The passage of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, by the BJP-led government at the Centre has unleashed a storm of controversy, exposing deep fault lines in India’s pluralistic society. While the government claims the legislation aims to modernise Waqf administration and enhance transparency, critics—including opposition parties, Muslim organisations, and constitutional scholars—see it as an assault on religious autonomy and minority rights. The recent violence in West Bengal, where three people died during protests in Murshidabad, underlines the perils of pushing through such contentious legislation without broad-based consensus. In its haste, the BJP risks disrupting the delicate fabric that binds India’s diverse communities.
The Bill, which amends the Waqf Act of 1995, brings in sweeping changes: non-Muslim representation on Waqf boards, enhanced government oversight, and stricter measures against encroachments. Supporters argue that these reforms will bolster accountability and protect minority interests. Yet, critics point out that the Bill may undermine constitutional protection under Articles 14, 25, 26, and 29. Concerns have been raised that the changes could dilute the Constitution and disenfranchise religious minorities by giving the state excessive control over religious institutions. The proposal to appoint non-Muslim members to Waqf boards has been seen as disregarding Islamic tenets, while the vague requirement of being a “practising Muslim” for board membership has only deepened confusion and mistrust.
Waqf properties, endowed for religious, educational, or charitable purposes, play a vital role in supporting social welfare among Muslims. They fund mosques, madrasas, graveyards and orphanages. Mismanagement and encroachments have plagued Waqf boards for years—problems acknowledged even by Muslim leaders. However, reforms must be inclusive and rooted in dialogue. Unilateral changes risk being seen as administrative corrections rather than ideological impositions.
There is also a broader legal and historical context to consider. Earlier efforts to bring greater transparency to Waqf management—such as through expert committee recommendations—emphasised the need for professional audits and capacity building, not abrupt reengineering of its religious character. Those calling for reform have long argued that systemic inefficiencies, not religious dogma, are the real barriers. The current Bill, critics say, conflates the two.
The violent clashes in Murshidabad, which resulted in three deaths and over a hundred arrests, are a grim reminder of the stakes involved. The Calcutta High Court’s directive to deploy Central Forces and the Union Home Secretary’s direct oversight reflect a crisis that could have been averted with greater foresight. This episode evokes memories of past upheavals—the post-Indira Gandhi assassination riots, the Mandal Commission fallout, the violence after the Babri Masjid demolition, and the protests that followed the Supreme Court’s Shah Bano ruling in 1985. That verdict, which granted maintenance to a divorced Muslim woman, triggered nationwide protests, seen by many as interference in personal laws. The subsequent legislation, passed to appease protesters, only widened communal rifts.
History teaches us that when laws are perceived to violate religious or cultural identities, societies can edge dangerously close to rupture. The Shah Bano controversy is a cautionary tale of how quickly trust can dissolve into unrest. At a time when global conflicts—from Russia and Ukraine to Israel and Palestine—rage on, India remains a rare example of coexistence. Seventy-five years after independence, our unity amidst diversity is both remarkable and fragile. Democracy may run on majority rule, but it thrives on consensus and inclusion. No political mandate should come at the cost of alienating communities that are integral to the Indian mosaic.
There is also the matter of India’s international standing. Laws that appear to target specific communities can deepen the perception of a shrinking civic space for minorities. India has long prided itself on being a democratic counterpoint to theocratic regimes; it must not allow that image to fade.
The Bill’s referral to a Joint Parliamentary Committee had offered a glimmer of hope for dialogue, but retaining the most contentious provisions suggests that opportunity has been squandered. With protests intensifying and legal challenges mounting in the Supreme Court, the government must step back and reconsider. Transparency in Waqf management is essential, but not at the expense of constitutional principles or social harmony. The BJP must commit to meaningful consultation and respond to legitimate concerns in a way that reassures all communities. If it fails to do so, the cost will not just be measured in court verdicts or political fallout, but in the erosion of trust that underpins the Indian republic.
India deserves legislation that unites—not one that divides.