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

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

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

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

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

Hate Speech Is Not a One-Way Street

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

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

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

The Dangerous Myth of Communal Arithmetic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Responsibility to Condemn Across the Board

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

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

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

Communalism Is a Two-Edged Sword

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

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

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

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

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.

Only then will Muslims cease to be ruled in the name of fear—and start living as full citizens of a republic they help build every day.

Since 2014, Indian Muslims have been caught in a spiral of fear and political confusion. The Bharatiya Janata Party’s ascent to power was, for many, a moment of rupture—a decisive break from the past. The party that had once taken responsibility for the demolition of the 16th-century Babri Masjid was now ruling from the centre. The wound of 1992, which forever communalized India’s political terrain, had now translated into a permanent sense of existential siege for Muslims.

In this atmosphere, Muslim anxieties have increasingly turned toward one phrase: “leadership”. A leadership that would represent them, defend their interests, articulate their pain, and resist the Hindutva offensive. But what exactly is “Muslim leadership”? Who defines it, and on what grounds? What are its aims? These questions remain unanswered.

Muslim Leadership: A Floating Signifier

Today, to speak of Muslim leadership is to walk into a semantic maze. Does it mean clerical authority? Electoral representation? Civil society mobilisation? Each comes with its own contradictions.

Groups like the Jamaat-e-Islami Hind (JIH), Indian Union Muslim League (IUML), and All India Masjlid Ittehad-ul-Muslieen (AIMIM) represent sharply divergent visions of Muslim politics—religiously, regionally, and ideologically. The aspirations of an AIMIM voter in Hyderabad may carry no resonance in Kerala’s IUML strongholds or in the doctrinally distinct spaces of Jamaat. There is no singular “Muslim aspiration”. The imagined unity of the ummah dissolves the moment it is brought into contact with India’s vast regional, sectarian, and linguistic diversities.

Since the demolition of Babri Masjid, a deep sense of alienation and hyper politicisation has festered among Indian Muslims. Meanwhile, the state has since encouraged a version of “Muslim politics” that is either wholly apolitical (clergy-centric), tokenistic (electing a few symbolic figures), or hyper-nationalist (Muslims defending the Constitution louder than anyone else)  leaving virtually no space for any other form of articulation.

Crisis of Representation 

India’s secular-liberal intelligentsia has also contributed to the crisis. They have internalised the logic that Muslims must only be represented by Muslims—an echo of the very communal logic that partitioned the subcontinent. This view romanticises identity but ignores class, ideology, and material politics. It reduces Muslims to religious subjects rather than complex social actors.

This has led to a strange tolerance for performative religiosity among Muslim representatives. A Muslim Member of Legislative Assembly (MLA) can openly celebrate Hindu festivals or avoid raising Muslim concerns altogether, and yet face no criticism—because their mere presence is deemed sufficient. As long as someone with a Muslim name occupies a post, the job is assumed done. This is not representation—it is throwing some crumbs so one of the them could sit amongst one of them.

Moreover, if Muslims demand their own leadership, can Hindus not do the same? Can the majority not claim the same right to religious self-organisation? This contradiction is rarely acknowledged. The logic of communal representation, if applied consistently, would end secular democracy altogether. It would lead us back to the very framework that justified Partition: that Hindus and Muslims are two separate nations.

Leadership or Reaction? The Crisis of Political Imagination

Muslim leadership today is primarily reactive. It is shaped by Hindutva offensives and often exists only as their mirror image. If a bill is passed against Waqf properties, the one who tears it up in the legislature is seen as a leader. If a mosque is threatened, the one who files a PIL becomes the saviour. This reactionary instinct lacks a long-term political programme. It can mobilise anger, but rarely build anything substantive .

The truth is stark: there is no democratic, transparent, pan-Indian Muslim body that can claim to represent Indian Muslims. The All India Muslim Personal Law Board is neither elected nor accountable. Political parties like AIMIM can only claim to represent a section of the Indian Muslims .

The Danger of Aspiration Without Direction

If the current trajectory continues, Muslim political energies will either be absorbed into Hindutva’s reactive machinery or dissipate into nostalgia and despair. The call for “our own leader” will remain an emotional impulse, not a strategic position. Worse, it will obscure the actual sites of Muslim suffering—education, housing, employment, incarceration.

There is no short cut. Muslims in India must participate not as a community but as citizens—in all their class, gender, and ideological diversity. They must build secular and democratic movements for justice, not reactive fronts for identity defence. The alternative is not another “Muslim party,” but an alternative from amongst the Muslims asserting themselves as the citizens of the largest democracy—shaping the future alongside others.

Conclusion: Representation is Not Redemption

The First-Past-the-Post system has no room for religious representation, and perhaps it should not. The solution to Muslim exclusion as citizens lies not in symbolic figures, nor in communally carved parties, but in becoming masters of their own fate and self introspection themselves as citizens.

To demand Muslim leadership is not wrong—but to mistake visibility for power, or identity for programme, is dangerous. Muslim leadership must cease to be a mythological hope projected onto charismatic individuals, and become a rigorous, grassroots, multi-class democratic project rooted in the struggle for dignity.

Only then will Muslims cease to be ruled in the name of fear—and start living as full citizens of a republic they help build every day.

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.