Syed Ubaidur Rahman’s History of Waqf in India is already generating considerable buzz and enjoying wide readership
THE Waqf Amendment Act of 2025 has thrown the Muslim community into a state of deep unease. It would be wishful thinking to expect the average citizen to fully grasp the labyrinthine intricacies of law and Islamic jurisprudence. Yet, what’s most disconcerting is the glaring lack of awareness — even among the educated elite — about an issue of such Himalayan importance.
During this confusion, the timely publication of History of Waqf in India by Syed Ubaidur Rahman comes as a breath of fresh air, a scholarly intervention that couldn’t have arrived at a better moment.
Syed Ubaidur Rahman, the Director of the Centre for History and Heritage, Delhi, has made a name for himself among students and researchers of history, both in India and beyond. His online courses attract knowledge-seekers from across the globe. A few years ago, deeply troubled by the distortion of historical narratives, he took it upon himself to retell the true story of Muslims in India. In just four years, he has authored five significant works in English, each shedding new light on overlooked or misrepresented facets of Muslim history. His most recent offering on Waqf is already generating considerable buzz and enjoying wide readership.
Waqf, an Islamic institution of endowment, has long been a cornerstone of both religious and social life. Rooted in Islamic law, waqf has been an important support for community welfare, education, and public services across the Muslim World. In the Indian subcontinent, the tradition of waqf dates back over a millennium — beginning with the arrival of Muslims in Kerala. Over the centuries, it evolved into a systematic and coherent framework, becoming arguably the oldest organised form of philanthropy in human history.
Today, India is home to millions of waqf properties, spread across approximately 3.8 million acres — split almost equally between urban and rural areas. Their cumulative value runs into trillions of rupees. Yet, serious questions abound: how many of these properties have been sold off by unscrupulous trustees? How many are under illegal occupation? How many lie effectively under the stranglehold of government control? Each state has its own Waqf Board, while the Central Waqf Council plays a supervisory role. In total, 32 waqf boards operate across 23 states and 7 union territories. However, the rot runs deep—corruption, political meddling, and legal quagmires have often turned these institutions into paper tigers.
The first chapter of the book takes the reader back to the very roots of endowments, tracing the evolution of waqf jurisprudence in the first four centuries after the Hijra. It delves into definitions and principles across major Islamic schools of thought in both Asia and Africa. What is a waqf? Who has the right to create one? What conditions must be met? The book explains the nuances of many Islamic terms. Permanence and irrevocability are key principles enshrined by Islamic jurists. The Arabic word for waqf means “to stop” or “to set aside” — and in essence, it refers to the dedication of property to God, its benefits meant to outlive the giver and flow to generations to come. Once a waqf is made, the property is no longer seen as human-owned — it is locked away from private gain forever.
Chapter two dives into the rich tapestry of waqf history in the Indian subcontinent, beginning with the Delhi Sultanate. The institution thrived under the Khilji, Tughlaq, and Lodhi rules, and truly blossomed under the Mughals. From Akbar to Aurangzeb, waqf became the backbone for managing madrasas, mosques, dargahs, imambaras, cemeteries, caravanserais, and hospitals. This was not just the endeavour of kings and nobles — ordinary Muslims too gave with open hands. Akbar emphasised clean governance of waqf and made efforts to safeguard it from misuse. The book also charts waqf history in regional sultanates such as Bengal, Bahmani, Malwa, Gujarat, and Khandesh.
Chapter three explores Waqf Alal Awlad, or family endowments, which have held unique significance in India. Though the primary beneficiaries are family members, the ultimate intention is sadaqah jariyah — a perpetual charitable reward. These endowments have helped countless families achieve financial stability, while also dedicating a portion to public welfare. Under British rule, family waqfs hit legal roadblocks, prompting Sir Syed Ahmed Khan to fight tooth and nail for their recognition. His efforts bore fruit in 1913 with the Muslim Waqf Validating Act, but the colonial administration had already inflicted significant damage, bringing many waqfs under state or private control. Subsequent legal developments in 1923 and 1930 further expanded the framework of waqf.
The fourth chapter offers a panoramic view of waqf administration across time. During the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal periods, trustees and qazis oversaw waqf affairs, forming a well-organised structure. Under the British, however, the institution was caught in the crossfire between religious and secular laws. Post-independence, the 1954 Waqf Act centralised waqf governance, with further reforms in 1995 and critical amendments in 2013 aimed at enhancing transparency and protection of waqf assets.
The final chapter takes up the burning issue of the Waqf Amendment Act 2025. The community views the law as a brazen infringement on religious freedom and collective rights. Protest erupted across the country, and to their credit, Muslim leaders rallied significant support — MPs from nearly every opposition party voiced strong objections. Despite this, the law was passed in Parliament. Its constitutional validity is now being put to test in the Supreme Court. Among the most controversial changes are increased government control, the involvement of non-Muslims in waqf administration, and the abolition of ‘waqf by user’ — all of which have set alarm bells ringing. This act has discriminating features compared to the rules of non- Muslim endowments.
One morning, over a cup of tea, this writer found himself pondering the crisis. “Who is to blame for this pathetic condition of the waqf system?” He asked. “We ourselves” was the quick but unsatisfying reply. With a sigh, he set down his cup and took a moment to breathe deeply. A crow on the window grill cawed hoarsely, as if to say, “Weakness is a crime, and its punishment is the surprising death!” As the blood containing fresh oxygen reached the writer’s brain, clearer thoughts emerged: when a community loses its resolve, when its systems decay and when apathy becomes an accepted norm, such decline is inevitable. Legal land grabs are happening the world over — and here, your adversary is active and ready. Will you continue to take comfort in merely narrating tales of your oppression? The community was given ample time to safeguard its endowments — but it squandered. Now is the time to face the mirror. Internal reforms are the need of the hour.
Noted constitutional expert Faizan Mustafa believes that Ubaidur Rahman’s book will be indispensable for students of law and history. Prof Nandini Chatterjee of Oxford University has also lauded the work, describing waqf as a valuable civilisational asset of India.
Given the current climate, this book is not just relevant — it is essential. Though the hardcover edition comes at a higher price, the depth of research and clarity of thought make it well worth every rupee. It deserves to be read, discussed, and — above all — appreciated.
