Maulana Azad’s Idea of Rabubiyat, Secularism, and Nationalism

Maulana Abul Kalam Azad (1888–1958) remains one of the most compelling figures in India’s intellectual and political history. An Islamic scholar of immense learning, a formidable freedom fighter, and India’s first Education Minister, Azad shaped the foundations of India’s pluralist identity. His legacy was not confined to his political achievements; it extended deeply into philosophical and theological realms. At the heart of Azad’s worldview was the Quranic concept of Rabubiyat, i.e., God’s lordship, sustenance, and care over all creation. For Azad, Rabubiyat was more than a theological proposition. it was a moral principle that shaped his understanding of justice, secularism, and nationalism. Grounding his politics in Islamic ethics, Azad articulated a vision of India as a united, inclusive nation.

The foundation of Azad’s political theology was the Quranic description of God as Rabb al-‘Alamin—“the Lord of all the worlds”—a title that opens the Quran itself in Surah Al-Fatiha (1:2): “Alhamdu lillahi Rabbil ‘alamin” (“All praise is due to Allah, Lord of the worlds”). Azad understood this phrase not as a generic invocation but as an assertion of divine sustainment that embraces all of creation without partiality. In his commentary Tarjuman al-Quran, he emphasized that if God is the sustainer of all that exists, then the ethical implications are profound: no human being or community can claim superiority over another. The oneness of God (tawhid) necessarily implies the oneness of humanity and the indivisibility of its moral worth.

This theological vision found further grounding in Surah Al-Hujurat (49:13), which declares: “O mankind! We created you from a single pair of male and female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know one another. Verily, the most honored of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous among you. Indeed, Allah is All-Knowing, All-Aware.” For Azad, this verse provided divine sanction for human diversity. It affirmed that distinctions of nation, tribe, or ethnicity were not causes for division but opportunities for mutual recognition and respect. From this scriptural basis, Azad argued that sectarianism, racism, and nationalism premised on exclusion were all violations of God’s intent. The divine order, or mizan, as he described it, demands a just balance among all people, and both colonial domination and religious communalism disrupted this balance.

Though Azad did not explicitly use the term Rabubiyat in a formalized doctrine, his interpretation was later echoed and crystallized by figures like Maulana Abdul Hamid Khan Bhashani, who described it as the principle of “undivided equality of all people irrespective of caste, nationality, and religion.” Azad’s writings and speeches clearly anticipated this definition. In Al-Hilal, his groundbreaking political journal, he condemned British colonialism not just as a foreign occupation but as an affront to divine justice. Exploitation of India’s resources, economic subjugation, and cultural alienation were, in Azad’s view, contrary to the Quranic ethics of stewardship and human dignity.

Azad’s understanding of secularism flowed naturally from this moral universe. His secularism was not based on the European model that demands the exclusion of religion from politics. Rather, it was a spiritual secularism that allowed religious diversity to flourish under a shared ethical canopy. Azad found support for this view in Quranic verses such as Surah Al-Baqarah (2:62), which affirms: “Indeed, those who believed, and those who were Jews or Christians or Sabians— those [among them] who believed in God and the Last Day and did righteousness— will have their reward with their Lord. No fear will there be concerning them, nor will they grieve.” This verse, for Azad, was a theological affirmation of religious pluralism. It undercut any claims to exclusivist salvation and instead emphasized righteousness and ethical action as the true basis of divine reward.

Azad’s commitment to this pluralism was not theoretical; it had profound political implications. During the 1940 Ramgarh session of the Indian National Congress, he famously declared: “I am a Muslim and profoundly conscious of that fact… But I am equally proud that I am an Indian.” This was no mere rhetorical flourish. It was a statement of his belief that religious identity and national identity were not contradictory but complementary. His opposition to the Muslim League’s demand for Pakistan was grounded in this ethical framework. Azad warned that dividing India along religious lines would not heal communal tensions but deepen them, violating both the spirit of Islam and the cultural unity of the subcontinent.

After independence, Azad carried these principles into governance. As India’s first Education Minister, he laid the foundation for a modern, democratic, and inclusive educational infrastructure. He established institutions such as the Indian Institutes of Technology (IITs) and the University Grants Commission (UGC) not merely to modernize India but to democratize knowledge. For him, education was a moral imperative and a way to create citizens who were both intellectually competent and spiritually aware. He championed linguistic unity between Hindi and Urdu, promoted scientific inquiry alongside cultural preservation, and encouraged a composite nationalism that drew from India’s pluralistic heritage.

Azad’s nationalism was inseparable from his Islamic ethics. He did not view the struggle for independence as a secular battle alone; it was a form of jihad in its truest sense—a spiritual and moral struggle against injustice. He invoked verses such as Surah Al-Hajj (22:39–40), which states: “Permission [to fight] has been given to those who are being fought, because they were wronged. And indeed, Allah is competent to give them victory— [They are] those who have been evicted from their homes without right— only because they say, ‘Our Lord is Allah.’ And were it not that Allah checks the people, some by means of others, there would have been demolished monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques in which the name of Allah is much mentioned.” Azad interpreted this as a divine endorsement of resistance to oppression and a call to protect all places of worship, not just Islamic ones. This, he believed, was the true spirit of Islam: to stand against tyranny and to safeguard the dignity of all religious traditions.

His opposition to Partition was rooted in this profound theological and moral vision. He believed that India’s diverse religious and cultural landscape was a divine design, not a historical accident. “To divide India,” he wrote, “is to deny God’s wisdom in creating a land where multiple faiths coexist.” His 1946 speech in Delhi was a passionate plea for unity and a prophetic warning against the bloodshed and displacement that Partition would bring. Tragically, his fears were realized, but his vision of a united India has remained an enduring ideal.

For Azad, the cultural syncretism of India, its Sufi shrines, Bhakti poetry, shared festivals, and multilingual traditions, were not superficial symbols but deep manifestations of Rabubiyat in the Indian context. He saw in India a unique civilizational experiment where multiple truths could coexist, enriching rather than negating one another. His concept of composite nationalism was, therefore, both a political strategy and a spiritual commitment. While it shared some affinities with Gandhi’s idea of Ram Rajya, Azad’s vision was distinctly Islamic, rooted in Quranic ethics and a theology of justice and diversity.

Azad’s thought forms a coherent and compelling triad: Rabubiyat as the theological foundation of universal human dignity; secularism as the ethical mode of governance that protects religious plurality; and nationalism as the civic expression of a united, inclusive community. His educational reforms were an extension of this framework. They were not aimed merely at increasing literacy rates but at cultivating morally grounded citizens who embodied values of compassion (rahma), justice (adl), and moral responsibility (taqwa). The institutions he helped build—like the IITs—were, for him, symbols of how spiritual values and scientific advancement could coexist in a harmonious society.

In contemporary India, grappling with the resurgence of communal politics and majoritarian nationalism, Azad’s ideas remain profoundly relevant. His vision offers a powerful counter-narrative to exclusionary ideologies, reminding us that pluralism is not just a political arrangement but a spiritual truth. During the protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019 (CAA) in 2020, many demonstrators carried posters with Azad’s quotes and verses he had often cited, invoking him as a moral compass in troubled times. While some critics argue that Azad underestimated the depth of communal divisions, his emphasis on education, justice, and ethical governance continues to offer a compelling path forward.

Maulana Azad’s Rabubiyat was never a mere abstraction. It was a revolutionary philosophy that infused his politics with a profound sense of moral purpose. His secularism did not seek to marginalize religion but to elevate shared values above sectarian interests. His nationalism did not aim for homogeneity but celebrated India’s diversity as a reflection of divine intent. At a time when the world seems increasingly divided by race, religion, and nationalism, Azad’s life and thought remind us that true sovereignty begins with recognizing the sanctity of human dignity. As he himself once said: “The essence of secularism is not the rejection of religion, but the rejection of any form of discrimination.” In that statement lies a vision as necessary today as it was in his time.

The Waqf Amendment: Addressing a Misinformation Campaign

A pervasive misinformation campaign, particularly on social media platforms, falsely claims that the doctrine of waqf by user allows Muslims to claim public spaces as waqf property simply by offering prayers there, such as a few instances of namaz in a park or street. This narrative wrongly suggests that waqf by user facilitates arbitrary land grabs, threatening public or private properties. Such claims are legally baseless, as waqf by user under Islamic jurisprudence and Indian law requires prolonged, consistent, and public use for religious, pious, or charitable purposes, often spanning decades or centuries, supported by historical records or community practices. Sporadic acts like offering prayers in public do not meet these stringent criteria, as courts and the Waqf Act, 1995, demand substantial evidence of dedication. The false claims have intensified after 2025 amendment delegalising waqf by user drawing considerable criticism of the legislative interference on this score. This misinformation fuels communal tensions and distorts the legal and religious framework of waqf, necessitating a clear refutation through legal analysis, judicial precedents, a comparison with analogous common law principles, and the Supreme Court’s recent stance on the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025.

This is a brief view of the issue touching on legal definition of waqf by user, a comparison with custom having the force of law in common law jurisdictions, references to decided cases, an analysis of the 2025 amendments, the Supreme Court’s stand during hearings on petitions challenging these amendments, and a rebuttal of the misinformation campaign.

What is the definition of waqf by user as per Islamic Jurisprudence?In Islamic law, waqf is the permanent dedication of movable or immovable property for religious, pious, or charitable purposes, with ownership symbolically transferred to God, ensuring the property’s usufruct serves beneficiaries perpetually. Waqf by user recognizes a property as waqf based on its prolonged and consistent use for such purposes, even without a formal deed (waqfnama). This doctrine is rooted in the Hanafi school, prevalent in India, which defines waqf as the detention of a specific property in God’s implied ownership, with profits devoted to charity (per Imam Abu Hanifa, Abu Yusuf, and Imam Muhammad). Waqf by user reflects the principle that long-term, public use for Islamic purposes, like maintaining a mosque, graveyard, or madrasa, demonstrates the waqif’s intent of dedication.

The foundation of waqf lies in hadiths, notably one narrated by Ibn Umar (Sahih Bukhari), where the Prophet advised Umar ibn al-Khattab to dedicate land in Khaybar as waqf, emphasizing inalienability and charitable use. Waqf by user extends this by inferring dedication from immemorial usage.

What does Indian Waqf Law say about this? The Waqf Act, 1995 (amended in 2013) governs waqf in India, defining it under Section 3(r) as “the permanent dedication by any person, of any movable or immovable property for any purpose recognized by the Muslim law as pious, religious or charitable.” Section 3(r)(i) explicitly recognizes waqf by user, stating that a waqf includes “a waqf by user but such waqf shall not cease to be a waqf by reason only of the user having ceased irrespective of the period of such cesser.” This provision acknowledges properties used for religious or charitable purposes over a long period as waqf, even if their use temporarily ceases, provided the original purpose was pious.

A closer look will show some key features of waqf by user in Indian Law. These are as follows:

1 No Formal Deed Required: Waqf by user does not necessitate a written waqfnama; dedication is inferred from prolonged public use.

2 Perpetuity and Inalienability: Once recognized, the property is inalienable, cannot be sold, gifted, or inherited, and its benefits serve the designated purpose.

3 Judicial Recognition: Courts rely on evidence like historical records, revenue documents, or community testimonies to establish waqf status.

 4 Survey and Registration: State Waqf Boards identify waqf by user through surveys, local inquiries, and public records.

At this point a comparative view of waqf by user and custom having force of law in Common Law Jurisdictions would not be out of place as both share conceptual similarities inasmuch as both rely on long-standing, consistent practices to establish legal rights or statuses without formal documentation. However, they differ in their legal foundations, scope, and application. Below is a detailed comparison, integrated here to provide a broader legal context for understanding waqf by user:

 1 Definition and Basis:

Waqf by user recognizes a property as waqf based on its prolonged, consistent, and public use for religious, pious, or charitable purposes under Islamic law, as codified in the Waqf Act, 1995 (Section 3(r)(i)). It is rooted in the Hanafi school’s principle of divine ownership and perpetual charity, with judicial recognition requiring evidence of immemorial use (e.g., Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board, 1998).

Custom in common law  is a long-established practice that, if certain conditions are met, acquires the force of law within a specific locality or community. It is recognized in common law jurisdictions (e.g., England, India, and other former British colonies) as a source of law, particularly for property rights or communal practices. For example, a village green used for recreation for centuries may be recognized as a customary right under English law.

 2 Requirements for Recognition:

Waqf by user requires (i) prolonged and consistent use (often decades or centuries), (ii) a purpose recognized by Islamic law (e.g., mosque, graveyard), (iii) public and uninterrupted use, and (iv) evidence like historical records or community testimony. Courts emphasize the intent of dedication to God, as seen in Abdul Sakur v. Abu Bakkar (1930) 54 Bom 358.

Custom in common law must satisfy strict criteria, as outlined in English law (e.g., Halsbury’s Laws of England): (i) antiquity (immemorial or long-standing use, typically pre-1189 in England, though relaxed in India); (ii) continuity (uninterrupted practice); (iii) peaceable enjoyment (without opposition); (iv) certainty (clearly defined practice); (v) reasonableness (not contrary to public policy); and (vi) obligatory (binding on the community). In India, the Supreme Court in State of Bihar v. Subodh Gopal Bose (1968) AIR 1968 SC 281 recognized custom as a source of law if it meets these tests.

3 Legal Effect:

Once recognized as waqf by user the property becomes waqf, inalienable, and perpetually dedicated to its religious or charitable purpose. It cannot be sold, gifted, or inherited, and its status is protected by the principle of “once a waqf, always a waqf” (Sayyed Ali, 1998).

A recognized custom also creates legally enforceable rights, such as communal access to land (e.g., right of way, grazing rights) or exemptions from certain laws. For example, in R. v. Oxfordshire County Council (1999) UKHL, the House of Lords upheld a village green’s customary status based on long-term recreational use. Unlike waqf, custom does not transfer ownership to a divine entity but establishes usage rights.

 4 Judicial Scrutiny:

 Indian courts rigorously scrutinize claims, requiring robust evidence of long-term use, as seen in the Ramjanmabhoomi Case (2019) 8 SCC 1, where the Sunni Waqf Board’s waqf by user claim was evaluated against historical evidence.

 In case of custom in courts also apply strict tests, often rejecting customs that fail to meet antiquity or certainty. In India, Laxmi v. Bhagwan (1973) AIR 1973 SC 250 upheld a customary right to irrigation based on long-standing village practice, but only after verifying its continuity and acceptance.

 5 Similarities:

 a) Both rely on long-term, consistent practice to establish legal status without formal documentation.

 b) Both require public acceptance and uninterrupted use, ensuring the practice is embedded in community tradition.

 c) Both are subject to judicial scrutiny, with courts demanding evidence of historical use (e.g., revenue records for waqf by user, local testimonies for custom).

d) Both protect common interests, whether religious (waqf) or societal (customary rights like access to commons).

 The misinformation campaign about waqf by user ignores its similarity to custom, a respected common law principle. Just as sporadic use of a village green does not establish a customary right, occasional prayers in a public space cannot create a waqf by user. Both doctrines require substantial evidence, countering false claims of arbitrary land grabs. This comparison highlights that waqf by user, like custom in common law, is a robust legal mechanism rooted in historical practice, not a tool for opportunistic claims, as misrepresented by misinformation campaigns.

The claim that waqf by user allows Muslims to claim public places as waqf by offering prayers is a gross misrepresentation as (i) waqf by user requires prolonged and consistent use for religious or charitable purposes, typically over decades or centuries, not sporadic acts like offering namaz in a public place. Courts have held that the use must be public, uninterrupted, and reflective of a clear intent to dedicate the property as waqf (Abdul Sakur v. Abu Bakkar, 1930). (ii) Sporadic prayers in a park or street do not constitute “user” under the Waqf Act, as they lack permanence and exclusivity. The Supreme Court in Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board (1998) clarified that waqf by user requires immemorial or substantial use, supported by historical or documentary evidence. (iii) Courts reject frivolous waqf by user claims lacking evidence of prolonged use. In the Ramjanmabhoomi Case (2019), the Supreme Court required robust evidence of continuous religious use, demonstrating rigorous scrutiny. (iv) The Waqf Act, 1995 mandates Waqf Boards to verify claims through surveys and inquiries, ensuring only genuine waqf properties are recognized. (v) Section 6 of the Waqf Act allows challenges to waqf notifications, protecting public and private properties. The Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, introduces stricter verification, further preventing misuse. (vi) posts on social media falsely claimed that offering namaz in a public park could convert it into waqf, ignoring the legal threshold for waqf by user. Such misinformation contradicts judicial precedents and statutory requirements, exploiting communal sentiments. (vii) Practical eality also goes against such fearing mongering. Of 872,852 waqf properties in India, only 13,200 are disputed, and most waqf by user properties are historical mosques, graveyards, or madrasas with centuries-old usage, some even stretching back to 14th, 15th or 16th centuries. Claims over public spaces are highly unlikely and would be dismissed by courts.

Indian courts have consistently upheld waqf by user while ensuring it is not misused. Key cases include:

1 Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board (1998) (AIR 1998 SC 972) where waqf by user was recognised as a valid mode, emphasizing prolonged use for religious purposes. Affirmed “once a waqf, always a waqf.” The decision clarified that waqf by user requires substantial evidence, refuting claims that sporadic acts suffice.

2 M. Ismail v. Thakur Sabir Ali (1962) (AIR 1962 SC 1722) where it is held that waqf properties, including those by user, are dedicated to God, with clear evidence of religious use sufficing. The decision einforced the need for consistent use.

 3 Ramjanmabhoomi Case (2019) (2019) 8 SCC 1) where waqf by user was acknowledged but required robust evidence of continuous religious use, scrutinizing the Sunni Waqf Board’s claim. This case emonstrated judicial rigor as opposed to fear mongering by misinformation campaign.

 4 Kassimiah Charities v. Secretary, Madras State Waqf Board (1964) (AIR 1964 Mad 227). The decision ecognized waqf by user for properties dedicated through long-term charitable use and larified the legal basis for waqf by user.

5 Abdul Sakur v. Abu Bakkar (1930) (1930) 54 Bom 358). Here the court upheld waqf by user for a mosque based on long-term use, stressing clear intent and evidence. This case stablished that waqf by user requires sustained practice.

The Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, introduces drastic changes to waqf regulation, including provisions affecting waqf by user. These amendments, debated in the Joint Parliamentary Committee (JPC) and challenged in the Supreme Court, have sparked apprehension among both minorities and constitutionalists. The original draft proposed abolishing waqf by user, requiring formal deeds to establish waqf. Abolishing waqf by user would have destabilizing affect on historical waqf properties, such as centuries-old mosques or graveyards, lacking documentation due to oral or customary traditions. On recommendation of JPC the revised Act retained waqf by user in an infective and diluted form providing that properties registered as waqf by user before the Act’s enactment would retain their status unless disputed or identified as government land. New claims post-2025 would require stricter evidence (e.g., historical records). New law further requires that waqf by user properties must be verified by district collectors or Waqf Tribunals, with provision of appeals to High Courts. It is apprehended that verification under the new law risks unsettling historical waqfs in states with weak documentation. Reliance on district collectors may also lead to prejudice.

 Therefore, the Supreme Court during hearing of the petitions challenging the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, contesting provisions affecting waqf by user, made certain significant observations. The Court’s observations provide critical insight into its stance. The Court reiterated the validity of waqf by user, referencing Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board (1998), which upheld waqf by user as a recognized mode under Islamic law and the Waqf Act, 1995. The bench, led by Chief Justice Sanjiv Khanna, emphasized that waqf by user is essential for preserving historical waqf properties lacking formal deeds due to their antiquity. The Court noted that waqf by user embodies the principle of “once a waqf, always a waqf,” ensuring perpetuity and inalienability.

Petitioners argued that the initial proposal to abolish waqf by user and the revised verification requirements violate Articles 25 (freedom of religion) and 26 (management of religious affairs). They contended that verifying pre-existing waqf by user properties could lead to disputes, endangering tens of thousands of waqf properties. The Court expressed apprehension about the amendments’ potential to cause “huge consequences” for waqf properties, noting that requiring verification of long-settled waqfs could unsettle community rights and lead to bureaucratic overreach. The Court indicated it might stay provisions affecting waqf by user, pending a detailed examination. Chief Justice Khanna remarked, “We cannot allow historical waqfs, recognized by long usage, to be suddenly open to challenge without clear justification.” The Court directed the government to clarify how verification would safeguard genuine waqf by user properties and prevent arbitrary reclamation as government property, seeking safeguards for impartiality by district collectors.

 The Court underscored that waqf by user is a “settled principle” in Indian law, rooted in Islamic jurisprudence and codified in the Waqf Act, 1995. It cautioned against legislative changes eroding this principle without justification. The Supreme Court’s stance reinforces waqf by user’s sanctity, countering misinformation by affirming its historical significance while supporting safeguards against misuse. The potential stay on the amendments signals a commitment to protecting religious rights while ensuring reforms do not harm established waqfs.

Waqf by user, akin to custom in common law, preserves historical endowments through long-standing practice, aligning with Islamic principles of perpetual charity and codified in Indian law. Its recognition through cases like Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board (1998) ensures undocumented properties serve community needs. However, its reliance on customary evidence makes it vulnerable to disputes and misinformation about arbitrary claims. The Supreme Court’s cautious approach, emphasizing the doctrine’s validity and signaling a potential stay, reflects a commitment to constitutional protections. However, verification risks bureaucratic delays and bias, necessitating robust safeguards.

The misinformation campaign exploits ignorance of waqf by user’s legal rigor, ignoring its similarity to common law custom, which also requires substantial evidence. The Supreme Court’s reaffirmation counter these false claims. 

In sum, waqf by user is defined as the recognition of a property as a waqf under Islamic jurisprudence and Indian law based on its prolonged, consistent, and public use for religious, pious, or charitable purposes, without requiring a formal deed. Comparable to custom in common law, it relies on long-standing practice but is distinct in its religious purpose and perpetuity. Rooted in the Hanafi school and codified in the Waqf Act, 1995 (Section 3(r)(i)), it is upheld by cases like Sayyed Ali v. Andhra Pradesh Waqf Board (1998) and Ramjanmabhoomi Case (2019). The Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, sought to annul it. The Supreme Court, in April 2025 hearings, reaffirmed waqf by user’s validity, expressed concerns about the amendments’ potential to disrupt settled waqfs, and indicated a possible stay, balancing reform with constitutional protections. The misinformation campaign alleging waqf by user enables Muslims to claim public spaces by offering prayers is baseless, as the doctrine requires decades of documented use, a fact reinforced by the Court, the 2025 amendments, and its parallel with common law custom.

The Waqf Amendment: Impact of Law of Limitation on the Doctrine of Perpetuity

The Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, has made several significant changes to the law of waqf as applied in India. One of the aspect, it appears , has not drawn as much attention as it  deserves. The amendment made the law of limitation applicable to the law of waqf. Its impact on the law is not less devastating than any other changes made to the law. Here is a bird’s eye view on how law of limitation undermines the islamic law of waqf.

There is a doctrine in Islamic law relating to Waqf known as “once a waqf always a waqf”. It is a fundamental principle governing the institution of waqf. This doctrine underscores the perpetual and irrevocable nature of a waqf once it is validly created. 

A brief descriptive definition of waqf can be given as waqf is a voluntary, permanent dedication of property (movable or immovable) by a Muslim for a purpose recognized as pious, charitable, or religious under Islamic law. The property is placed in a trust-like arrangement, and its benefits are used for the intended purpose, such as supporting mosques, schools, hospitals, or the poor, while the principal remains intact.

The doctrine of “once a waqf , always a waqf” establishes that once a property is dedicated as a waqf, it remains so perpetually. 

This means:

1. The donor (waqif) cannot revoke or reclaim the waqf property after its creation, as it is considered a dedication to Allah for the benefit of the community or specified beneficiaries. It is called irrevocability which the doctrine entails.

2. The waqf must endure indefinitely, and the property cannot be sold, gifted, inherited, or otherwise alienated except in exceptional circumstances permitted by Islamic law. This is known as perpetuity. 

3. The waqf property is removed from the personal ownership of the donor and cannot be transferred or used for purposes other than those specified in the waqf deed (waqf-nama).

This principle known as “once a waqf always a waqf” ensures that the charitable intent of the donor is preserved and that the benefits of the waqf continue to serve the community or purpose for which it was established.

The doctrine is rooted in Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) and draws from the Quran, Hadith, and scholarly consensus. 

First, while the Quran does not explicitly mention waqf, verses encouraging charity (sadaqah) and spending for the sake of Allah (e.g., Surah Al-Baqarah 2:261, Surah Aal-E-Imran 3:92) provide the spiritual basis for waqf as an act of perpetual charity (sadaqah jariyah).

Second, a well-known Hadith narrated by Abu Hurairah (Sahih Muslim) states that when a person dies, their deeds cease except for three, one of which is a “continuous charity” (sadaqah jariyah). Waqf is considered a prime example of such charity.

Third, Islamic scholars across major schools of thought (Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi’i, Hanbali) agree on the perpetual and irrevocable nature of waqf, emphasizing its role in serving public welfare and religious objectives.

In simple language, the doctrine means that the waqf property is dedicated “forever” to the specified purpose. Even if the original purpose becomes obsolete, the property must be redirected to a similar charitable cause rather than reverting to private ownership. The waqf property cannot be sold, gifted, or inherited. Its ownership is effectively transferred to Allah, with the benefits accruing to the designated beneficiaries. Once the waqf is created through a valid declaration (oral or written) and the property is delivered to the trustee (mutawalli), it becomes legally binding and cannot be undone by the donor or their heirs. The waqf property is managed by a trustee or administrator who ensures its upkeep and that its income or benefits are used as per the donor’s intent.

So, how does the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, affected this important doctrine of the law of waqf? 

One of the significant changes brought about by the amendment is making the Limitation Act, 1963, applicable to waqf properties by omitting Section 107 of the 1995 Act. Prior to the amendment, Section 107 of the Waqf Act, 1995, exempted waqf properties from the Limitation Act, allowing Waqf Boards to pursue claims (e.g., for encroachment or recovery of property) without any time bar. This meant that even long-standing encroachments could be legally challenged at any time.

The 2025 amendment removes this exemption, making the Limitation Act, 1963, applicable. Under this Act, claims related to property disputes, such as recovery of possession, are generally subject to a limitation period of 12 years from the date the cause of action arises (e.g., when the property was encroached upon). After this period, claims may be barred, and encroachers could potentially claim ownership through adverse possession if they have occupied the property openly and continuously for over 12 years.

Application of the Limitation Act severely restricts Waqf Boards’ ability to reclaim encroached properties, especially in cases where encroachments have gone unchallenged for decades. For instance, if a waqf property has been illegally occupied for more than 12 years, the Waqf Board may lose its legal right to recover it, potentially legitimizing encroachments and undermining the inalienable nature of waqf properties (the doctrine of “once a waqf, always a waqf”). This change could lead to significant losses for Waqf Boards, as many waqf properties in India have been subject to prolonged encroachments due to mismanagement or lack of timely action.

The application of law of limitation severely undermines the aspect of inalienability of the doctrine of “once a wqf, always a waqf”. Under the doctrine Waqf properties are traditionally considered inalienable, dedicated perpetually for religious or charitable purposes. The application of the Limitation Act introduces a legal framework that conflicts with this principle, as it allows for the possibility of waqf properties being lost to adverse possession.

In sum, the application of the Limitation Act, 1963, to waqf properties under the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, introduces time-bound restrictions on legal claims. This measure outright undermines the inalienable nature of waqf properties by allowing adverse possession after 12 years, potentially leading to significant losses for Waqf Boards. This change has sparked legal and constitutional challenges as it infringes on religious and property rights. This aspect of the amendment was not given as much attention as it deserves.

Sense of betrayal

There is a feeling among a large number ot people that reflects a deep sense of disappointment and disillusionment with the state of India’s democratic and social fabric, particularly in relation to the ideals enshrined in its Constitution. When you examine the concerns systematically, looking at the roles of political parties, state institutions, civil society, and social structures, as well as their impact on minorities and India’s global standing you will find that the feeling is strongly rooted in reality and lived experiences.

Lets take a look at the issue. While doing so, lets also keep in mind the comprexity of  the issue. 

India’s Constitution, adopted in 1950, is a great document that promises justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity for all citizens, regardless of caste, creed, religion, or gender. It emphasizes secularism, social justice, and the protection of minority rights. However , the reality on the ground shows that these ideals have been undermined by various actors and institutions. 

Lets start with political parties as they are central to India’s democracy. It is obvious that most of them have prioritised power, vote-bank politics, and divisive rhetoric over constitutional values. In recent years, political discourse in India has been criticized for fostering religious and caste-based polarization. Some parties have been accused of promoting majoritarian agendas, sidelining minority communities, particularly Muslims, Christians, and Dalits. For example, incidents of communal violence, such as the 2020 Delhi riots, and anti-Muslim policies like the Citizenship (Amendment) Act, 2019 (CAA), brutal repression of democratic protests against CAA-NRC (National Register of Citizens) combine, indefinite incarceration of protesters along with increasing incidence of hate crimes like beef lynching, dehumanising and humiliating hate speech and vilification campaign against Muslims have fueled perceptions of increasing Islamophobia and discrimination against Muslims. Political parties across the spectrum have faced allegations of corruption, cronyism, and compromising democratic principles for electoral gains. The weakening of opposition voices, through defections or institutional pressure, has raised concerns about democratic backsliding. Despite economic growth, India remains deeply unequal, with persistent poverty to the extent of living on the verge of starvation, inter-generational malnutrition and lack of access to health care, unemployment, and caste-based discrimination. Political parties have always been seen failing to deliver on promises of inclusive development, leaving marginalized groups behind. 

However, it’s worth noting that India’s democracy remains vibrant in some respects, with regular elections and democratic protests against state excesses as well as its inactions. The resilience of democratic participation suggests that not all hope is lost, though significant challenges remain.

Now lets take a look at the state and its institutions: judiciary, police, bureaucracy, and election machiner. These institutions are meant to uphold constitutional values. Yet, there are concerns about their impartiality and effectiveness. The judiciary has historically been a bulwark of constitutional values, but recent years have seen criticisms of delayed justice, perceived alignment with the executive in some cases, and a backlog of cases affecting marginalized groups. For instance, the handling of cases related to communal violence or dissent has sparked debates about judicial neutrality. Reports of custodial violence, extrajudicial killings, and bias against minorities and lower castes have tarnished the police’s reputation. Human rights organizations have documented cases of targeted harassment of minority communities, activists, and journalists. Institutions like the Election Commission, Reserve Bank of India, and media regulatory bodies have faced accusations of being influenced by the ruling government, undermining their independence. The use of laws like the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, 1967 (UAPA) against dissenters has raised alarms about shrinking democratic space. 

On the positive side, institutions like the Supreme Court have occasionally delivered progressive judgments, such as decriminalizing homosexuality (2018) or affirming privacy rights (2017). These examples show that institutional failures are not universal, and reform is possible.

Now turning to civil society, i.e., NGOs, activists, and citizen movements, it can be seen that it plays a crucial role in holding power accountable. However, it has faced challenges. Activists, journalists, and academics critical of the government have faced harassment, arrests, or funding restrictions. The Foreign Contribution Regulation Act, 2010 (FCRA) has been used to limit NGOs’ operations, particularly those working on minority rights, human rights or environmental issues. Civil society is diverse but often divided along ideological, regional, or caste lines, limiting its ability to present a united front against systemic issues. Despite these challenges, civil society has achieved successes, such as mobilizing against gender-based violence (e.g., Nirbhaya protests) or farmers protests against now repealed farm laws or advocating for tribal rights. Movements like these demonstrate that civil society remains a force for change.

Fourth, Social institutions like family, community, and cultural norms. These are also important as they shape India’s social fabric but often perpetuate inequalities. Caste-based discrimination and communal tensions continue to undermine fraternity. Lynchings over cow vigilantism, honor killings, and caste atrocities highlight the failure to eradicate regressive practices. Despite legal reforms, gender-based violence and discrimination persist, with no progress in empowering women and gender minorities. Social institutions have been slow to embrace progressive values, partly due to uneven access to education and entrenched hierarchies. However, younger generations and urban movements are challenging these norms, offering hope for change. Movements like these demonstrate that civil society remains a force for change.

The feeling that minorities have been betrayed is rooted in specific grievances. Muslims, who constitute about 14% of India’s population, have faced rising Islamophobia, including hate speech, discriminatory laws, and economic exclusion. Christians and Sikhs have also reported targeted attacks in some regions. The CAA and National Register of Citizens (NRC) debates amplified fears of disenfranchisement among Muslims. Dalits and Adivasis continue to face systemic discrimination, with limited access to education, jobs, and justice. Atrocities against these groups often go unpunished, reinforcing a sense of abandonment. Linguistic diversity is a strength, but tensions over language policies (e.g., Hindi imposition) have alienated some communities. Yet, India’s diversity also fosters resilience. Minority communities have organized protests, such as the anti-CAA and anti-waqf amendment demonstrations, and continue to assert their rights through democratic means. This activism suggests that the constitutional framework still provides avenues for redress.

The perception that India has betrayed the world at large stems from its democratic reputation and global responsibilities. International indices, like the Freedom House Democracy Index, have downgraded India’s status (e.g., from “free” to “partly free” in 2021) due to concerns over press freedom, minority rights, and judicial independence. This has damaged India’s image as the “world’s largest democracy.” Reports by Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have highlighted issues like internet shutdowns, arbitrary detentions, and violence against minorities, drawing global scrutiny. As a country trying to draw global attention, India is expected to uphold democratic values and human rights. Failures in this regard risk alienating allies and weakening its soft power. However, efforts to project a positive image, such as through cultural diplomacy or climate commitments, indicate that India has not entirely lost its global standing.

While the concerns highlighted above are grounded in real challenges, there are reasons to believe that India has not reached a “point of no return” and that the feeling of betrayal, while understandable, is not the full picture. India’s elections remain largely free and fair, with high voter turnout. The 2024 general elections saw robust participation, and opposition parties have shown they can challenge the ruling coalition in some states. The judiciary, despite pressures, continues to deliver landmark judgments. Institutions like the National Human Rights Commission, though imperfect, provide mechanisms for accountability. Young Indians, particularly in urban areas, are increasingly vocal about issues like climate change, gender equality, and minority rights. Social media platforms amplify these voices, creating pressure for change. 

To address the sense of betrayal and restore faith in constitutional ideals, several steps could be taken. Reforming the judiciary, police, and electoral bodies to ensure independence and accountability is critical. Transparency in governance can rebuild trust. Policies that prioritize minority welfare, reduce inequality, and address caste and gender discrimination are essential. Affirmative action and education reforms can help. Political parties and civil society must foster dialogue to bridge communal and ideological divides. Media can play a role in countering hate speech and misinformation. Supporting young activists and local organizations can drive long-term change, as seen in successful movements like the farmers’ protests (2020-21).

The feeling that India has failed to uphold its constitutional commitments is not entirely false, as it reflects genuine challenges: political polarization, institutional erosion, minority marginalization, and social inequalities. These issues have strained India’s democratic fabric and global reputation. However, the situation is not irreparable. India’s resilient democracy, active civil society, and pockets of institutional integrity offer hope for renewal. By addressing systemic issues and recommitting to constitutional values, India can move away from the “point of no return” and restore faith among its citizens and the world.

The Wqaf Amendment: A Secular State's Selective Interference

 On April 5, 2025, the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 received Presidential assent and became binding law. What was introduced as a set of administrative reforms has, in reality, made sweeping changes to the legal framework governing waqf properties—assets that have, for centuries, formed the backbone of religious, charitable, and welfare activities in India’s Muslim community. These properties, once dedicated as waqf, are intended to remain forever devoted to the service of the public through mosques, schools, graveyards, hospitals, orphanages, and other such institutions. The waqf system is rooted in a deep religious tradition that treats such property not as personal or transferable wealth, but as a perpetual endowment—a trust in the service of God and society. By enacting this amendment, the state has imposed new controls and conditions on the management of these properties, and in doing so, it has stirred serious constitutional and ethical concerns that go to the very heart of India’s secular and democratic fabric.

One of the most significant and contentious aspects of this new law is its requirement that non-Muslim members be included in the governing bodies responsible for waqf administration. Until now, both the Central Waqf Council and the various State Waqf Boards have been comprised solely of Muslims, based on the reasonable and well-understood logic that a religious endowment grounded in Islamic jurisprudence should be managed by those who understand and adhere to that faith. Waqf is not a neutral asset; its creation, governance, and purpose are tied directly to religious doctrine. By mandating the inclusion of individuals from outside the Muslim faith into the core decision-making process, the law interferes with the internal affairs of a religious community in a way that is unprecedented, discriminatory, and constitutionally unsound.

This move strikes directly at the heart of Article 26 of the Constitution of India, which guarantees to every religious denomination the right to manage its own affairs in matters of religion. This right is not conditional on state approval; it is an autonomous space protected from majoritarian control. The state, in its role as a secular entity, has no business deciding how a religious body should govern itself, unless there is clear evidence of harm or illegality. In this case, the inclusion of non-Muslims is not based on any identified abuse or failure of the waqf system, but on a vague desire to “reform” or “standardize” it—standards that are not being imposed on other religious communities. Hindu temples are not required to appoint non-Hindus to their trust boards. Christian churches and Sikh gurdwaras are not compelled to allow outsiders into their governing bodies. Only the Muslim community is being asked to alter its religious institutions in a way that directly contradicts its religious principles and institutional independence. This selective interference makes a mockery of the secular ideal.

The principle of secularism, which is a part of the basic structure of the Indian Constitution, requires that the state maintain an equal distance from all religions. Secularism does not mean that the state should suppress religion—it means the state must avoid interfering in religious matters and must treat all faiths with the same degree of respect and restraint. The Waqf (Amendment) Act violates this principle by singling out one religious community and placing its institutions under conditions that others are not subject to. Far from being a neutral act of reform, the law appears to be based on an assumption that Muslim religious institutions require special oversight or control, while others are allowed to function autonomously. This is not secular governance—it is a form of state favoritism and distrust that targets one community under the guise of administrative reform.

The inequality is further compounded when we consider Article 14, which promises all persons equality before the law and equal protection of the laws. Any law that treats one group differently from others must be based on an intelligible classification and must have a rational connection to a legitimate objective. Here, the law applies intrusive controls only to Muslim endowments, without any demonstrated reason why waqf institutions uniquely require such measures. If transparency, accountability, or efficiency are the goals, then all religious and charitable trusts—regardless of religion—should be subject to the same standards. By applying special burdens only on waqf institutions, the law creates a classification that is both arbitrary and unconstitutional. This kind of discrimination violates the very spirit of equal treatment that the Constitution guarantees and erodes public faith in the neutrality of the legal system.

Equally troubling is the Act’s transfer of adjudicatory power from Waqf Tribunals to ordinary government officers in determining whether a property is waqf or not. Previously, such matters were heard by specialized tribunals that, although imperfect, at least functioned as quasi-judicial bodies with some familiarity with Islamic law and waqf practice. The new law hands this power over to revenue officials, such as district magistrates or collectors—executive agents of the state who lack judicial independence and religious expertise. This move not only politicizes the process but also weakens due process protections. Under Article 21, no person shall be deprived of life or personal liberty except according to a procedure established by law. And over decades of jurisprudence, the Supreme Court has clarified that this procedure must be just, fair, and reasonable—not arbitrary, opaque, or biased.

Giving government officers the final say in disputes over religious property strips away this fairness. Such decisions are likely to be influenced by political pressure, land-use priorities, or personal prejudice. In a country where land is scarce and waqf properties are often located in prime areas, this opens the door to massive misuse. Communities could lose control over mosques, schools, or graveyards not because of any legal fault, but because a bureaucrat deemed the land to be non-waqf. The loss here is not only of real estate, but of identity, heritage, and sacred space. Due process is reduced to a formality, and fundamental rights are rendered meaningless in practice.

Another devastating consequence of the new law is its removal of waqf property’s exemption from the Limitation Act, 1963, thereby allowing adverse possession to extinguish waqf claims. Under the previous regime, waqf land could not be lost merely because someone had occupied it for twelve years without contest. The reason was clear: waqf property is held in trust not for the trustee, but for the public—specifically for religious or charitable use. It is not like private property that a person can forget to protect. The very purpose of waqf is continuity and perpetuity. By making it subject to adverse possession, the new law effectively allows waqf land to be stolen through encroachment, and then legalized through bureaucratic inaction. In many cases, waqf boards lack the resources to track or litigate every piece of land. Under this regime, they will now also lose land they cannot immediately recover, even if it was wrongfully taken. This violates not only religious trust but also the constitutional right to property under Article 300A, which protects individuals and communities from being deprived of their property without legal authority. The irony is that the very law intended to regulate waqf may now become the means by which waqf property is legally lost forever.

In addition to all of this, the law demands that waqf properties must have formal documentation—a registered waqfnama—to be recognized. While this might seem like a logical administrative requirement, in practice, it means that a vast number of older waqf properties will be excluded from the official record simply because they were established in an era when documentation was rare. Many waqf lands are known by local custom, oral tradition, and continued community use. To now require them to produce written deeds is to apply modern bureaucratic standards to historical realities, with disastrous consequences. This not only undermines the protection of genuine waqf assets but also punishes communities for their historical poverty or illiteracy.

Altogether, the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 is not a minor regulatory adjustment—it is a profound disruption of constitutional norms, legal protections, and secular principles. It treats Muslim institutions differently from others, burdens them with special restrictions, exposes them to state interference, and deprives them of rights that other communities take for granted. It violates Article 14’s promise of equality, Article 21’s guarantee of fair process, Article 26’s assurance of religious autonomy, and Article 300A’s protection of property. It also departs from the spirit of secularism by casting the state not as a neutral guardian, but as an active participant in the internal affairs of one particular faith.

The dangers of this law are not hypothetical. They will be felt in everyday ways—when a mosque is lost to encroachment, when a waqf school is shut due to lack of recognition, when a community can no longer bury its dead in ancestral graveyards, or when an honest mutawalli (trustee) is replaced by a politically connected appointee. The consequences will be deeply human, and often irreversible.

If India is to remain true to its founding ideals—of pluralism, equality, justice, and secular governance—then laws like the Waqf (Amendment) Act must be reconsidered and challenged. The rights of religious communities cannot be made subject to the convenience of the state. They cannot be taken away quietly, under the pretext of reform. Constitutional rights are not privileges—they are guarantees. And they must be defended, especially when it is unpopular, inconvenient, or politically costly to do so. The Constitution does not allow for second-class rights, and it does not recognize second-class citizens. That must include the Muslim community, and it must include the institutions it holds sacred.All reactions: