But Indian Muslims must pause and reflect. Are we seen as comrades in these causes, or merely as expendable emotional masses?

Indian Muslims are among the most emotionally responsive people when it comes to the global Muslim narrative. We protest for Gaza, chant for Palestine, and stand in solidarity with Muslims in far-off lands — from Iraq to Syria, from Myanmar to Sudan. But when we look back at what the so-called Ummah has done in return for us, the answer is chillingly clear: nothing.

Despite being home to one of the largest Muslim populations on earth — over 200 million — Indian Muslims have never had a seat at the table of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC). Not once in its five-decade existence has this body, which claims to represent global Muslim interests, offered us any representation or voice. This deliberate exclusion begs a serious question: why do Indian Muslims continue to sacrifice their time, emotions, and sometimes even freedom, for a “brotherhood” that has consistently ignored and sidelined them?

Historical Snub: The 1969 Rabat Conference

Let us revisit a painful yet revealing moment in history. In 1969, during the first Islamic Summit in Rabat, Morocco, India was invited to participate. Representing India was Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed, a respected Muslim statesman who would later become President of India. Yet, under pressure from Pakistan, India was unceremoniously shown the door. This wasn’t merely a diplomatic slight — it was a clear message from the Muslim world: your faith is not enough. Your political identity — as an Indian — is a disqualifier.

The Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, under the guise of representing 57 Muslim-majority countries, chose to side with Pakistan’s insecurities over India’s reality. And from that moment onward, Indian Muslims were treated as outsiders in Islamic diplomacy. One of the world’s largest Muslim populations became invisible in the OIC’s corridors.

The Illusion of Ummah: What Are We Marching For?

Despite this snub, Indian Muslims continue to march passionately for causes like Palestine. They protest Israel’s actions, mourn Gaza’s dead, and share viral slogans of unity. But do Palestinians, or the Arab states, reciprocate this solidarity?

India’s position on the Palestine-Israel conflict has been nuanced, and while it still supports a two-state solution, its growing ties with Israel have been met with strategic silence from Arab capitals. They don’t criticize India, but the Ummah doesn’t protest for Indian Muslims the way Indian Muslims protest for it.

We romanticize Iran — forgetting that Iranian proxies like the Fatemiyoun Brigade killed thousands of Muslims in Syria. We chant the names of Turkish leaders who have more business deals with Israel than speeches about Gaza. We cling to a one-sided idea of the Ummah that refuses to acknowledge us.

Historical Loyalty for Foreign Thrones

This is not new. In the 1920s, Indian Muslims organized the Khilafat Movement to defend the Ottoman Caliphate. The irony? The Ottomans never ruled India. Our ancestors had no direct stake in Turkish affairs. Yet we mobilized nationwide protests, boycotted British goods, and even clashed with colonial authorities — all for a distant throne in Istanbul.

In hindsight, what did the Turks ever do for us? The Caliphate collapsed, Turkey became secular under Atatürk, and Indian Muslims gained nothing from the movement — except perhaps a precedent of misdirected loyalty.

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar — often quoted by modern secularists and even Muslim youth today — was brutally honest in his analysis. He wrote that for many Muslims, the idea of the Ummah superseded national identity. In Thoughts on Pakistan, he cautioned that such a mindset made political loyalty to the nation-state difficult.

Many labelled him a bigot back then. But today, his words resonate more than ever. The hypocrisy is stark: we use Ambedkar as a shield in domestic debates while ignoring his core warnings about divided loyalties and misplaced priorities.

Time to Wake Up

Today, Israel’s war with Hamas evokes mass outrage. Rightly so — civilian casualties are a tragedy. But that energy, that anger, that time — could it not also be directed toward our own local causes?

Thousands of Indian Muslim youth are unemployed. Our schools are crumbling. Our institutions are infiltrated by radicals who don’t empower, but exploit. Women in our community still struggle for basic education and healthcare. Where is our outrage for that?

Why not march for better schooling in Bihar? Why not raise slogans for economic reforms in Uttar Pradesh? Why not channel our collective passion into building libraries, funding scholarships, and creating think tanks? Why must we always be foot soldiers in someone else’s geopolitical war?

A Final Thought

Palestine deserves justice. So do the people of Syria, Yemen, Sudan, and every other place ravaged by violence. But Indian Muslims must pause and reflect. Are we seen as comrades in these causes, or merely as expendable emotional masses? If the OIC can reject us, if Arab regimes can ignore us, if Iran can manipulate us, if Turkey can exploit us — shouldn’t we stop bleeding for them blindly?

The Ummah is a powerful spiritual idea, but as a political reality, it is highly selective. And in that selectivity, Indian Muslims have always been left out.

It’s time we stopped marching for a club that won’t even give us a visitor’s pass.

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

Vaibhav Singh opened the conversation with a blunt observation: there seems to be a glaring absence of protests when it comes to atrocities faced by Uyghur Muslims in China, Balochs in Pakistan, or even the Sindhi and Pashtun communities who have endured brutal oppression. He questioned why the deaths of 20,000 Mahajirs in Karachi, Hyderabad, and Sukkur go unmentioned in Indian Muslim discourse, while emotional demonstrations erupt for Palestine and Rohingya Muslims.

He highlighted the horrific reality in Xinjiang, where practicing Islam is almost criminalized—people are forced to surrender prayer mats in police stations, growing a beard is banned, and even Islamic names are discouraged. Yet, no placards or rallies appear in Indian streets for them.

Instead, Singh lamented, the spotlight is always on Palestine. Thousands protest in Indian cities, sometimes to the extent of vandalism, as was the case when some reportedly attacked Amar Jawan Jyoti in Mumbai in the name of solidarity with the Rohingyas. “Why such selective empathy?” he asked. “Are Indian Muslims afraid of Pakistan and China?”

Zahack Tanvir responded with a layered analysis that combined historical context with geopolitical realism. He agreed that the overwhelming focus on Palestine while ignoring other equally devastating crises suggests a form of emotional manipulation rather than informed advocacy. “Most Muslims here don’t even realize that India is engaged in a silent conflict with both Pakistan and China,” he said. “But even beyond that, there is a kind of shameless tunnel vision—where people hold on to just one or two issues and act as if those define the entire Muslim world’s struggle.”

He dug deeper into the Palestinian issue, emphasizing how it has evolved over the last 75 years into a political industry. “Billions have been poured into it. NGOs, lobbies, donations, protests—yet no solution has emerged. Not because one isn’t possible, but because resolving it would shut down a global cottage industry of activism, influence, and income,” Zahack said. He clarified that his statements weren’t anti-Palestinian but rather critical of the politicization of their suffering.

He further illustrated how Palestinians, themselves a diverse mix of Muslims, Christians, Communists, Marxists, and Atheists, have historically disrupted the very nations that sheltered them. In Lebanon, internal conflict erupted with the local Christian population. In Jordan, they attempted to assassinate King Hussein. “This isn’t just a Muslim issue—it was initially an Arab issue supported by Arab Christians,” Zahack explained.

Shifting the lens inward, he shared a startling reality: many Palestinians, Syrians, and Jordanians are unaware that India has over 250 million Muslims. “When I told them, they were shocked. For them, Pakistan equals Muslims, and India equals Hindus,” Zahack said.

And yet, Indian Muslims in places like Mominpura, Shivaji Nagar, or Zakir Nagar wage symbolic battles—boycotting multinational brands like Nestlé, Starbucks, and McDonald’s—as a gesture of protest.

“But what difference does it make? In 1973, all Arab nations imposed an oil embargo on the U.S. It didn’t stop America from giving $2 billion in aid to Israel, and later $8 billion more,” Zahack pointed out. “When a country has wealth and a strong lobby, a few boycotted chocolates and potato chips won’t matter.”

Zahack stressed that national interest should always come first. “Every country is looking after itself. Sudan and Morocco don’t have a problem with Israel. Bahrain and the UAE have formal ties. The Turks and Kurds have moved on. So why are we getting emotionally entangled in their politics?”

Zahack reiterated India’s pragmatic foreign policy: a two-state solution that respects both Israeli and Palestinian rights to exist. “India isn’t blindly siding with anyone. It maintains healthy relations with Russia, the U.S., Israel, and the Arab nations. We are focused on trade, growth, and development,” he said.

He ended the discussion with a powerful anecdote: while speaking with an Egyptian army officer, Zahack explained why India doesn’t get involved in third-party fights. The officer nodded in agreement, appreciating India’s non-interventionist stance.

“Why should we fight your fight?” Zahack asked. “You fight today and hug tomorrow. We’ll mind our own business.”

The dialogue between Vaibhav Singh and Zahack Tanvir wasn’t just a critique of selective outrage; it was a call to maturity in activism. It challenged Indian Muslims—and Indians at large—to think with clarity, weigh their allegiances with wisdom, and prioritize national interest over borrowed causes.