If restrictions are necessary, they must apply equally to all. If accommodations are permissible, equal citizenship demands that such accommodations be available without discrimination. The question is not whether public inconvenience should be addressed, but whether similar standards are applied uniformly across all religious communities.
Mohammad Kafeel Qasmi
If there is one principle that lies at the heart of Indian democracy, it is the idea of equal citizenship and equal rights. The Constitution of India guarantees equality to every citizen irrespective of religion, language, ethnicity, or cultural identity. Yet history repeatedly reminds us that when the state or political leadership begins to single out the religious practices of a particular community for sustained public scrutiny, the matter often transcends administrative concerns and enters the realm of political symbolism and psychological messaging.
The recurring debate surrounding prayers on roads in Uttar Pradesh appears increasingly to belong to this category. Over the past several years, the issue has been repeatedly invoked by the state’s political leadership in a manner that raises important questions. The language employed, the warnings issued, and the persistent public emphasis placed upon it invite a deeper inquiry: is this genuinely an issue of law and order, or does it reflect a broader political strategy rooted in majoritarian anxieties and identity politics?
There is no shadow of doubt that Muslims, in general, neither habitually offer prayers on public roads nor regard it as an ideal practice. The mosque remains the natural and preferred place for congregational worship. However, during occasions such as Friday prayers, Eid congregations, or funeral prayers, when attendance exceeds the physical capacity of mosques, rows of worshippers may occasionally extend into adjoining spaces or nearby roads. Such situations arise not from ideological preference but from practical compulsion.
Nor is this phenomenon unique to Muslims. Across India, religious processions, festivals, community gatherings, and temporary devotional activities associated with various faith traditions frequently affect public roads and traffic movement. In many cities, roads are diverted, administrative arrangements are made, and such disruptions are treated as manageable civic necessities rather than existential public concerns. The question, therefore, is not whether public inconvenience should be addressed, but whether similar standards are applied uniformly.
Once this question is posed, the matter ceases to be merely administrative and becomes constitutional and political.
Political theory teaches us that power does not operate solely through laws and institutions; it also functions through symbols, narratives, and psychological signals. Governments and political movements often amplify certain issues not because of their intrinsic practical significance, but because of the symbolic value they carry for particular constituencies. The repeated politicisation of a few minutes of prayer on roads must be examined within this wider framework.
If public convenience and traffic regulation are indeed the central concern, then the principle governing them must be universal and impartial. The essence of the rule of law lies precisely in its neutrality toward religious identity. Yet social reality often presents a more complicated picture.
Religious processions, festival gatherings, roadside community kitchens, and large congregational events associated with majority traditions frequently occupy public spaces and affect urban mobility. Administrative agencies typically facilitate such occasions through security arrangements and traffic diversions, recognising them as part of the country’s social and cultural life. Why, then, does comparable sensitivity emerge with particular intensity when the issue concerns Muslim prayers? If restrictions are necessary, they must apply equally to all. If accommodations are permissible, then equal citizenship demands that such accommodations be available without discrimination.
Unfortunately, a section of Muslim religious discourse also narrows this debate by reducing it entirely to questions of jurisprudence. Discussions quickly shift toward whether praying on roads is permissible, undesirable, or religiously discouraged. While these are legitimate theological questions, confining the controversy exclusively within a juristic framework risks overlooking its broader political dimensions.
The deeper issue is not the legality of a few rows extending beyond mosque premises. Rather, it concerns a political culture that repeatedly transforms the limited and occasional practices of one community into public spectacles serving larger ideological purposes. When the interpretation and application of law begin to vary according to religious identity, constitutional equality risks becoming little more than a formal promise.
Political nationalism, particularly in its majoritarian form, often sustains itself by constructing symbolic markers of difference. It requires recurring images through which collective anxieties may be mobilised and reinforced. In the Indian context, Muslims—owing to their distinct historical, cultural, and religious presence—are frequently positioned within this symbolic framework. Whether the subject is the call to prayer, religious attire, educational institutions, mosques, or prayers on roads, these issues rarely remain administrative in public discourse; they evolve into political symbols carrying psychological and electoral significance.
The most troubling consequence of this politics is the gradual emergence of a feeling of second-class citizenship among minorities. When citizens repeatedly encounter suspicion and exceptional scrutiny directed toward their religious or cultural expressions—while similar practices by the majority are framed as heritage or tradition—confidence in the neutrality of the state inevitably weakens. Democracy is not merely an electoral mechanism; it is also a moral compact founded upon mutual trust and equal belonging. Once that trust begins to erode, constitutional guarantees alone cannot sustain democratic confidence.
This critique is not directed against any religion or cultural tradition. Public order, traffic regulation, and civic convenience are unquestionably legitimate concerns in any modern society. But such concerns must be addressed through equal laws and impartial governance, not through selective enforcement or politically charged rhetoric.
For Muslim intellectuals and religious leadership, the challenge is equally significant. The issue should not remain confined within defensive theological debates alone. It must also be understood within the larger context of how religious symbols are deployed in contemporary politics to signal power and reinforce hierarchies. If every controversy is answered only through jurisprudential argument, the central political question risks disappearing from view.
Ultimately, the issue is not about a few rows of worshippers on the road for a few minutes of prayer. It is about preserving the constitutional promise of equal citizenship and resisting any political culture that seeks to make a community feel that its religious presence exists perpetually under suspicion and conditional acceptance.
The writer is an Islamic scholar, columnist and academic strategist
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