Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025: Key Losses and Why Muslims Regret Its Passage

The Losses of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025

Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025: Key Losses and Why Muslims Regret Its Passage

The Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, has stirred significant debate across India, particularly within the Muslim community. Passed by the Indian Parliament in April 2025 and given assent by President Droupadi Murmu, this legislation aims to reform the management of Waqf properties—lands and assets dedicated under Islamic law for religious or charitable purposes. While the government touts it as a step toward transparency and efficiency, many Muslims view it as a loss of autonomy and a threat to their religious and cultural identity. This article explores the losses introduced by the bill, why Muslims regret its passage, and what it means for the future of Waqf properties in India. Let’s dive into this complex issue with an open mind and a clear lens.

What is the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025?

Before we unpack the losses and regrets, it’s essential to understand what the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, entails. Waqf refers to properties donated by Muslims for pious, religious, or charitable purposes, such as mosques, madrasas, orphanages, and community welfare projects. These properties, governed by the Waqf Act of 1995, are managed by state Waqf Boards and the Central Waqf Council, ensuring they serve their intended purpose in perpetuity.

The 2025 amendment, officially renamed the Unified Waqf Management, Empowerment, Efficiency, and Development (UMEED) Act, introduces sweeping changes to this framework. The government claims these reforms address mismanagement, corruption, and inefficiency in Waqf administration. Key provisions include mandatory digital registration of Waqf properties, the inclusion of non-Muslims in Waqf Boards, the removal of the “Waqf by user” concept, and transferring dispute resolution authority from Waqf Tribunals to district collectors or senior government officials. While these changes sound administrative on paper, their implications run deep, sparking widespread concern among Muslims.

The Losses of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025

The passage of the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, has been perceived by many as a series of losses—both tangible and intangible—for the Muslim community. These losses affect property rights, religious autonomy, and cultural heritage. Let’s break them down step by step.

1. Loss of Autonomy Over Waqf Properties

One of the most significant losses is the erosion of Muslim autonomy over Waqf properties. Historically, Waqf Boards—composed exclusively of Muslims—have had the authority to declare properties as Waqf and resolve disputes internally. The 2025 amendment strips this power away, handing it to district collectors or government-appointed officials. This shift means that a secular authority, rather than a community-led body, now holds the final say in determining whether a property qualifies as Waqf.

For example, under the new law, properties lacking formal documentation—a common scenario for centuries-old mosques or graveyards—can no longer be automatically recognized as Waqf. Instead, a government official decides their fate, often requiring extensive paperwork that many small Waqf institutions cannot provide. Critics argue this opens the door to government overreach, potentially allowing the state to reclaim or repurpose Waqf lands under the guise of administrative reform.

2. Loss of the “Waqf by User” Tradition

The removal of the “Waqf by user” provision is another major blow. In Islamic tradition, properties used continuously for religious or charitable purposes—such as a plot where a community has prayed for generations—could be recognized as Waqf, even without a formal deed. This flexibility preserved countless heritage sites across India, from ancient mosques to community shelters.

The 2025 bill eliminates this practice, mandating documented proof of ownership and intent. While pre-existing “Waqf by user” properties registered before the bill’s enactment are grandfathered in, any future claims must meet stringent bureaucratic standards. This loss threatens undocumented Waqf sites, leaving them vulnerable to disputes or government acquisition. For many Muslims, this feels like an erasure of their historical and spiritual legacy.

3. Loss of Religious Representation

The inclusion of non-Muslims in the Central Waqf Council and state Waqf Boards has sparked outrage. Under the original 1995 Act, these bodies were exclusively Muslim, reflecting the religious nature of Waqf as an Islamic endowment. The 2025 amendment mandates the appointment of non-Muslim members, arguing it promotes diversity and expertise.

However, this change is seen as a loss of religious representation. Muslims question why a secular government should dictate the composition of bodies managing their sacred properties. They point out that Hindu temple boards or Sikh gurdwara committees rarely include non-members of their respective faiths. This perceived double standard fuels regret, with many feeling their constitutional right to manage religious affairs—guaranteed under Article 26—is being undermined.

4. Loss of Legal Finality

Previously, Waqf Tribunals—specialized bodies with expertise in Muslim law—had the final say in property disputes, with appeals limited to High Courts in exceptional cases. The 2025 bill revokes this finality, allowing appeals against Tribunal decisions to be filed directly in High Courts within 90 days. Additionally, the Tribunal’s composition now excludes experts in Muslim law, replacing them with district judges and senior bureaucrats.

This shift is a loss of specialized adjudication. Critics argue it dilutes the Tribunals’ ability to interpret Waqf disputes through the lens of Islamic jurisprudence, subjecting them instead to secular legal frameworks that may not fully grasp the nuances of Waqf law. The result? Prolonged litigation and uncertainty for Waqf properties, many of which are already mired in over 21,000 pending encroachment cases.

5. Loss of Educational and Welfare Funding

Waqf properties have long supported Muslim education and welfare, funding madrasas, schools, and community initiatives. The 2025 bill’s centralization of authority and budget cuts to schemes like the Quami Waqf Board Taraqqiati Scheme and Shahari Waqf Sampatti Vikas Yojana have raised alarms. With financial assistance dwindling—such as the Scheme for Providing Education in Madrassas/Minorities losing central funding since 2021–22—many institutions face closure or reduced capacity.

This loss hits the poorest sections of the Muslim community hardest, particularly Pasmanda (backward) Muslims who rely on Waqf-supported education. The regret here is palpable: a system meant to uplift the community now feels like it’s being dismantled under the pretext of reform.

Why Muslims Regret the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025

The losses outlined above fuel a deep sense of regret among Muslims. This regret isn’t just about property or administration—it’s about identity, trust, and the fear of marginalization. Let’s explore the reasons behind this sentiment.

1. Perceived Attack on Religious Freedom

For many Muslims, the bill feels like a direct assault on their religious freedom. Waqf is more than just property; it’s a sacred act of charity rooted in Islamic tradition. By imposing secular oversight and non-Muslim representation, the government is seen as meddling in a domain that should remain under community control. This regret is compounded by the requirement that only those practicing Islam for five years can dedicate Waqf—a rule critics call arbitrary and intrusive, questioning who gets to define “practice.”

2. Erosion of Trust in the Government

The regret also stems from a growing distrust of the government’s intentions. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led administration, which pushed the bill, has faced accusations of pursuing a Hindu nationalist agenda. Past actions—like the Citizenship Amendment Act and the abrogation of Article 370—have left Muslims wary. The Waqf bill, with its potential to weaken community control over valuable assets (estimated at over 8.72 lakh properties spanning 38 lakh acres), reinforces fears of systemic disenfranchisement.

3. Fear of Property Seizure

A major source of regret is the fear that the bill paves the way for Waqf property seizures. With district collectors empowered to rule on ownership disputes, and government properties identified as Waqf stripped of that status, many Muslims worry their lands could be reclassified or encroached upon. High-profile cases, like the 123 Waqf properties in Delhi transferred during the UPA era and now under scrutiny, amplify this anxiety. The regret here is visceral: what was once a permanent endowment for God and community now feels precarious.

4. Political Polarization and Social Division

The bill’s passage after a heated parliamentary debate—288 votes in favor and 232 against in the Lok Sabha, followed by 128–95 in the Rajya Sabha—highlighted deep political divides. Opposition leaders, including Rahul Gandhi and Asaduddin Owaisi, called it “unconstitutional” and a “weapon aimed at marginalizing Muslims.” The regret among Muslims is partly rooted in this polarization, with many feeling targeted by a government they believe uses such laws to appease its voter base rather than foster unity.

5. Uncertainty Over Implementation

Finally, there’s regret over the uncertainty of how the bill will play out. While the government promises transparency and empowerment, the lack of clarity on implementation—coupled with the Supreme Court challenge by AIMIM and Congress—leaves Muslims apprehensive. Will audits and digital registration protect Waqf assets, or burden small institutions with red tape? Will non-Muslim board members respect community priorities? These unknowns deepen the sense of loss and regret.

The Broader Implications: What’s at Stake?

The Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, isn’t just about property management—it’s a lightning rod for broader questions of identity, governance, and coexistence in India. With Waqf properties valued at over $14 billion, their control carries economic weight. But beyond that, they embody a cultural and spiritual legacy for India’s 200 million Muslims, the country’s largest minority.

The losses—autonomy, tradition, representation—strike at the heart of this legacy, while the regret reflects a community grappling with its place in a changing nation. The government insists the bill aligns with its “Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikas” (Together with All, Development for All) vision, but for many Muslims, it feels more like exclusion than inclusion.

Voices of Regret: What Muslims Are Saying

Across India, Muslim leaders and ordinary citizens have voiced their dismay. The All India Muslim Personal Law Board (AIMPLB) has called the bill “detrimental,” organizing protests in cities like Delhi and Patna. Maulana Khalid Rashid Farangi Mahali, a senior AIMPLB member, warned that it “weakens Waqf laws and paves the way for seizure.” On the ground, individuals like Ayesha Begum, a teacher at a Waqf-funded madrasa, lament, “Our children’s future is tied to these properties—now it’s all uncertain.”

The Road Ahead: Can Regret Turn to Resolution?

As the bill faces legal scrutiny in the Supreme Court, its fate remains uncertain. For Muslims, the regret is real, but so is the resilience. Community leaders are mobilizing, legal battles are brewing, and dialogues continue. Whether the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, becomes a permanent loss or a catalyst for negotiation depends on what happens next.

Conclusion: A Complex Legacy in Flux

The Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, is a paradox—a reform hailed by some as progress, yet mourned by others as a profound loss. For Muslims, the regret stems from a sense of disempowerment, a fear of losing control over what’s sacred, and a longing for the autonomy they once had. As India navigates this contentious chapter, the challenge lies in balancing administrative efficiency with cultural sensitivity. Only time will tell if the losses can be mitigated or if the regret will linger.

What do you think? Is the bill a necessary modernization, or does it cross a line? Share your thoughts below—we’d love to hear your perspective on this evolving story.