top of page

By:

Vivek Bhavsar

23 March 2026 at 3:25:17 am

Focus back on Pasmanda Muslim leadership

Mumbai: Shabbir Ansari is gone. But in his passing, a question has resurfaced — why did mainstream India ignore Pasmanda Muslim leadership for decades? Post-independence politics in India made a convenient assumption — that the Muslim community is homogeneous, with uniform issues and a singular leadership. This was a fundamental mistake. In reality, the Muslim community, like any other in India, is deeply stratified — marked by caste hierarchies, economic inequality, and social exclusion....

Focus back on Pasmanda Muslim leadership

Mumbai: Shabbir Ansari is gone. But in his passing, a question has resurfaced — why did mainstream India ignore Pasmanda Muslim leadership for decades? Post-independence politics in India made a convenient assumption — that the Muslim community is homogeneous, with uniform issues and a singular leadership. This was a fundamental mistake. In reality, the Muslim community, like any other in India, is deeply stratified — marked by caste hierarchies, economic inequality, and social exclusion. Yet, this reality was rarely acknowledged in political discourse. “Pasmanda” refers to those left behind. Within India’s Muslim population are numerous marginalized communities — Julaha, Ansari, Pinjari, Nadaf, Kasab, Momin, Fakir, Mehtar, among others — who have historically remained excluded from education, employment, and political representation. They had no dedicated policies, no visible leadership, and almost no presence in mainstream narratives. Uncomfortable Issues It is in this context that Shabbir Ansari’s contribution becomes significant. He was not merely a leader, but a field researcher, an organiser, and a social mobiliser. He travelled extensively across villages, documenting communities — their caste identities, occupations, and social positions. He identified nearly 60–70 backward Muslim communities and worked to bring them into a shared political consciousness. What is today referred to as the Pasmanda discourse was, in many ways, built through such grassroots efforts. The implementation of the Mandal Commission in the 1990s reshaped India’s social justice framework, but Muslim communities were initially left out. In Maharashtra, in 1994, during the tenure of then Chief Minister Sharad Pawar, Muslim OBCs were brought within the Mandal framework. This was not just a bureaucratic decision; it was the outcome of sustained grassroots mobilisation led by leaders like Shabbir Ansari. The impact was significant — access to education and public employment expanded for thousands of youth from backward Muslim communities. The 2006 Sachar Committee report acknowledged the socio-economic backwardness of Muslims in India and pointed to internal diversity within the community. Yet, even after Sachar, public discourse continued to treat Muslims as a single category. The internal stratification — especially caste-based marginalisation — remained underexplored. Recognising the Pasmanda question complicates politics. It raises uncomfortable issues about caste within Muslims, redistribution of representation, and restructuring of social justice frameworks. Instead of engaging with this complexity, politics chose simplification — treating Muslims as a single electoral bloc. This brings us to a difficult question: why was Shabbir Ansari not recognised at the national level? A man who built networks, mobilised communities, and influenced policy received neither national honours nor sustained visibility. This cannot be dismissed as an oversight. It reflects a deeper pattern of institutional neglect. Despite his contributions, Shabbir Ansari lived a modest life, without seeking power, wealth, or recognition. In India, such leadership often receives recognition only after it is too late. In recent years, the term “Pasmanda” has re-entered political discourse. But the key question remains — is this a genuine shift in understanding, or merely a strategic adaptation? Because addressing Pasmanda concerns requires more than rhetoric. It demands data-driven policy, sustained engagement, and political will. With Shabbir Ansari’s passing, three questions remain. Will Pasmanda leadership find independent political space? Will social justice frameworks extend meaningfully within Muslim communities? Or will this issue once again be reduced to electoral symbolism? Shabbir Ansari represents more than a life. He represents an unfinished project. The question now is simple — will India engage with that project seriously, or continue to ignore it?

Selective Outrage

India’s left-liberal media has long prided itself on being the torchbearer of secularism, dissent and moral rectitude. In the aftermath of ‘Operation Sindoor,’ the precision military strike launched by the Modi government against Pakistan-based terror camps, it has revealed its not a principled commitment to peace or truth, but a disturbing penchant for ideological prejudice, performative sanctimony and selective outrage.


The operation itself was a textbook display of calibrated force and geopolitical prudence. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, often caricatured as ‘authoritarian’ by the ‘liberal’ English-language commentariat, chose patience over provocation. He consulted opposition leaders, held detailed discussions with defence chiefs and took key international stakeholders, notably the United States and Russia, into confidence before authorising limited military action. The symbolism of ‘Operation Sindoor’ was also carefully crafted: a pointed reminder that the attack’s real victims were Hindu women widowed by Pakistan-sponsored militants in Kashmir. The government’s briefings were also strategic and symbolic as two ranking female officers, one of them Muslim, were made the public face of the mission, underlining a new Indian confidence that blends military muscle with democratic pluralism.


But this was unacceptable for India’s entrenched ‘left-liberal’ press, steeped in academic jargon, Western validation and a knee-jerk hostility to anything remotely ‘Hindutva.’ That a Muslim officer briefed the nation on ‘Operation Sindoor’ was branded ‘tokenism’ by such commentators. Others crudely alleged that the April 22 Pahalgam massacre was the logical culmination of reported atrocities against Muslims since Modi came to power in 2014.


The semantic nitpicking over ‘Operation Sindoor’ was maddening. An editor of a prominent magazine dubbed the operation’s name as ‘patriarchal’ and coded in Hindutva tropes. In a bizarre case of moral inversion, sindoor was likened to symbols of ‘honour killings’ and gender oppression, ignoring both its cultural resonance and the cruel reality that these women had lost their husbands in cold blood. For years, India’s ‘secular’ commentariat nurtured a preordained binary: the Congress may be flawed but was at least ‘secular’ while the BJP was an inveterate ‘fascist.’ Thus, the 2002 Gujarat riots are always focused upon but the Congress-backed pogrom of the Sikhs in 1984 is either downplayed or rationalised. Terrorism in Kashmir is tragic, but state retaliation is ‘jingoism.’ A strong Muslim voice in government is ‘tokenism’ but its absence is ‘exclusion.’ Even journalistic rigour is selectively applied. When Pakistan claimed to have downed Indian jets, some Indian outlets rushed to amplify the story before verification, inadvertently echoing enemy propaganda.


Dissent is vital in any democracy. But when its becomes indistinguishable from disdain, when editorial choices are dictated by ideological conformity, then the press becomes a caricature of itself. Ironically, many of these journalists enjoy robust free speech and loudly lament India’s supposed slide into ‘fascism’ from the safety of their X handles. Yet they turn a blind eye to Putin’s repression, Erdogan’s purges or Xi Jinping’s camps. In their eyes, Modi remains the greatest threat to democracy even as they broadcast their outrage freely, without fear of censorship or reprisal. ‘Operation Sindoor’ was a statement of cultural self-confidence. That confidence has rattled those who have spent their careers gatekeeping Indian discourse. Today, their monopoly is over. The people are watching and they no longer believe that the emperor has clothes.

Comments

bottom of page