Sajida A Zubair
DIFFERENT cities. Different women. One symbol, the burqa. In Karnataka’s Bengaluru, a young Muslim girl in a burqa sits on a motorbike with her classmate. The sight is enough for a group of self-proclaimed virtue guardians to encircle her. They hurl accusations, interrogate her for being with a Hindu boy, demand her family’s contact details, and allegedly intimidate and assault the boy. She is not protected by her modest attire, she is punished for it.
In Uttar Pradesh’s Muzaffarnagar, another burqa-clad woman is publicly cornered. This time, her hijab is violently yanked off. The man accompanying her is assaulted. And the act is recorded and circulated like a trophy of moral correction. What’s being exposed in that moment is not her character; it is our collective failure to uphold dignity.
In Tavarekere in Karnataka’s Davangere, yet another horrifying case. After a domestic dispute, a woman is summoned to the local Jama Masjid, an institution meant to be a place of peace and justice. But instead of reconciliation, she is beaten with sticks and pipes in broad daylight by a group of Muslim men. The moral compass is not just broken here, it’s weaponised.
In today’s socio-political atmosphere, India’s Muslim population has come under increased scrutiny. A total of more than 70% of the hate crimes reported were against Muslims, with these crimes frequently being triggered by unsubstantiated claims or communal suspicions, states the 2023 India Hate Crime Watch report. At the same time, legislation like the CAA-NRC and heightened surveillance of Waqf properties have instilled a general feeling of fear and marginalisation. In such a climate, even solitary acts of wrongdoing, particularly those blown out of proportion by social media, are employed to tarnish the entire community. Not only does this collective labelling fuel discrimination, but it also disarms the community’s struggle for justice and dignity. Thus, it is necessary for Muslims from all over India to behave with prudence and restraint so that their actions are a true reflection of Islamic values and civic responsibility. One misstep by a few can undo decades of struggle by many.
While the community today is justifiably protesting state policies like the Waqf Act and raising voices against the institutional targeting of Muslims, it is just as important, perhaps more so, to pause and introspect. What moral authority can we claim outside if inside we are allowing women to be stripped, beaten, and shamed in the name of Islam?
Islam does teach us to enjoin good and forbid evil. The Qur’an says: “You are the best nation produced [as an example] for mankind. You enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong…” (3:110)
But intention matters. Method matters. Context matters.
The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) never scolded a sinner in front of others. He never dragged someone into public shame. Even when people were clearly in the wrong, he advised them gently, privately, and with immense respect. He said: “Verily, Allah is gentle and loves gentleness in all matters.” (Sahih al-Bukhari)
Where is that gentleness in these viral videos of hijabs being pulled off and women being beaten in the open?
One of the most powerful yet forgotten aspects of Islamic character is the act of satr, concealing others’ faults. The Prophet (pbuh) said: “Whoever covers the disgrace of a Muslim, Allah will cover his disgrace in this world and in the Hereafter.”
The Arabic word ‘aib’ means defect, shortcoming, or that which a person does not want exposed. Islam encourages covering it, not broadcasting it. It instructs believers to protect each other’s dignity, to advise with love, and to avoid slander or humiliation, whether in person or online.
In our digitally amplified world, the camera has become a sword. The ‘share’ button is now a tool of shame. Instead of offering private counsel or compassion, we’re recording, posting, and forwarding someone’s lowest moments as if it’s public property.
This is not da’wah. This is damage.
It is heartbreaking to see how those who claim to guard Islamic values have forgotten the values themselves. One cannot defend modesty by violating someone’s dignity. One cannot protect a community while publicly harming its women. One cannot claim religious correction when your actions are in direct conflict with the very scripture you cite.
It’s time for the Muslim community to draw a firm line between genuine religious concern and performative moral policing. To stop mistaking shame for Shariah. And most importantly, to recognise that no act done in the name of Islam is valid if it breaks the very ethics that Islam stands for.
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Sajida A Zubair is an educator and mentor with the International Partnership of Education Research and Communication (IPERC). The views expressed here are the author’s own, and Clarion India does not necessarily subscribe to them.
