Arshia Malik is an influential writer, blogger, and social commentator. She hails from Srinagar and is currently based in Delhi. Her areas of expertise and focus include Muslim women’s issues and conflict zones in India, with a particular emphasis on the complex dynamics in Kashmir. In addition to her writing career, Arshia ji is also a Consulting Editor for ‘The New Indian’ and an avid collector of progressive literature of Muslim heritage.
She regularly contributes to publications like The New Indian, Swarajya, News18, and Firstpost. She has earned recognition for her insightful commentary on a range of subjects related to sharia, Muslim women, Islam, and the broader South Asian context.
This article is based on her interview on our ‘Dharma Explorers’ platform. Click here to access the full video recording of the interview.
Please tell us about your growing-up years, family, and other influences that shaped your personality and worldview
Many people ask me about what shaped me, so let me share my story again. I was born in Srinagar, but my formative years were spent in New Delhi, in an area called Chanakyapuri. It’s known for its diverse culture because it has embassies and consulates and a lot of regional Bhawans (state government properties), and it was a terror-free era, hence a lot of mixing in a cosmopolitan way. My father worked as the Manager at the Kashmir House for many years. Growing up in such a multicultural environment, I was exposed to various cultures and people from different backgrounds. Our neighborhood was close to areas with different Indian cultures and foreign embassies, which was quite open and safe at the time, allowing us to interact freely with diverse people.
In school, my classmates came from many different religions and cultures, which was a great experience. However, when my family moved back to Srinagar in 1985, I experienced a kind of cultural shock in reverse. Srinagar city, in the Kashmir Valley, is surrounded by mountains, which insulates and isolates it from the rest of the world. Hence, it was not much influenced by global events or technology at the time.
In the Valley, I noticed the gap in the knowledge about the world beyond the Banihal because people there weren’t very familiar with geopolitics or world maps. During the 90s, many believed Kashmir was the center of everything. It took a lot of discussions to show them otherwise, many times in vain. This experience, along with a lifelong habit of reading books and interacting with people from different cultures since childhood, sparked my interest in Hinduism.
I’m particularly drawn to the Carvaka tradition of Hinduism, which accepts atheists and agnostics. This acceptance is something we don’t have in Islam anymore, although the Mutazilite traditions were present in what’s often called the ‘Golden Age of Islam’. My life’s work is to revive these heretic traditions and develop a critical thinking space.
Can you describe the impact of the 1980s and 1990s violence in Kashmir, especially on Kashmiri Pandits, the effects of removing Article 370, and address the widespread claims of ‘imminent’ genocide of Kashmiri Muslims by organizations like ICNA in the West?
I’ve been trying to correct these misunderstandings for a long time. Regarding the Indian American Muslim Council, any time you see their name, simply add a /Muslim Brotherhood to the prefix. This will explain everything about their agenda, actions, and perspectives. Even in the U.S. Senate, discussions about these topics are happening.
Growing up in Kashmir during the 1980s was difficult for me, having to navigate conservative attitudes and the ‘othering’ of non-Muslims, Shias, and other sects from the Sunni ones. At that time, the region was peaceful, and the problems that would define the next decades hadn’t yet started. People there were not very interested in reading books or understanding the world beyond their immediate surroundings. My appearance, which was more typical of the Indian subcontinent than the fairer complexions often associated with Kashmiris, meant that many people assumed I was not from the area. This gave me a unique perspective, as I could overhear intimate conversations in Kashmiri, revealing those attitudes without drawing attention to myself.
During this time, I began to notice an underlying sentiment against Hindus among some people in Kashmir. This was before the violence and turmoil that would later engulf the region. The late 1980s saw the beginning of a difficult period, influenced by external events like the Afghan Jihad and the Iranian Revolution. These events had a profound impact on Kashmir, introducing new tensions and conflicts.
The trouble seemed to start with small incidents. For example, I remember a time when my school bus was attacked with stones because of a strike that some organization had called for, and we were unaware of. This was my first direct experience of the growing unrest. On the surface, the protests appeared to be about everyday concerns like the need for electricity, infrastructure, and negligence from the administration but underneath, there was a strong undercurrent of religious and political discontent.
We had mosques, and there were no restrictions on our religious practices. This made me question the necessity of calling it a Jihad when there was no oppression against our religious freedom.
By the end of the decade, the situation had escalated dramatically. People (Hindus) I knew, including classmates and neighbors, began to disappear as families started leaving their homes. They would leave behind their keys with our families (the few Muslim families who did not like what was going on), asking us to look after their properties with the hope of returning soon. However, the situation on the streets worsened, and it became clear that the conflict was deepening.
As a teenager, I found myself trying to understand the events unfolding around us. The term “Jihad” started being mentioned frequently, and it brought confusion. From what our parents and grandparents had taught us, Jihad was supposed to be a struggle or fight if and only if one is not allowed to practice one’s religion. Only then is it permissible, that is what had been taught to us from the stories from the Quran and the Prophet’s life. But it was clear that Kashmiris of all hues were free to practice their faith. We had mosques, and there were no restrictions on our religious practices. This made me question the necessity of calling it a Jihad when there was no oppression against our religious freedom.
The reality of what was happening hit close to home when a tragic incident occurred in our neighborhood. A woman from the Pandit community was murdered; she had come along with her daughter to retrieve their luggage. It was particularly shocking because the militant responsible was known to us. It was a stark and horrifying reminder of how the interpretations of religious texts could be twisted to justify heinous acts. This event forced me to confront the grim reality of those interpretations, which I later came to know were Wahhabi in nature, and their effect on the minds of the Kashmiri youth.
Moreover, I was bewildered by how readily my classmates accepted the idea that Kashmir was destined to become a part of Pakistan—a notion that was often discussed as the “unfinished business of partition.” This term, which I now understand, was not something I fully grasped at the time. During those years, our community underwent significant changes; the shop fronts were painted green, people started keeping their watches to the Pakistani time zone, and there were frequent strikes and blackouts. This was a period marked by a drastic shift towards a culture alien to us, Kashmiris, and as children, we were thrust into this reality without much explanation.
For about twenty years, this was the environment in which we lived. We did not experience a normal childhood. Our schooling was frequently interrupted; I never had the typical college experience of sitting in a classroom. Instead, my “education” consisted of signing up for classes and only appearing for exams, which were often postponed or disrupted, sometimes taking months to complete.
This backdrop of constant upheaval led to visible and intense expressions of frustration and anger in the community, particularly in the generation that was born and brought up in the 1990s, culminating in expressed rage during the riots of 2010, 2011, and 2012. The youth involved in these riots, unlike me, had never experienced the relative freedom and multicultural vibrancy that characterized earlier times. Their only reality was one marked by a narrow, monochromatic culture, heavily influenced by Wahhabi and Salafi ideologies, interspersed with either the state’s high-handedness or the brutality of the Pak-ISI-sponsored terrorists.
In my attempts to make sense of the world, I also started to notice the ‘othering’ not just of Kashmiri Pandits but of Indian Muslims as well. Derogatory terms were commonly used to describe anyone who seemed different or from outside the immediate community. Since I physically did not look like a Kashmiri woman, I was often privy to the “locker room talk” without revealing my understanding of the Kashmiri language. These conversations made me realize the full extent of the prejudices present in my society.
These insights into the caste system, the underlying racism, and the dark realities of our local institutions have significantly shaped my writings. In my work, I discuss these harsh truths, which are often unpopular. People generally resist facing these uncomfortable reflections of themselves and their community. Yet, it is through exploring these difficult topics that I aim to contribute to a broader understanding and, hopefully, initiate some form of change within society that shaped me. This endeavor, while challenging, is crucial for fostering a deeper, more critical examination of our collective experiences and the social structures we navigate daily.
What about the post revocation of Article 370? Do you see any progress toward normalization?
I am, by nature, a skeptical person, especially because of what I’ve seen in Kashmir. Imagine being surrounded by so much violence – the sound of grenades, gunfire, and the sight of houses burning. Plus, my parents’ marriage and the consequent separation by oral triple talaq, no alimony for decades, etc., these experiences leave a deep mark on you, causing a lot of doubt about what has been told to you and what is in practice. Hence, my skepticism about whether things can change for the better.
Recently, there have been many signs suggesting everything in Kashmir is getting better. People even come up to me to say they believe their future looks good. It’s encouraging, but I can’t help but remain cautious.
Recently, there have been many signs suggesting everything in Kashmir is getting better. People even come up to me to say they believe their future looks good. It’s encouraging, but I can’t help but remain cautious. My work has always been about understanding extremism and terrorism, and I’ve seen how deep-rooted these issues can be.
I am even skeptical of the recent social reforms in Saudi Arabia. Having experienced the impact of strict religious beliefs firsthand, I’m skeptical that such deep-seated views can completely disappear. Despite hearing about positive changes and seeing signs of openness in Kashmir—like young people embracing their Indian identity—I am vigilant to the insidious nature of radical political Islam to creep into life and become normalized.
It’s not common now to hear someone from Kashmir proudly say they’re Indian, which was almost unheard of before. This change in attitude is significant, but changing deep-seated beliefs takes a very long time, possibly centuries. My research and observations have shown me that attitudes are slow to change.
The history of the Kashmiri Pandits, who have had to leave their homes multiple times, reminds us of this slow pace of change. It’s a cautionary tale that, while things may look better on the surface, we need to be aware of underlying issues that still exist. So, I remain watchful even as I see progress, always considering the complexities of changing attitudes and beliefs based on my experiences and research.
Could you elaborate on the challenges Kashmiri Hindus faced and your experiences of being targeted online and in person?
In Kashmir, there’s a term called the “Intifada factory,” which was not created by me but by a well-known cultural critic from Kashmir, Sualeh Keen, from Anantnag, who is also a friend. The term, a combination of – “Intifada,” borrowed from Palestinian contexts, describes an armed Islamic uprising and “factory” that produces these armed rebels, intellectuals, and subversives in an assembly line year after year since the 1990s. The ‘intifada factory’ comprises a diverse group of individuals from various professions, like bureaucrats, civil society members, doctors, professors, engineers, police officers, journalists, teachers, social media influencers, and even politicians.
In the Valley, there was a time when this Intifada factory dominated, leading to a situation where everyone kept an eye on each other. It was like living in an Orwellian nightmare, where your every word and action, offline and on social media, were monitored.
In the Valley, there was a time when this Intifada factory dominated, leading to a situation where everyone kept an eye on each other. It was like living in an Orwellian nightmare, where your every word and action, offline and on social media, were monitored. There was only one university at that time, Kashmir University, and the atmosphere was so controlled that even teachers and lecturers were watched closely. Anyone showing the slightest disagreement or dissent with the idea of Azadi or a merger with Pakistan was targeted by this factory.
Journalists played a significant role in this surveillance, keeping records of those who spoke out. My husband, who was a journalist, and I were both on their list. He had seen from the inside the intifada factory’s media network how corruption spread and how people’s suffering was exploited and sold, both metaphorically and literally. Despite the danger, I was more outspoken because I was headstrong and rooted in Delhi and didn’t worry as much for myself. However, I was always concerned for my husband’s safety, especially when he received warnings about my social media posts.
I recall the year when Tarek Fatah became well-known in India and took off on social media. During that time, I had a back-and-forth conversation with him on Facebook. We discovered that we agreed on many issues, especially concerning oppressive practices in Islam. A few months after this interaction, I suddenly lost my job. It turned out that a high-ranking editor from a well-known newspaper (who was later gunned down by terrorists) had called my employer, leading to my dismissal from a prestigious school.
We also faced threats in more direct ways, such as visits from unidentified individuals who would leave warnings with our family members about the consequences of my writings. This kind of persecution was not uncommon, and while I believe I didn’t suffer the worst of it, there have been others who were killed for their dissenting views. I speak for those silenced voices, trying to bring attention to their stories and the injustices they faced. Having lost my job and living in an atmosphere of constant threats, I felt I had no choice but to leave the Valley.
I noticed that after 2014, the conversation around Islam started changing. People were critically analyzing Islam, but not all of it was Islamophobic. The term “Islamophobia” is often used to discourage criticism of Islam. I always point out to people that the correct terms should be “Muslim-phobia” or “anti-Muslim bigotry” if they need to label the discrimination that Muslims face anywhere. However, the term “Islamophobia” is still widely used because it conveys a specific idea.
Despite these challenges, I don’t see myself as a victim. However, I’ve faced many personal struggles that relate to Islamic laws. My mother’s case is similar to that of the well-known 1984 Shah Bano case. My parents split up, and my mother, with two minor daughters, struggled to get any support from my father, fighting for maintenance for years without success. Now, as an adult, I still face issues related to Sharia laws. Since I only have a sister and no brother, my uncles have tried to prevent us from receiving our father’s inheritance. Furthermore, when my husband passed away, Sharia laws stated that I was not entitled to inherit anything since my father-in-law was still alive at that particular moment, despite my having a son.
These personal experiences have made me a strong advocate for the Uniform Civil Code (UCC), as I believe personal issues are deeply political. I know my rights and am not afraid to speak out, but I often think about the countless women who aren’t even aware of their rights and cannot articulate their oppression.
After 2014, and more so after 2019, the freedom to express these views has increased significantly. Previously, people were not as open about discussing these topics. Now, even though some have taken my ideas without giving credit and are speaking out as if these were their original thoughts, I’m okay with it. What matters to me is that these critical ideas are in public and are being discussed, debated, rebutted, and shared widely. This change in the ability to speak freely about such issues marks a significant shift from how things were before, highlighting the importance of continuing to advocate for rights and equality.
As a Muslim woman with unorthodox viewpoints and minority status, how do you perceive the concept of minorities in India, where the Constitution does not define “minority”?
Firstly, while I come from a Muslim heritage, it has not convinced me to be a Muslim; instead, I consider myself an agnostic. Secondly, I don’t view myself as a minority in the broad sense because we are billions of Indians, making us one of the largest populations on Earth. However, looking more closely at my ethnic identity, it becomes clear that I am a minority in many ways. I am a woman from Kashmir, a Muslim in India, and I advocate for reforms within Islam. This makes me a minority within a minority within a minority.
In Hinduism, there’s a tradition of accepting diverse beliefs, including atheism. This kind of open acceptance is something I find lacking in the Muslim community, not just in India but globally.
Interestingly, through my research and interactions, I’ve found that progressive Muslims like me are quite numerous in India. We might even be considered a silent majority. Many progressive Muslims choose not to speak out, similar to how my late husband elected mutism in the face of intimidation in his profession. People often question where progressive Muslims are because we’re not always visible or given a platform to share our views. Creating this space for difficult discussions and critical thinking within the Muslim community is something I’m working hard to achieve.
In Hinduism, there’s a tradition of accepting diverse beliefs, including atheism. This kind of open acceptance is something I find lacking in the Muslim community, not just in India but globally. While I don’t see myself as a victim competing in an “Olympics of oppression,” there are aspects of my heritage and the laws in India, like the Muslim personal laws and Article 370 (now abrogated), that have impacted me. My goal is to work towards changing these issues, advocating for equality and the right to question and reform without being seen as less of a member of my community.
Have progressive voices like Tarek Fatah, Tahir Gora, Arif Mohammed Khan, yourself, Amana Ansari, and others always existed within the Muslim community, or is their prominence a more recent development?
Progressive voices in the Muslim world have been around since the early days of Islam. My research has shown that for every conservative or extremist figure, there’s always been a progressive or critical thinker alongside. For instance, if you had an Abdul Wahhab, you always had an Aziz Nesin, the Turkish critic. If you had a figure like Osama bin Laden, there’s always been a Farag Fouda. There has always been dissent in the Muslim world, and many have been killed for their views. Throughout Islam’s history, we’ve seen remarkable women like Fatima Mernissi and Asma Jahangir stand up against oppression, and in recent years, individuals like Masih Alinejad from Iran. Similarly, I am connected with a Pakistani journalist who is a part of the country’s free-thinking community.
This experience taught me that no matter the level of persecution or repression, there will always be brave individuals ready to speak out. The main issue has been the lack of a network connecting these voices; they existed in isolation, each fighting their own battles without a collective platform.
With the advent of social media in the subcontinent, Indian Muslims have gained access to a wealth of diverse perspectives. This new connectivity has opened the door to topics and discussions that were previously off-limits. Now, Indian Muslims are being introduced to the work of progressive Muslim intellectuals from various parts of the world, who are addressing subjects that were once considered taboo. This exposure fosters a deeper understanding and encourages critical thinking in the community.
The power of social media has not only made it possible to discover these voices but also to connect with them. Indian Muslims are now networking with scholars and writers from countries like Turkey, Egypt, and Syria, as well as from continents like Australia, Europe, and North America. These connections are enriching their intellectual landscape and broadening the scope of discourse on various cultural and religious issues.
Before the rise of social media, many of these insightful voices existed in isolation, lacking a platform to be heard widely. Today, however, they can reach a global audience, sparking discussions and collaborations that were not possible before. For instance, engaging with international figures and their works allows Indian Muslims to bring global perspectives into local conversations.
This expansion of dialogue is similar to my efforts in reaching out to different groups to foster dialogue and hopefully find mutual understanding. The saying, “I started alone, and then the caravan follows me,” resonates with my experience. I began addressing these sensitive topics publicly in the early 2000s, post-9/11, highlighting issues such as the treatment of women, including acid attacks for not adhering to strict dress codes, and the oppressive diktats from terrorist groups.
Now, these issues are becoming part of a larger conversation. The once solitary path is now being traveled by many, as these crucial discussions take center stage in a more connected and aware society.
You mentioned a “Muslim Spring” inspired by the Arab Spring and similar movements in Iran, with writers challenging Islamic beliefs. Why do you think the movement for rationalism within Islam has struggled to gain a lasting foothold despite a significant presence of reform and rational thought throughout Islam’s history?
Your question hits right at the core of my pessimism. In my exploration of Islamic history, I’ve noticed that reform efforts have always been present, stretching back to the earliest days of Islam, including during the Abbasid Dynasty, often hailed as the “Golden Age of Islam.” However, I question this label of a golden age. A more appropriate label might be the “age of translations” – drawing inspiration from Hindu, Chinese, Byzantine, and Hellenistic Greek texts.
Yet, despite these moments of openness, every attempt at reform within Islam seems to be overtaken by more conservative forces. For instance, the rise of the Mu’tazilites, who prioritized reason over text, was countered by figures like Imam Hanbal, advocating for strict textual adherence. The Mu’tazilites’ overreach, exemplified by their Inquisition-like mihna, underscores the cyclical pattern of reform and resistance and the triumph of Asharites (text over reasoning).
Further along in history, the Tanzimat reforms in the Ottoman Empire aimed to modernize and align Turkey with Western standards of governance and society, leading eventually to the abolition of the caliphate. The Arab world saw its renaissance, the Nahda, which also fell prey to conservative backlash, laying pathways to modern fundamentalist movements like Wahhabism.
My pessimism, then, is rooted in this historical cycle of attempted reform being consistently undermined by conservative elements within Islam.
Each historical instance of reform, including the Arab Spring, has been co-opted by conservatives, leading to the current turmoil in West Asia. In India, the Muslim Spring manifests in grassroots movements like the campaign against triple talaq and advocacy for a Uniform Civil Code (UCC), aligning with broader calls for cultural resurgence. However, the recurring theme is that such movements often get hijacked.
This pessimism stems from the realization that the theological foundations of Islam, as they stand, resist the kind of profound reform necessary for these movements to sustain and succeed. Questioning the core tenets of Islam—its holy book, the Hadiths, the life of the Prophet, and the actions of the caliphs—enters what is considered dangerous territory. The lack of space for critical thinking and debate within the Muslim community, especially in India, hampers progress. While there exists a silent majority that might support reform, the environment does not foster open dialogue or questioning.
My pessimism, then, is rooted in this historical cycle of attempted reform being consistently undermined by conservative elements within Islam. The challenge lies in fostering an environment where critical thinking can flourish without fear, allowing for genuine questioning and debate. Unfortunately, the current structure and cultural attitudes within many Muslim communities, including in India, make this a difficult task.
Do you see any reason for optimism?
Yes, there’s a wave of cultural revival in India that brings a ray of hope. This revival celebrates the rich Vedic traditions and the diverse indigenous cultures across the country. Indians are reconnecting with their heritage and taking pride in their ancient roots. Hinduism’s long history of tolerance and acceptance provides a strong foundation for this optimism. Over the centuries, Hinduism has offered refuge to many, from the family of Prophet Muhammad to Jewish and Zoroastrian communities, showcasing a spirit of inclusivity that predates many major world religions.
This cultural resurgence and pride in India’s heritage are reasons for optimism. They create an environment where Muslims can feel safe to reach their full potential.
This cultural resurgence and pride in India’s heritage are reasons for optimism. They create an environment where Muslims can feel safe to reach their full potential. Hinduism’s inclusive nature doesn’t hinder Muslims from practicing their faith or following the five pillars of Islam. Consider the facilities provided for Hajj pilgrims or the respect shown towards different beliefs within India. This openness also encourages Muslims to embrace critical thinking and reform, recognizing that change and questioning are part of growth. Reformers, despite facing criticism, are respected for their courage to challenge regressive practices.
However, harmful practices are still happening, especially in semi-urban and rural areas in the Hindi heartland and the South. For example, FGM (female genital mutilation) is still happening in the Bohra community, and there are no laws against it. Child marriage is also still a problem among Indian Muslims. Even though Triple Talaq (a form of divorce in Islam) has been banned, some Muslim men still find ways around this ban. Because of this, many Indian Muslim women are still being abandoned by their husbands.
The path to genuine freedom for Indian Muslim women lies in the collective efforts of the government and the majority of society to advocate for a Uniform Civil Code (UCC). Such advocacy could ensure that all Indian women, regardless of their religious background, enjoy equal rights and freedoms. This blend of optimism and pessimism reflects the complex journey towards achieving equality and justice in India, driven by a rich cultural heritage and a commitment to inclusivity and reform.
Despite a long history of cultural blend in India, why are we suddenly seeing divisive debates, particularly around dress codes like the hijab?
The shift you’ve noticed, with increasing religious divisions and changes in traditional practices among Muslims in India, can largely be attributed to the rise of Wahhabism in the subcontinent. This phenomenon has been thoroughly analyzed in Kim Ghattas’ book – Black Wave: Saudi Arabia, Iran and the Rivalry That Unraveled the Middle East. Ghattas, a Lebanese-American author, discusses the deep-rooted rivalry between Saudi Arabia and Iran, each striving to be seen as the true custodian of Islam. This competition feeds into the long-standing Shia-Sunni conflict that has persisted since the Prophet died.
People often overlook the diversity among Muslims in India, and I believe the media is partly to blame because they don’t produce many documentaries or feature stories about progressive Muslims. For example, there are Muslim Rajputs who wear saris, put on bindis, and incorporate Hindu rituals into their weddings, showing a blend of cultural practices. This shows that Indian Muslims are not all the same; we vary significantly from region to region — from Vadodara to Bengal, from Kashmir to Malabar. We are not a monolith; we have assimilated and developed our customs over centuries, often integrating Hindu elements. This is a sign of coexistence and tolerance, traits that stem from India’s largely secular majority.
Unfortunately, the rise of Wahhabism since the 1980s, fueled by petrodollar investments, threatens this secular and tolerant fabric of Indian society.
However, these progressive voices are rarely highlighted in the media, often to avoid accusations of blasphemy. I protect the identities of progressive Muslims I speak with by changing their names, professions, and locations to keep their identities safe. This situation creates a vicious circle, but it’s essential to recognize that such diversity and integration exist.
Unfortunately, the rise of Wahhabism since the 1980s, fueled by petrodollar investments, threatens this secular and tolerant fabric of Indian society. This is why I am pessimistic about the cosmetic reforms under leaders like MbS (Mohammed bin Salman of Saudi Arabia).
This situation underscores a broader challenge: while India’s secularism and tolerance are largely due to the Hindu majority’s secular values, the influence of Wahhabism threatens to undermine these foundations. The influx of conservative ideology, supported by significant financial backing, has shifted the dynamics within Muslim communities, causing my pessimism about the future unless this trend can be countered effectively.
What’s wrong with women choosing to wear a hijab?
The idea that wearing a veil or a burqa is a choice would be valid if not a single woman anywhere was forced into it. However, in reality, women are being coerced in many places, and that makes this claim questionable. For example, some women are pressured to the point of facing imprisonment, lashes, acid attacks, and honor killings if they do not comply. This daily fear is evident in situations like those faced by women in Iran, where the pressure to conform to dress norms can be immense.
Moreover, from a very young age, many girls are conditioned to wear the veil. This conditioning begins so early that by the time they are adults, the notion of it being a voluntary choice is questionable. The teachings about veiling in Islam that many of us receive from our parents or grandparents often suggest that it’s not mandatory and is a choice to be made when one feels ready, perhaps as an adult, whether in their 20s, 30s, or even later. The idea is that veiling is part of becoming pious (Moomin), a deep, personal decision made when someone chooses to focus more intensely on their faith.
The distinction needs to be made between simply being a Muslim and striving to be a devout believer (Moomin), which is a lifelong journey. Claiming that veiling is a mere choice oversimplifies this deep, personal process and ignores the coercion involved.
I respect any woman’s decision to wear traditional garments like a burqa if it truly is her choice. However, problems arise when these choices are used to judge and shame others who do not dress the same way.
I respect any woman’s decision to wear traditional garments like a burqa if it truly is her choice. However, problems arise when these choices are used to judge and shame others who do not dress the same way. Such behavior often indicates that the decision to veil was not made freely but was instead imposed, either directly or through societal pressure.
Additionally, when militant groups in regions like Kashmir issue directives that women must wear the burqa, hijab, or abaya, and when families start pressuring women to dress a certain way out of fear for their safety, it’s clear that coercion is at play.
Such coercion also sends a damaging message to men. It implies that men cannot be trusted to control themselves around women, affecting how they view themselves and their relationships with women. It reinforces a harmful narrative that women need to be hidden for their safety, which is detrimental to everyone’s understanding of gender equality and mutual respect.
In the cultural context of the subcontinent, simple practices like using a dupatta to cover oneself in front of elders or religious places were traditionally sufficient. These practices are respectful yet do not erase a woman’s identity. The extreme measure of covering a woman so completely that even her eyes, face, hair, hands, and feet are hidden is a distortion of cultural norms and likely not what was intended by religious texts. The idea that God created a diverse and beautiful world only to have women hide themselves completely doesn’t align with the broader values of individuality and expression.
Fatima Mernissi is a scholar who critically examined religious texts on the subject. She pointed out that many of the teachings used to justify full veiling are based on dubious hadiths—sayings of Prophet Muhammad recorded centuries after his death. These texts have often been interpreted in ways that align with the interests of a male-dominated clerical class (ulema) rather than reflecting the original message of Islam. There is no clear directive in the Quran that women should erase their identities and completely cover themselves.
It is crucial to understand the historical and political layers that have influenced the practice of veiling. The interpretations that require women to cover themselves entirely are based on later, more conservative teachings, not on the foundational texts of Islam, which advocate modesty but do not specify the need to hide one’s personality or body entirely.
How can the idea of erasing women’s identities be reconciled with Hindu culture that reveres women as Adi Shakti?
I appreciate the idea of Ardh Nareshwar from Hinduism, which symbolizes a blend of both male and female aspects. This concept resonates with women like me who exhibit both feminine and masculine traits. Hinduism not only acknowledges this duality but also celebrates sensuality, which I find beautiful. In contrast, Islam completely erases human sensuality, something that Western civilizations, like those in ancient Greece, have embraced through art and sculpture. Celebrating the human body highlights the diversity and beauty inherent in humanity.
Women are the carriers of the future generations. They are future mothers who are eventually going to bring up future sons and daughters. When a culture insists on putting their women in black tents (burqa), it can have a deep psychological impact on the community. You can see the consequences of such restrictive practices in the social dynamics around the world, whether in Srinagar, European cities, or Gaza. The events of October 7, involving attacks by Hamas on Israel, which included acts of violence against civilians, are extreme examples of how deep-seated tensions and suppressions can erupt into severe conflict and tragedy.
Why do various groups with differing ideologies, including Muslims, left-leaning liberals, and Ambedkarites, appear to form a nexus in promoting a rabidly anti-Hindu narrative, particularly in Western countries, despite their ideological differences?
Rajiv Malhotra ji has significantly expanded upon his ideas in his book “Snakes in the Ganga.” Asra Nomani, too, introduced the concept of the “Red-Green Alliance,” also known as the woke army, to highlight a new trend that we are now witnessing. British political activist Majid Nawaaz notably coined the term “regressive left” to describe a shift away from traditional leftist values, which historically focused on anarchy and opposition to capitalism. This ‘new left’ seems to have abandoned its roots entirely.
Islam’s ideology, particularly in its more radical forms, emphasizes political domination and supremacy. This has naturally led to a temporary alliance with the left, though this is not often disclosed. Should this alliance achieve its immediate goals, these groups will likely begin to cancel each other. Leftism, at its core, aligns with communism, and its alliance with Islam is a strategic one for now. Understanding this nexus and network of connections can be quite eye-opening.
Ibn Khaldun Bharati wrote a compelling article in one of India’s leading news sites ‘The Print,’ and I’ve referenced him repeatedly in my writings. Ibn Khaldun Bharati is a pseudonym used by a respected Indian citizen to avoid the backlash associated with his real identity, which is of Muslim heritage. When writing under his name, he faced significant hostility, prompting the use of a pseudonym. His work discusses the alliance between Hindu liberals and Muslim communalists, whose primary focus is anti-India and anti-Hindu sentiment. These efforts are often financially supported, with funding from sources like Soros’ Open Society, pointing to a larger geopolitical game at play.
Unfortunately, major international media outlets like the Washington Post, The New York Times, Al Jazeera, etc., all play roles in this broader narrative. However, India has begun to resist these influences. We see this resistance on various fronts, including our geopolitical independence, initiatives like ‘Make in India,’ advancements in our defense capabilities, and various counter-narratives and policies such as counterterrorism efforts and so-called “bulldozer politics.”
These efforts are all part of India’s pushback against forces that seem determined to challenge traditional authority and conservative values, which some might label as right-wing. The long-standing goal of these alliances and influences has been to suppress India’s stature and growth (the new Great Game). This has been a consistent theme throughout our history.
Understanding the objectives of these groups is crucial. They are fundamentally opposed to traditional structures of authority and cultural conservatism. Identifying and addressing these influences is essential for maintaining our national integrity and promoting a balanced discourse in the face of global and local challenges.
In the relationship of diverse ideologies, someone always ends up being the “useful idiot.” Who is/are the useful idiot(s) in this relationship?
The goal of radical political Islam is domination. They often use what some call liberals from Hindu heritage or the ‘regressive left’. The left doesn’t see it because they are deeply influenced by postmodernism and cultural relativism. They end up treating Islam the same as any other belief system.
God forbid, if India is somehow breached (i.e., taken over by the Islamists), it will be with the help of the regressive left – the “useful idiots” – from Hindu heritage.
I find myself constantly pointing out that not all cultures are the same; some are very regressive. For example, no other culture practices Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). Also, no other culture beheads or kills someone over a cartoon of a religious figure. This kind of extremism doesn’t happen in other cultures, only in ours. Look at over 56 Muslim-majority countries; each has issues with extremism, whether it’s Boko Haram in Nigeria, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, SFI in India, or terrorist groups in Pakistan. This problem also appears in European cities, often linked to individuals with a Muslim background.
This shows a lack of self-reflection when people keep saying all cultures are equal. Some are naively used by radical political Islam because of their liberal beliefs in universal rights. This exploitation of liberalism and tolerance is what’s happening. God forbid, if India is somehow breached (i.e., taken over by the Islamists), it will be with the help of the regressive left – the “useful idiots” – from Hindu heritage.
Islam is popularly portrayed as the ultimate egalitarian religion. How do you reconcile the egalitarian image of Islam with its deeply hierarchical structure?
I often hear from the regressive left that Hinduism has its problems, too. Indeed, every culture and religion has its challenges. However, the response within communities to these problems is what’s important.
In Hinduism, numerous reforms have been implemented over the years. When there is an incident of violence against Muslims in India, there are many Hindus who stand up and protest, declaring such acts as wrong. In contrast, when similar incidents happen in the Hindu community involving Muslim perpetrators, it is rare to see Muslims standing up to condemn the violators. This disparity is at the core of my concern.
Looking at the legal framework, Hinduism has undergone significant reforms. Laws like the Hindu Marriage Act and the broader Hindu Code Bill have modernized and improved the rights within the Hindu community. These changes reflect a progressive attitude towards evolving societal norms and ensuring justice within the contemporary framework.
On the other hand, the laws governing Muslims, particularly the 1937 Sharia Act established during British times, have never been updated. This act, just a four-page document, merely states that Muslims will be governed by Sharia laws without any welfarist objectives. In contrast, laws for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes in India include provisions for welfare and positive discrimination, like reservations, to uplift these communities.
Moreover, they even argue for the caste system persisting in Muslim communities, which they blame on residual Hindu culture from before their conversion. If Islam is promoted as a religion of equality and peace, why then has the caste system not been eradicated despite centuries of Islamic influence?
Furthermore, if someone from the Muslim community questions certain hadiths or practices—like the mistreatment of women, including abandonment or mutilation—they are often accused of blasphemy. The consequences of such accusations can be severe, as blasphemy is harshly punished in many Islamic contexts, sometimes even by death. Thus, the potential reformers within the Muslim community face significant risks, which stifle progress and change.
In your writings, you discussed the Hamas raid on October 7 in Israel, comparing it to the 1947 raid. What happened during that raid, and how does it compare to the recent Hamas raid?
I have heard of the accounts of this brutal attack on Kashmir after India gained independence in 1947, called the ‘kabaili’ raid. This incident involved a collection of Afghani tribals, aided by the Pakistan army, who attacked Kashmir and reached as far as Baramulla. However, they were unable to reach Srinagar due to the intervention of the Indian Army after the region acceded to India.
I learned more about this from Dr. Ramesh Tamiri’s book, an ophthalmologist originally from Kashmir who is now living in Jammu. He has recently published a book titled “Pakistan Invasion on J&K (1947-48) – Untold Story of Victims,” focusing on the stories of the victims of the 1947 Pakistani invasion. Over the years, through my interactions with him, I’ve come to understand the terrible details of these attacks.
As news of the October 7 attacks began to emerge, I noticed striking similarities in the brutality described. Andrew Whitehead has also written extensively about the attack on the Baramulla mission, including assaults on nuns and the killing of civilians, and even offered his book for free on his blog.
Dr. Tamiri’s account is significant because it highlights how families from different backgrounds, including Muslim and Sikh families, suffered yet did not initially receive much attention in historical narratives. Only now, more than 70 years later, are these stories gaining attention. Efforts are being made to preserve these accounts through archives and oral histories, especially from those still alive who remember the events.
Such testimonies reveal the harsh reality that during conflicts, acts like rape are used as weapons of war. In the case of Baramulla, the delay caused by the tribesmen, who stayed to pillage and loot, ironically prevented them from advancing further, which might have led to even more widespread devastation.
Dr. Tamiri’s book, which is now available for purchase, provides a detailed and sobering look at these events. It’s a challenging read, especially considering similar brutal events that continue to occur, like the October 7 Hamas attacks.
Dr. Tamiri has created a virtual library of these cases, documenting them using his resources. It’s impressive that individuals are undertaking such important work on their own, driven by their love for the country. However, it would be beneficial if national or international support could help them to scale up their efforts significantly.
Do you have any parting message for the Hindus?
My message for Hindus is simple: Take pride in your roots because understanding your heritage is crucial, especially when facing challenges. Right now, the challenge is radical political Islam.
My message to Hindus is simple: Take pride in your roots because understanding your heritage is crucial, especially when facing challenges. Right now, the challenge is radical political Islam. Observe how they support each other, no matter the circumstances. In India, take the example of Umar Khalid, who is under trial for being a ‘key conspirator’ in the Delhi riots, which resulted in the deaths of 53 people. He openly identifies himself as an atheist, yet despite this, the regressive left and liberals rally around him while hypocritically demonizing other heretics of Muslim heritage who may not necessarily hate Hindus and see through the agenda activists like Zubair of AltNews and Rana Ayyub, defaming the country in WaPo. The left-liberals defend him fiercely, as do Muslims who want to establish Islamism and even Hindus who want to burnish their secular credentials.
Embrace your history and the richness of your civilization. It’s one of the few civilizations that has withstood the tests of time—surviving invasions, conquests, imperialism, and colonialism. The more you value and understand your past, the safer and stronger our society becomes. This is especially important for us Muslims who seek reform and progress and for progressive Muslims who are fully integrated into this grand civilization.
Celebrating your roots provides a foundation that not only strengthens our identity but also safeguards us, particularly Muslim women. It helps us curb the influence of those who might unintentionally support harmful ideologies without realizing it. So, by taking pride in where we come from, we ensure a safer and more resilient community for everyone.
