Picture this: a country that boasts of its secular constitution strips one of its largest religious minorities of control over their centuries-old institutions. That’s exactly what happened on April 4, when Parliament rushed through the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, after a 14-hour debate. The government called it reform. But for millions of Indian Muslims, it felt like another body blow - an attack not just on property, but on identity, memory, and dignity. For a community already pushed to the margins, this is not governance. It’s a message: you don’t belong here on your own terms.
The bill has been presented as a clean-up of waqf institutions - Muslim charitable endowments that fund mosques, schools, graveyards, and community welfare. It is true that many waqf properties have suffered from neglect, encroachment, and mismanagement, much of it under successive governments long before the BJP came to power. But to suggest that this justifies the new law is like saying past injustice permits current abuse.
One critic of my recent social media post on this issue said, "Crocodile tears! Waqf properties were looted long before the BJP Sarkar. Now the chickens are coming home to roost. No sympathy."
This kind of rhetoric reflects a dangerous mindset. It legitimizes the idea of collective punishment. It weaponizes past misdeeds—real or perceived—to justify present repression. It treats India’s largest religious minority as eternally guilty, forever undeserving of empathy or rights. That’s not reform. That’s retaliation disguised as policy.
Let’s look at what the new law actually does.
It removes the age-old principle of "waqf by user" - a doctrine that protected mosques and graveyards that had served the community for generations, even if they weren’t formally documented. In a country where oral traditions and informal declarations often sustained religious spaces, this clause was a lifeline. Its removal paves the way for dispossession.
It replaces independent survey commissioners with government-appointed collectors who now hold decisive power in determining whether land is waqf or government-owned. Until the collector gives the green light, the property is in legal limbo, vulnerable to being seized or reclassified.
It permits non-Muslims to sit on waqf boards, even though non-Hindus are barred from managing major temple trusts like Tirupati. Yet, a Muslim cannot serve on a temple trust board - because, according to the bill's proponents, temples are religious bodies, while waqfs are conveniently reclassified as secular statutory bodies.
Even Uddhav Thackeray, former BJP ally and leader of Shiv Sena (UBT), mocked the government’s new-found concern for Muslims, saying it was so performative that it could put Pakistan’s founder Jinnah to shame.
Meanwhile, many of the prime waqf properties - particularly in cities - are located on valuable land. This makes them ripe for takeover under the guise of modernization. India is home to at least 872,000 registered waqf properties, covering more than 940,000 acres of land, with an estimated total value exceeding 1.2 trillion rupees (roughly $14.2 billion USD or £11.3 billion GBP). As I wrote elsewhere, this bill is less about good governance and more about asset capture in plain sight. A law that creates bureaucratic bottlenecks, expands litigation, and removes internal dispute resolution mechanisms doesn’t simplify makes governance—it strangles it.
To be clear: waqf boards are not perfect. They need accountability, transparency, and professional management. But meaningful reform should empower communities, not dismantle their autonomy.
By centralizing control, silencing traditional authorities, and introducing new layers of state interference, this law punishes the very people it claims to protect. It tells Indian Muslims: you are not capable of managing your own religious institutions. We will do it for you. And if we fail, you will still be blamed.
This isn’t just a matter of policy. It’s a test of principle. Do we treat religious minorities as equal citizens - or as convenient scapegoats for political gain?
As Congress MP Syed Naseer Hussain asked during the debate, "Will you allow me to be part of a Hindu temple trust?" His question cut through the smokescreen of administrative language and exposed the bill's real aim: the erosion of Muslim self-governance. If this is about inclusion, apply it uniformly across all religious bodies.
Rana Ayyub, a veteran journalist on social media captured the sentiment best: "A brutal assault on the Muslim population, another reminder of the naked hatred and anti-Muslim sentiment that has been legitimised since 2014. How are the think tanks going to whitewash this?"
Justice isn’t served by double standards. Rights don’t mean much if they depend on who’s in power. And accountability loses all meaning when it flows only in one direction.
This law doesn’t correct past wrongs. It creates new ones.
India can - and must - do better.
(Faisal Kutty is a Toronto-based lawyer and regular contributor to The Toronto Star. His articles also appear in Newsweek, Aljazeera, Zeteo, and Middle East Eye. You can follow him on X @faisalkutty)