Pakistan’s “Ummah message” is clear: solidarity is for wars and slogans, not for marriages, not for everyday equality.

The dream of Muslim unity—or Ummah solidarity—is often invoked in rhetorical, moral, and geopolitical terms. Yet for many Pasmanda and low-caste Muslims across South Asia, that narrative carries within it deep hypocrisy.

It asks suffering communities to rally, to protest, to pledge loyalty to a pan-Islamic identity, when in practice those same communities are neglected, excluded, or discriminated against by the very states and elites claiming to speak for all Muslims.

Caste, Discrimination, and Dissent within Pakistan

The critique of Pakistani “Ummah” rhetoric is not limited to India. Within Pakistan itself, low-caste Muslim communities—what some call “Pasmanda Muslims” there as well—face systemic discrimination rooted in caste-like hierarchies, structural exclusion, and social stigma.

Although Islam in its doctrine rejects caste, in practice the South Asian Muslim world has retained stratification. Scholars and activists have spoken openly of “Sayedism” or “Ashrafization” — the assertion by Sayeds or claimants to noble descent of superiority over lower-status Muslim groups.

In Pakistan, communities such as Mochi (traditional cobblers), Charhoa / Qassar (washer communities), and other artisan or “untouchable” lineage groups (sometimes Darzi, Dhobi, etc.) continue to experience social exclusion, discrimination in marriage, limited property rights, denial of equal respect, and denial of participation in religious authority circles.

An Al Jazeera commentary notes that literal violence, land grabbing, social ostracism, and the silencing of caste disputes in Pakistani media all serve to preserve an illusion that caste does not exist in Muslim society. The caste hierarchies are “publicly silenced but privately enforced”.

Thus, when Pakistani elites broadcast solidarity with distant Muslim struggles, but ignore or suppress demands from low-caste Muslims in their own society, the claim of universal Ummah becomes hollow.

It exposes a divide: those inside the circle of power receive moral voice, those outside it are silenced.

Elite Endogamy and the Hypocrisy of Solidarity

One of the most telling tests of true unity is marriage. In South Asian Muslim societies, marriage is a powerful vector of status, integration, and symbolic equality.

If the Ummah narrative were sincere, one might expect that Muslim elites—whether in Pakistan or India—would intermarry with deserving low-caste or Pasmanda Muslims, as evidence of transcending internal hierarchies. But that rarely happens.

In both Indian and Pakistani Muslim societies, Ashraf (so-called noble or high status) elites typically marry among their own lineages: Sayeds with Sayeds, Sheikhs with Sheikhs, Mirzas with Mirzas. Marriages across caste lines—especially downward—are extremely rare and usually stigmatized.

Anecdotally and observationally, it is almost unheard of for Ashraf elites to openly marry women from Pasmanda communities, or to give wives’ daughters to men from marginalized Muslim castes. Why? Because endogamy is both a social ritual and a power mechanism: it maintains status boundaries, control over lineage, and cultural prestige.

When those elites then preach Ummah solidarity, insisting that Muslims everywhere must unite under one banner, they are demanding emotional allegiance from those whose own status they refuse to cross. It is a double standard: unity in rhetoric, exclusion in practice.

That hypocrisy is especially stark when these elites use Pakistan’s foreign policy or missionary zeal to rally Muslims in India, Afghanistan, Palestine or elsewhere, while shunning egalitarian social relations even within their own societies.

Pakistan’s “Ummah message” is clear: solidarity is for wars and slogans, not for marriages, not for everyday equality.

The Indian Muslim Exclusion from OIC & the One-Sided Cry for Ummah

Consider first the status of Indian Muslims in the broader Muslim world. India is home to perhaps the world’s largest minority Muslim population—over 150-200 million by many estimates.

Yet curiously, Indian Muslims have never enjoyed institutional voice in the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC). The OIC, which claims to represent the collective interests of Muslim nations, has never granted India—even as a non-member Muslim country—a meaningful seat, even consultative status, or real influence in its policymaking.

Critics point out that at the 1969 Rabat Islamic Summit, India was invited, but under pressure from Pakistan was made to withdraw. Pakistani diplomacy and influence have long insisted that India’s Muslim question be mediated through Islamabad’s narratives.

As Middle-east expert Zahack Tanvir puts it, “in five decades … Indian Muslims have never had a seat at the table of the OIC”, leaving India’s vast Muslim population institutionally invisible.

This exclusion is not a mere oversight. It is a structural marker: Indian Muslims are asked repeatedly to “stand for Ummah” in speeches, protests, diplomatic gestures, yet in the actual halls of power they are never granted membership or say. As Zahack aptly asked: “why do Indian Muslims continue to sacrifice … for a ‘brotherhood’ that has consistently ignored and sidelined them?”

The pattern is obvious: Pakistan claims to champion Muslim causes abroad—Kashmir, Palestine, Rohingya—but excludes the very Muslims living inside India from its leadership of that narrative. How can Muslims be united under a banner that denies agency and representation to hundreds of millions at home?

Toward a Sincere, Inclusive Ummah

This critique does not deny the spiritual or moral appeal of Muslim unity. Many Pasmanda Muslims, Indian or Pakistani, do believe in a compassionate Ummah—one of mutual responsibility, equitable rights, and shared dignity.

But they reject the version of Ummah unity that is selective, hypocritical, and exclusionary.

What is demanded instead is an Ummah that begins by correcting the wrongs within: by recognizing the agency of excluded Muslims, by ensuring representation (for example, including Indian Muslims in OIC deliberations), by dismantling caste‐style hierarchies, by encouraging cross-caste marriages as a lived symbol of equality, and by ensuring that solidarity is not just turned outward but applied inward.

Until then, the rejection of Pakistan’s narrative by Pasmanda and low-caste Muslims—whether in India or Pakistan—is not a rejection of faith, but a rejection of being asked to wear unity as a hollow mask.

Real unity must include the oppressed, not merely summon their voices while denying them power.

If you like, I can prepare a version of this for Pakistani audiences, or include more incisive case studies or interviews.

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

Justice Chandrachud’s fresh remark, therefore, risks reigniting controversies which the judgment had carefully attempted to settle.

The Ayodhya dispute has always been one of the most sensitive and divisive issues in independent India. For centuries, the dispute over the Babri Masjid and the claim of it being the birthplace of Lord Ram caused tension, violence, and loss of life. After decades of litigation, the Supreme Court of India delivered its final judgment on 9th November 2019.

As an advocate and as the President of All India Pasmanda Muslim Mahaaz Telangana, my stand at that time was neutral. Not because the judgment was universally fair, but because it was long pending, and because thousands of lives had already been lost to this conflict. Closure was necessary. Endless agitation and litigation would have only deepened divisions and harmed the country further.

When the judgment was delivered, all political parties and communities gave their consent to abide by it. The nation was placed on high alert fearing unrest, but Indian Muslims—despite their disappointment—cooperated peacefully.

Even during the inauguration of the Ram Mandir after prana pratistha (consecration)  in January 2024, Muslims once again displayed patience and tolerance. Many even participated in the ceremony as a gesture of goodwill. These actions demonstrated the mature and tolerant character of Indian Muslims.

Yet today, almost six years later, former Chief Justice of India DY Chandrachud has stirred fresh controversy with his remarks.

Chandrachud’s Controversial Statement

In an interview with Srinivasan Jain on Newslaundry, Justice Chandrachud said that the construction of the Babri Masjid itself was an “act of desecration,” meaning it disrespected something sacred that already existed at the site. Coming from a jurist of his stature, this statement naturally carries weight. But it also raises concerns.

The Supreme Court, in its landmark judgment, consciously avoided such language. The Court dealt with evidence, possession, and patterns of worship, without branding the mosque’s very existence as unlawful or sacrilegious. Justice Chandrachud’s fresh remark, therefore, risks reigniting controversies which the judgment had carefully attempted to settle.

Justice Chandrachud’s recent statement is deeply problematic on two fronts.

First, it directly contradicts the Supreme Court’s own findings. The 2019 judgment never established that a temple was demolished to construct the Babri Masjid. The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) had reported that remains of a 12th-century structure were found beneath the mosque, which itself was built in the 16th century—a gap of nearly four centuries.

Crucially, the ASI admitted it could not prove who destroyed the earlier structure, why it was destroyed, or whether the mosque was deliberately built over it. Recognizing these limitations, the Court made it clear that ownership of the land could not be determined solely on the basis of archaeology.

Despite this, Justice Chandrachud has now described the mosque’s very construction as an “act of desecration,” a remark that goes well beyond the careful balance of the judgment he himself had delivered.

Second, his words risk reigniting tensions that the Court had tried to settle. For Indian Muslims, the statement feels like salt rubbed into an old wound. The community has already borne immense pain and loss over the decades. To now be told that the very act of building their mosque was wrong from the beginning is not only deeply hurtful, but also threatens to undo the fragile peace and understanding that communities had painstakingly built in the aftermath of the judgment.

Justice Muralidhar’s Criticism

It is not just the Muslim community that finds fault with the handling of the Ayodhya case. Former Chief Justice of Odisha High Court, Justice S. Muralidhar, has also been critical of the 2019 verdict.

Justice Muralidhar observed that the judgment was effectively an “authorless judgment”. He also pointed out that sufficient time was not given for mediation. Given the centuries-old nature of the dispute, he argued, the mediation process could have been pursued more seriously to achieve a more consensual outcome.

When asked about this criticism in an interview with journalist Saurabh Trivedi on The Lallantop, Justice Chandrachud responded that the dispute was centuries old, had already claimed many lives, and that closure was necessary for the well-being of society. According to him, the intention of the bench was to end the matter so that the country could move forward.

Ironically, by making his recent statement about “desecration,” Justice Chandrachud has contradicted his own reasoning. Instead of bringing closure, he has reopened wounds and created new controversies.

A Blow to Judicial Credibility

When a retired Chief Justice speaks in ways that contradict a judgment he was part of, it inevitably raises questions about credibility—both of the individual and of the institution he once led.

Justice Chandrachud’s post-retirement interviews, where he repeatedly defends or expands on his judgments, have also come under scrutiny. Instead of clarifying, these interviews are worsening the situation. By taking a polarised stance, he is now being seen by many not as a respectable statesman, but as a controversial figure.

The judiciary is supposed to stand above politics. But such remarks blur the line between law and political narrative.

Illegal Acts Acknowledged, Yet No Accountability

The Ayodhya judgment of 2019 categorically held that both the installation of idols inside the Babri Masjid in December 1949 and the demolition of the mosque in December 1992 were illegal acts. Yet, in the aftermath of the verdict, several individuals—including Members of Parliament at that time—openly boasted on media channels that they were proud to have participated in the demolition.

What is even more shocking is that despite the Supreme Court itself declaring the demolition unlawful, all those accused in the case were later acquitted by a special CBI court, raising serious questions about accountability and the consistency of our justice system.

The Sufferings of Pasmanda Muslims

For Muslims, the Ayodhya judgment was already painful. Thousands of lives—mostly disproportionate Pasmanda Muslims—were lost in the riots and violence that followed the Babri Masjid conflict over the decades. Many Pasmanda Muslims lost their homes, livelihoods, and dignity in the aftermath of this dispute.

To now hear, years later, that the mosque’s construction itself was a “fundamental act of desecration” is not just painful—it is an insult to the memory of those who suffered and a reopening of wounds that had only just begun to heal.

The Absence of Pasmanda Representation in Judiciary

This controversy also forces us to look at a broader problem: the absence of Pasmanda Muslim representation in the higher judiciary.

In 75 years of the Republic, no Pasmanda Muslim has ever risen to the position of Chief Justice of India. In fact, Muslims as a whole are severely underrepresented in the higher judiciary. This absence matters. When decisions and remarks of great consequence are made about our faith, our history, and our future, the lack of Pasmanda voices at the table becomes glaring.

How can justice feel inclusive when entire communities are excluded from positions of power? The judiciary, like the legislature and the executive, must reflect the diversity of India. Otherwise, it remains an elite space dominated by a few privileged groups, leaving Pasmanda Muslims and other marginalized sections unheard.

Justice Chandrachud’s remarks were not just unnecessary—they were damaging. The nation had already moved forward after the 2019 judgment. Muslims, despite their pain, showed maturity, cooperation, and restraint. By reopening this matter, Justice Chandrachud risks disturbing the fragile social fabric once again.

The way forward is not to dwell on divisive statements but to demand greater inclusivity in our institutions. Pasmanda Muslims, who form the overwhelming majority of India’s Muslims, must step forward in education, in the Bar, in the Bench, and in public life. Until our voices are represented in decision-making spaces, justice will always feel incomplete.

India deserves a judiciary that not only delivers justice but also reflects the nation’s true diversity. Only then can peace and harmony be truly secured.

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

As Telangana heads toward local elections, a caste-blind political consensus continues to marginalize the Muslim majority within its own minority.

In India’s southern state of Telangana, a political drama is quietly unfolding — one that exposes the complex and often uncomfortable intersections of religion, caste, and electoral opportunism. As the state prepares for its local body elections expected in late summer 2025, a critical segment of the Muslim population — the Pasmanda community — is once again confronting political invisibility.

Comprising 81% of Telangana’s Muslim population, Pasmanda Muslims represent a mosaic of historically marginalized occupational groups — from butchers and barbers to weavers and tanners. Yet, despite their demographic dominance and backward caste status, they remain conspicuously absent from political leadership and policy-making. Their plight offers a telling glimpse into how electoral democracies can fail the very majorities they claim to represent.

A Demographic Power with Political Silence

India is often celebrated as the world’s largest democracy. But democracy, in form, doesn’t always guarantee inclusivity in substance. In Telangana, Muslims make up roughly 12.56% of the population, and within them, Pasmanda groups are the overwhelming majority. However, representation in political parties, legislative bodies, and even local governance structures remains disproportionately skewed in favor of elite Ashraf Muslims — a minority within the minority.

This disconnect is not merely symbolic; it has tangible socio-economic consequences. Pasmanda communities are consistently ranked among the poorest, least educated, and most job-insecure segments in Indian society. But when it comes to political alliances and candidate selections, their voice is rarely heard.

Congress and the Illusion of Social Justice

The ruling Congress Party, which reclaimed power in Telangana in 2023, has made significant overtures toward caste equity. It recently released long-demanded caste census data and expanded reservations for Backward Classes (BC) in local body elections to 42%. On paper, these are progressive steps.

But the devil lies in the details — or rather, in their absence. While Pasmanda Muslims are classified under BC, no sub-quota or reserved seat allocations have been announced. The risk? That dominant caste groups — both Hindu and Muslim — will continue to monopolize the benefits, leaving Pasmandas with little more than symbolic inclusion.

For a party that brands itself as the custodian of social justice, the refusal to institutionalize representation for the numerically largest Muslim group reeks of electoral calculus, not ideological conviction.

AIMIM: A Partner or a Gatekeeper?

Further complicating matters is Congress’s increasing alignment with the All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (AIMIM), a Hyderabad-based Muslim party led by the influential Owaisi family. While AIMIM positions itself as the voice of Indian Muslims, critics argue that its leadership — drawn from Ashraf elites — has shown little appetite for addressing internal caste disparities within the Muslim community.

To many Pasmanda activists, the Congress-AIMIM partnership is not a bridge but a barrier. It effectively outsources Muslim political representation to a party that has historically sidelined backward caste Muslims. The result? A political paradox in which the Muslim majority within Telangana’s Muslims is structurally locked out of power, even in elections meant to empower the grassroots.

BJP’s Pasmanda Rhetoric: Inclusion in the North, Exclusion in the South

At the national level, India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has launched an aggressive campaign to court Pasmanda Muslims, particularly in northern states like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has invoked their historical marginalization in multiple speeches, presenting the BJP as a party that transcends religious lines in its fight against caste inequality.

Yet in Telangana, the BJP sings a different tune. Its state unit has vehemently opposed the inclusion of Pasmanda Muslims in the BC list, citing religious objections. This double standard not only undermines the central leadership’s narrative but also exposes a deeper contradiction — one where caste equality is conditional upon geography and political expedience.

Pasmanda Voices: Demanding Justice, Not Charity

From within the community, frustration is mounting. Mohammed Shabbeer, working president of a Pasmanda advocacy group, puts it plainly: “Numbers mean nothing without representation. Congress hides behind broad quotas, and BJP hides behind religious lines. Neither wants to genuinely empower us.”

Shukuroddin, who leads an association representing backward Muslim groups like the Dudekulas and Noorbash, echoes this sentiment: “We are always good enough to vote, but never good enough to lead. This isn’t inclusion — it’s electoral exploitation.”

These voices don’t demand charity. They demand justice — a fair share of political space in accordance with their demographic reality.

The Global Lens: Why This Story Matters

For an international audience watching India’s democratic evolution, the Pasmanda issue is more than a local or sectarian squabble. It’s a case study in how caste hierarchies can fracture even ostensibly unified religious identities. It is also a reminder that marginalization operates in layers — and that the language of rights must reach beyond majoritarian binaries of Hindu and Muslim.

In a world grappling with the politics of inclusion — from African-Americans in the U.S. to migrant communities in Europe — the Pasmanda struggle adds a uniquely South Asian dimension to a global conversation.

Will the Cycle Finally Break?

As Telangana moves toward local elections, the answer to whether Pasmanda Muslims will finally gain real representation is far from clear. What is clear, however, is that continued silence — both institutional and electoral — will only deepen existing fissures.

Democracy thrives not merely on votes, but on voice. Unless Telangana’s political parties are willing to recognize the latter, the largest segment of its Muslim population will remain politically invisible — again.

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

Indian Muslims are not just part of India’s future. They are helping to create it.

A popular narrative aggressively pushed in the international media is that Indian Muslims are oppressed, unsafe, and voiceless. Unfortunately, many—both within and outside India—still buy into this rusted propaganda. It paints a bleak picture of victimhood and exclusion, often ignoring the lived realities and actual progress of Muslims across the country.

But beyond this outdated and politically motivated narrative lies a far brighter, bolder, and more grounded truth: Indian Muslims are not just surviving—they are thriving. From civic activism in Delhi’s Seelampur to entrepreneurship in Bengaluru, from World Cup victories to legal advocacy, Muslims across India are shaping their identity through education, democratic participation, innovation, and resilience.

Community Participation: Grassroots Power and Local Leadership

From narrow lanes to open fields, from rural bastis to urban settlements, Muslim communities are quietly but powerfully transforming their surroundings. In places like Seelampur in Delhi, Kishanganj in Bihar, and parts of Hyderabad and Bengaluru, locals are coming together to run evening schools, healthcare camps, and vocational training centers.

What makes this effort remarkable is its community-led nature. Whether it’s women teaching literacy in local madrasas, youth groups spreading digital awareness, or NGOs providing scholarships, Muslims are choosing action over apathy, proving that true change begins from within. These initiatives show how local efforts can create national impact, and how compassion, unity, and service define real leadership.

Across India, Muslims are participating in democracy with greater conviction and clarity. From voting in record numbers to contesting panchayat, municipal, and state elections, the community is increasingly aware that political engagement is empowerment.

Parties like the Indian Union Muslim League (IUML) in Kerala and All India United Democratic Front [AIUDF]  in Assam have long reflected strong regional aspirations. Meanwhile, new political energies are rising, with youth-led forums, independent candidates, and Pasmanda coalitions pushing for inclusive representation.

Rather than being boxed into stereotypes or reduced to a “vote bank,” Muslims today are asserting their place in politics as equal stakeholders in the Indian democratic project.

Socio-Economic Growth: A Quiet Revolution

Despite socio-economic challenges, Indian Muslims are turning adversity into opportunity. Across the country, young Muslims are breaking generational barriers, entering fields like technology, law, medicine, digital media, and entrepreneurship. Startups run by Muslims in Bengaluru and Hyderabad are making headlines, while artisans from Kashmir to Tamil Nadu are reviving traditional crafts with global flair.

Pasmanda Muslims in particular are embracing change with boldness – sending their children to school, seeking skill-based jobs, and tapping into government and private opportunities. The growth of community microfinance, women-run cooperatives, and online learning platforms is enabling them to step into a new era of progress with confidence.

This quiet revolution is powered by faith, family, education, and a determination to create a better tomorrow.

From bustling marketplaces to tech startups, Muslim entrepreneurs are innovating, building, and thriving. Their businesses, be it in food, textiles, fashion, or digital spaces blend traditional skills with modern innovation, creating employment and preserving cultural legacies.

More Muslim women and youth are entering business with confidence, supported by community-led initiatives and digital platforms. Their success stories are inspiring and show that talent and hard work know no barriers. Muslim entrepreneurs are not just economic contributors, they’re culture-keepers, job creators, and visionaries building a better tomorrow.

Civic Participation: Youth, Women, and New Voices Rising

Indian Muslims are no longer waiting to be included-they are making space for themselves. From campus activism to legal advocacy, from media awareness campaigns to environmental initiatives, Muslim youth are at the forefront of civic change. Students from institutions like Jamia Millia Islamia and  Aligarh Muslim university, are building coalitions across communities to protect constitutional values and ensure everyone’s voice is heard.

Indian Muslim women are leading too — organizing health awareness drives, running schools, and becoming lawyers, entrepreneurs, and elected representatives. Their courage is reshaping the narrative and inspiring future generations to aim higher.

In stadiums across the nation, Indian Muslims are not only participating in sports, they are excelling, inspiring, and breaking barriers. Their achievements are rewriting narratives and reaffirming that talent knows no religion, only determination and dreams.

Take the example of Mohammed Shami, whose breathtaking performance in the 2023 Cricket World Cup was not just about wickets — it became a symbol of national pride. From humble beginnings in Uttar Pradesh to becoming India’s strike bowler, Shami’s journey inspired millions, transcending religious divides and uniting cricket fans across communities.

Alongside him, Mohammed Siraj has emerged as a fast-bowling force, celebrated not just for his talent, but for his emotional journey, including his tribute to his late father during India’s historic win in Australia.

In tennis, Sania Mirza stands as an icon of women’s empowerment and sporting excellence. As a Muslim woman who dominated global tennis rankings while proudly embracing her identity, Sania has become a role model for girls across India — especially from minority communities — proving that boundaries are meant to be broken.

Young Muslim athletes are also rising in sports like football, wrestling, boxing, and athletics. Across Kashmir, Kerala, Hyderabad, and West Bengal, local tournaments often spotlight Muslim talents, many of whom come from modest backgrounds and dream of representing India on the world stage. Academies and training camps run in community centers and minority-dominated areas are nurturing these dreams, showing how access and encouragement can change lives.

Importantly, young Muslim women are claiming their space in the sporting world too. Initiatives like Girls Kick Football Academy , and rising stars in boxing like Tabassum Pasha, are leading a quiet revolution – challenging stereotypes, inspiring the next generation, and reminding the nation that the future of Indian sports lies in its diversity.

In every sprint, serve, and six, these athletes reflect a spirit of resilience and unity. Their stories remind us that sports, at its best, mirrors the country we aspire to be — inclusive, aspirational, and full of heart.

Representation: From Silence to Strength

For too long, the question of Muslim representation in India was limited to numbers. But today, it is about voice, visibility, and value. Whether in law courts, newsrooms, legislatures, or classrooms, Muslims are demanding and gaining spaces that reflect their realities and ambitions.

What’s heartening is that the new wave of leadership is not confined to religion or identity alone. It is intersectional, inclusive, and idea-driven. From Pasmanda activists to Hindu-Muslim coalitions, from Muslim women’s rights defenders to secular regional parties: the message is clear: Muslims are no longer on the margins. They are shaping the center.

India’s Muslim community, with its rich cultural legacy and youthful energy, is moving forward with purpose and pride. They are not just surviving, they are building, learning, leading, and contributing to the national vision of progress and pluralism.

As this vibrant community continues to dream, organize, and uplift one another, one truth becomes more visible than ever: Indian Muslims are not just part of India’s future. They are helping to create it.

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

Recognizing caste within the Muslim population isn’t a threat to unity; it’s a path toward justice.

In a landmark shift, India’s central government has decided to include caste data in the upcoming national census—the first time such a detailed caste count will take place since 1931. On paper, it’s a technical change. But for millions of India’s most invisible citizens, it’s potentially transformative.

Among those who stand to gain the most are Pasmanda Muslims—a broad umbrella term that includes Dalit, Adivasi, and other backward-class Muslim communities. Despite being the numerical majority among India’s Muslims, Pasmandas have long lived in the shadows of policy, politics, and even community representation.

A recent caste survey in Telangana revealed something telling: nearly 80% of the state’s Muslims belong to Pasmanda backgrounds. It was a statistic that didn’t surprise social scientists or grassroots activists—but it was a rare moment of clarity in a country where Muslim identity is often painted with one broad brushstroke.

That simplification has done real harm. The Indian Muslim is frequently seen as a singular, undivided bloc—one minority, one vote bank, one voice. But that narrative erases the deep social hierarchies and caste divisions within the community itself. And Pasmandas, who bear the brunt of poverty, discrimination, and social exclusion, are the ones who disappear from view.

Within the community, elite Muslim groups—those traditionally seen as Ashraf or upper caste—have dominated platforms of power: political parties, religious boards, cultural institutions, and media narratives. Meanwhile, Pasmandas have remained underrepresented, often struggling with lower literacy rates, poorer healthcare, and fewer job opportunities.

The last significant spotlight on Muslim marginalization came nearly two decades ago, through the Sachar Committee Report in 2006. Its findings were damning: many Muslim groups, especially those from Pasmanda backgrounds, fared worse than Scheduled Castes in key development indicators. Yet the lack of caste-disaggregated data meant that policies based on these findings were broad and ineffective. Everyone got lumped together. And as usual, those at the bottom lost out.

That’s why this new caste census matters. It could offer, for the first time in independent India, a full picture of caste realities within the Muslim community. It could provide a foundation for smarter, more targeted policies—ones that don’t just benefit “Muslims” in general, but specifically uplift those most in need.

It also corrects a historical oversight. During British rule, caste among Muslims was acknowledged and documented. The 1901 and 1931 censuses classified Muslims into categories like Ashraf (nobles), Ajlaf (backward), and Arzal (Dalit or “untouchable”). These categories were crude, but they at least reflected a social truth. After independence, however, India adopted a more homogenized view of its minorities—particularly Muslims—and quietly dropped caste from the conversation.

This erasure wasn’t just bureaucratic. It had real consequences. In 1950, Dalit Muslims lost their eligibility for Scheduled Caste (SC) reservations. To this day, they are denied affirmative action on the basis of caste, despite experiencing the same structural discrimination as their Hindu Dalit counterparts.

Welfare schemes and affirmative policies, designed without acknowledging these internal hierarchies, have repeatedly missed their mark. Upper-caste Muslims—though a minority within the minority—have often been the primary beneficiaries. Pasmandas remain at the margins.

For the upcoming census to make a difference, it must be handled transparently and without political interference. The data should be released in full. No filters. No spin. Only then can it serve as a blueprint for real change.

This isn’t about dividing communities—it’s about understanding them. Recognizing caste within the Muslim population isn’t a threat to unity; it’s a path toward justice. It gives voice to those who have long been ignored and lays the groundwork for more inclusive policies.

For Pasmanda Muslims, this census isn’t just a count. It’s a chance to be seen.

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

Minister of Minority Affairs, Kiren Rijiju introduced the bill rooted with history, practicality, and the realities faced by Pasmanda community.

On April 2, 2025, the Lok Sabha bore witness to a remarkable display of democratic resilience and legislative fortitude as the Government of India successfully passed the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, after a marathon 12-hour debate. This historic achievement is not merely a legislative victory but a testament to the strength of India’s democratic institutions, the meticulous process undertaken by the government, and the unwavering unity of the National Democratic Alliance (NDA).

The journey of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, has been one of deliberation and inclusivity. Recognizing the complexity and sensitivity of the issue, the government wisely referred the bill to a Joint Parliamentary Committee (JPC) for thorough scrutiny. The JPC, chaired by Shri Jagdambika Pal and comprising members from across the political spectrum, conducted extensive consultations, gathering inputs from stakeholders, experts, and civil society. Even the All India Pasmanda Muslim Mahaaz had the opportunity to present its suggestions and objections.

This process ensured that the legislation was not rushed but refined through a rigorous examination, addressing concerns while strengthening its framework. The successful passage of the bill in the Lok Sabha—by a decisive margin of 288 votes in favor to 232 against—reflects the confidence that the NDA coalition reposed in the government’s vision and the robustness of the JPC’s efforts. The debate was marked by intense exchanges, with the government defending the bill as a measure to improve Waqf property management, while the opposition criticized it as unconstitutional and anti-minority.

Minister of Minority Affairs, Kiren Rijiju introduced the bill rooted with history, practicality, and the realities faced by Pasmanda community. Waqf properties were originally meant for the welfare of the underprivileged, yet they have rarely served their intended purpose. Instead, over the years, they have become a playground for politicians, Waqf Board officials, and Mutawallis (caretakers), who have manipulated these assets for personal gains. The rampant corruption and mismanagement of Waqf properties have led the government to intervene and introduce amendments.

While many Muslim leaders and organizations are vehemently opposing the bill, All India Pasmanda Muslim Mahaaz considered it essential to acknowledge the dire need for reforms. Waqf properties hold vast potential to uplift marginalized Muslim communities, particularly the Pasmanda Muslims, who form the majority but have historicaly been neglected. Unfortunately, these properties have been plagued by corruption, illegal encroachments, and poor administration. AIPMM actively participated in the JPC meetings on the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, offering a series of constructive suggestions to enhance the legislation. The Ministry of Minority Affairs, recognizing the merit of AIPMM’s inputs, accepted several key recommendations, reflecting a commitment to inclusivity and efficiency in Waqf management.

These include the introduction of a “Waqf by User” provision to safeguard existing Waqf properties, the establishment of an appellate system within Waqf Tribunals to ensure fair dispute resolution, and measures for the efficient management and maintenance of Waqf records to promote transparency. Additionally, the ministry embraced AIPMM’s call for regular audits of revenue from rent, lease, and sub-lease to curb financial mismanagement, alongside the inclusion of Pasmanda Muslims and women in the management of Waqf Boards, ensuring diverse representation and addressing long-standing demands for equity within the community. This collaboration between AIPMM and the government underscores a progressive step toward reforming Waqf administration in India.

The Opposition’s Rhetoric and Fear-Mongering

One of the biggest issues with the current discourse surrounding the bill is the irresponsible approach of the opposition and certain Muslim organizations. Instead of constructively engaging with the government to suggest practical improvements, they are using the bill as a tool to incite fear and insecurity among common Muslims.

The rhetoric surrounding the bill is focused more on accusing the government of anti-Muslim motives rather than addressing the real issues plaguing Waqf institutions. If these organizations had properly managed the Waqf system over the years, there would have been no need for government intervention in the first place.

By spreading propaganda and half-truths, these groups are attempting to politically mobilize Muslims rather than ensuring genuine reforms. Pasmanda Muslims, who have historically been denied the benefits of Waqf, must not fall prey to these misleading narratives. Instead, we must demand concrete improvements that will truly help our community.

The blind opposition by certain Muslim leaders will only serve political interests rather than benefiting the community. It is time for Pasmanda Muslims to take charge of the narrative and demand reforms that genuinely serve the underprivileged.

Pasmanda Muslims, who have been historically sidelined, must not allow themselves to be used as pawns in political battles. Instead, we should advocate for meaningful reforms, ensuring that Waqf properties are managed efficiently, transparently, and justly. This is a crucial opportunity to hold the system accountable and demand a fair share of Waqf benefits for the most disadvantaged members of our community.

The opposition and certain Muslim organizations must also reflect on their own failures in managing Waqf properties before blaming the government. Instead of spreading fear and misinformation, they should work towards ensuring better governance and accountability within the Waqf system.

During the marathon debate on the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, in the Lok Sabha on April 2, 2025, Indian Union Home Minister Amit Shah delivered a masterful performance that left the opposition reeling. Armed with a barrage of facts, statistics, and a clear articulation of the bill’s intent, Shah dismantled the opposition’s arguments, rendering them speechless. He meticulously schooled them on the purpose and proper utilization of Waqf properties, emphasizing the need for transparency and accountability—principles the bill seeks to enshrine. Shah’s commanding presence turned the tide of the debate, exposing the opposition’s rhetoric as hollow in the face of evidence.

BJP MP Ravi Shankar Prasad reinforced the government’s stance, asserting that including women and Pasmanda Muslims in the management of Waqf Boards is not just a reform but a constitutional right, amplifying the bill’s progressive ethos. The opposition, despite its fervor, found itself silenced, unable to counter the government’s robust case. AIMIM leader Asaduddin Owaisi attempted to score theoretical points, raising some valid concerns, but his credibility was undermined by allegations that he and his party have encroached upon 80% of Waqf properties in Hyderabad and Telangana.

As the Urdu proverb goes, “Chor ki daadhi mein tinka”—the thief’s beard betrays a straw—Owaisi’s critique rang hollow, overshadowed by his own questionable record. The debate, thus, emerged as a triumph for the government’s clarity and resolve.

However, the true success of these amendments hinges on their effective implementation, which we anticipate will yield positive outcomes for all stakeholders. For Pasmanda Muslims, in particular, embracing a balanced approach—supporting these reforms while actively participating in their execution—will be crucial to ensuring their upliftment. This historic moment offers hope for a more equitable future, provided the spirit of the law translates into tangible progress on the ground.

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