Waqf Act 2024: Muslim Land Rights & Heritage At Risk In India

Waqf Act 2024: Muslim Land Rights & Heritage at Risk in India

Let me start with a question that’s been keeping me up at night: What happens when a centuries-old system designed to uplift communities is hijacked by politics and greed? As a Muslim who grew up seeing the quiet dignity of Waqf—mosques, cemeteries, and schools sustained by these endowments—the recent push to “reform” India’s Waqf laws feels less like progress and more like a betrayal. Let me explain why.

Waqf Act 2024

Waqf Isn’t Just Land—It’s Our Lifeline

Let us understand this as a example. Suppose my grandmother donated her small plot of land to build a neighborhood madrasa, she called it sadaqah jariyah—a “continuous charity.” That’s Waqf in its purest form. For over a thousand years, Muslims have used this system to fund everything from orphanages to public wells. It’s not just property; it’s a sacred promise. Under Islamic law, once you dedicate land or assets to Waqf, it belongs to God forever. Trustees (Mutawalli) manage it, but they don’t own it. The rules are precise, almost poetic in their fairness—like how a mother’s right to compensation for breastfeeding is enshrined in Shariah. Waqf mirrors that balance: it’s meant to serve everyone, rich or poor, without exploitation.

What is Happening?

Let’s rewind. The British colonial era was a disaster for Waqf. They snatched lands, called them “government property,” and left mosques and graveyards vulnerable. After independence, the 1995 Waqf Act tried to fix things by creating state boards to document and protect these assets. But instead of autonomy, we got bureaucracy. Politicians stuffed these boards with loyalists, and corruption festered. I’ve lost count of the stories about prime Waqf lands leased to hotels for peanuts while our cemeteries overflow.

Even worse? The “land mafia.” Greedy developers eyed our mosques and madrasas—prime real estate in crowded cities. And now, the government itself seems to be joining the grab.

The New Bill: A Trojan Horse?

The proposed changes to Waqf laws claim to fight corruption. But let’s cut through the spin. Here’s what scares me:

1. Power to Bureaucrats, Not Communities: The bill hands district collectors sweeping authority over Waqf disputes. These officials aren’t scholars—they’re bureaucrats. Imagine a Hindu bureaucrat deciding the fate of a 400-year-old mosque’s courtyard because some paperwork is “missing.”
2. Death by Documentation: Many Waqf properties—like the pathway to my local mosque, used for Eid prayers for generations—were never formally “registered.” They survived through custom and collective memory. The new bill could erase them overnight, demanding paperwork our ancestors never imagined.
3. The Takeover Agenda: Buried in legalese is a clause letting the government acquire Waqf land for “public interest.” Sounds noble, right? But “public interest” could mean handing a cemetery to a shopping mall developer. When has bulldozing graves ever served the public?

The Lies They’re Telling Us

To justify this, they’re spreading myths. Let’s debunk them:

• “Muslims stole land for Waqf!” Absolute rubbish. Islamic law explicitly bans endowing property you don’t own. The story about Mughals declaring “wherever their horses stopped” as Waqf? Pure fiction.
• “Waqf boards are corrupt!” Sure, some trustees messed up. But instead of fixing accountability, the bill rewards the real looters: politicians and capitalists.
• “We’re including women and minorities!” Please. Waqf boards always had seats for women. This is tokenism masking a land grab.

Urgent Call to Action: Stand Against the Waqf Amendment Bill 2024

Why This Matters—Even If You’re Not Muslim

This isn’t just a Muslim issue. Waqf is a mirror of India’s pluralism. kings donated land for mosques. Colonial officials funded madrasas. Our syncretic history is written in these endowments. If we let Waqf die, we’re not just losing land—we’re erasing memory.

Think about it: Where will working-class Muslims bury their loved ones if cemeteries become high-rises? Who’ll fund schools in slums if Waqf madrasas vanish? This isn’t “progress”—it’s social sabotage.

What Can We Do?

I’ll be honest—I’m angry, but I’m not hopeless. Here’s my humble to-do list:

1. Speak Up: Share stories about Waqf’s impact. Did your aunt’s medical bills get paid through a Waqf charity? Talk about it. Personal stories trump propaganda.
2. Demand Transparency: Audit your local Waqf board. Tag lawmakers on social media. Corruption thrives in silence.
3. Build Bridges: Hindus, Sikhs, Christians—this affects you too. If Waqf falls, your temples and gurdwaras could be next. Solidarity is our shield.

Final Thoughts: This Is Personal

Waqf is woven into my DNA. It’s the mosque where I learned to pray, the cemetery where my grandparents rest, the madrasa that taught my cousin the Quran. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours—a covenant between us and the divine.

So when I hear politicians dismiss Waqf as “backward” or “corrupt,” I don’t just see a policy debate. I see my heritage being auctioned. And I refuse to let that happen without a fight.

What about you?

This article is inspired by Lecture in Urdu on Waqf awareness program. If you wish to reblog/share this article- Please share with proper attribution and linking.

You can Follow Islamhashtag.com viaWhatsapporFacebookorInstagram

Related