His defiance of Muhammad Ali Jinnah and his mysterious assassination in 1943 expose the contradictions and betrayals at the heart of Pakistan’s founding.

A Muslim Nationalist’s Stand

Allah Bux Soomro was no ordinary leader. As Premier of Sindh, he refused to let his Muslim identity be weaponized for political ends. Aligning with Mahatma Gandhi and the Indian National Congress, he championed a vision of India where civic identity trumped religious divides. “I am first an Indian and then a Muslim,” he declared, a statement that encapsulated his commitment to pluralism and unity.

His principles were matched by action. In 1942, Soomro returned his knighthood, a prestigious British honor, as a protest against colonial oppression and in support of the Quit India Movement. This bold move infuriated the British and alienated pro-British Muslim leaders, marking him as a true nationalist. While the Muslim League, led by Jinnah, avoided the Quit India Movement, Soomro’s government backed it, further antagonizing both colonial authorities and the League, which saw Sindh as crucial to its Pakistan agenda.

A Threat to Jinnah’s Vision

By 1943, Soomro’s influence was growing beyond Sindh, reaching Punjab and the North-West Frontier Province (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa). His message of secularism and unity resonated with Muslims who saw no conflict between their faith and Indian identity. This alarmed the Muslim League, which relied on communalism to consolidate power. Soomro’s popularity threatened Jinnah’s narrative that only the League spoke for India’s Muslims.

Jinnah viewed Soomro as a formidable obstacle, publicly dismissing him as a “Congress stooge.” Soomro’s principled stand made him a target, not just in Sindh but in regions critical to the League’s vision of Pakistan. His ability to rally diverse communities around a pluralist ideal posed a direct challenge to the League’s momentum.

A Mysterious Death

On May 14, 1943, Allah Bux Soomro was assassinated near Shikarpur, Sindh, reportedly by a hired killer posing as a beggar. The official account cited personal motives, but the political context suggests otherwise. Soomro had been ousted from his premiership under pressure from the British and the Muslim League. His rising influence, particularly as his ideas spread to Punjab, made him a threat to Jinnah’s communal agenda. The timing of his death, just as his vision gained traction, points to a calculated act to silence dissent.

Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, a leading Muslim nationalist and Congress president, mourned Soomro’s death as a blow to India’s unity. In India Wins Freedom, Azad praised him as a “man of great character,” lamenting the loss of a leader driven by conscience, not communalism. The murder was not just a personal tragedy but a blow to the vision of a united India.

Erased from History

Today, Soomro’s name is largely absent from Pakistan’s textbooks and official narratives. This erasure is deliberate. His life and death challenge the myth that Pakistan was the unanimous will of Indian Muslims. Many Muslims, like Soomro, opposed partition, advocating for a democratic, pluralist India. His assassination silenced a voice that could have altered South Asia’s trajectory, sparing it the horrors of division.

The hypocrisy is stark: a movement claiming to protect Muslim interests eliminated a Muslim leader who dared to prioritize unity over division. Soomro’s death was not at the hands of Islam’s foes but those who used faith to justify power. His murder underscores the cost of dissent in a movement that brooked no opposition.

A Legacy for Today

As Pakistan grapples with religious extremism and identity crises, Soomro’s story holds vital lessons. The unresolved tensions of its founding—when voices like his were silenced—continue to shape its challenges. Glorifying myths about Pakistan’s creation only deepens these divides. Honoring Soomro means confronting the uncomfortable truths of the past and embracing the values he died for: democracy, justice, and interfaith harmony.

Allah Bux Soomro was more than a Sindhi leader; he was a symbol of what South Asia could have been—a region united by shared ideals, not torn by faith. His mysterious death remains a haunting reminder of the price paid for dissent and the enduring need to reclaim his vision of unity.