In a quiet home in Pakistan, a 75-year-old woman sits by the
window, her memories drifting back to the narrow alleys of Lucknow where she
spent her youth. As tears gather in her eyes, she recounts a painful memory—how
during the recent Indo-Pak conflict, Indian police stormed her sister’s home in
Lucknow without a warrant, based solely on a false claim that she had arrived
from Pakistan.
The questioning was relentless: When did she come? Why
did she come? Isn’t she here now? Despite being told that she hadn’t
visited in a decade, the harassment didn’t stop. Her family was subjected to
accusations of treason, threats, and verbal abuse—simply for having ties to
Pakistan.
But this, she says, is not just her story. It is the lived
reality of countless Muslims in India today—citizens by birth, yet made to feel
like outsiders. Her brother, a highly educated professor and PhD graduate from
the prestigious Aligarh Muslim University, spent a lifetime proving his
loyalty. He was pressured to denounce Pakistan, glorify India, and erase parts
of his identity. Eventually, at 52, broken in spirit, he left the country of
his birth—a country that never truly accepted him.
This, say many in Pakistan, is the condition Indian Muslims
are forced to endure daily. From neighborhoods to newsrooms, from film sets to
classrooms, they are constantly reminded of their “difference.” Their ancestors
once contributed to India’s heritage—ruling empires, shaping language, and
enriching literature—yet today they must furnish loyalty certificates just to
live in peace.
This painful reality, say observers, reaffirms the truth of
the Two-Nation Theory—the foundational principle of Pakistan’s creation. The
theory, often dismissed by critics as political opportunism, is seen by many as
a recognition that Muslims are a distinct nation, with a unique religion,
culture, and heritage. And when that identity is threatened, a nation must
choose between erasure and emancipation. Pakistan, they argue, is the result of
that choice.
Even prominent Indian Muslims—actors, scholars, and
professionals—are not spared. Shah Rukh Khan, one of Bollywood’s biggest stars,
has had to publicly justify his family’s religious practices. Aamir Khan was
branded “anti-national” for merely expressing concern over growing intolerance.
Islamic scholar Dr. Zakir Naik now lives in exile, banned from India. Their
fame and contributions have not protected them from suspicion.
Meanwhile, ordinary Muslims face even harsher realities.
Lynched on mere suspicion of eating beef. Killed without trial. Names like
Akhlaq Ahmed, Pehlu Khan, and Tabrez Ansari haunt India’s collective
conscience, their families left to grieve in silence.
The recent May 2025 Indo-Pak war only deepened the divide.
In India, Muslims were branded traitors, Pakistani agents, and were told to
“prove their loyalty—or leave.” Mosques were attacked, Muslim neighborhoods
isolated, and mass arrests carried out—all in the name of democracy.
Against this backdrop, many in Pakistan are urging a renewed
appreciation of their homeland. Pakistan, they say, is not just a piece of
land—it is an identity, a freedom hard-won, a sanctuary built through immense sacrifice.
They call on parents and educators to teach not just how Pakistan came
into being, but why it had to be formed.
For the fearful Muslim families still living in the shadows
across the border, there is a hope—that one day, they too will breathe the free
air of a country where their identity is not a liability but a legacy.
“Pakistan is not a dream,” says one voice. “It is a
priceless gift. It is ours—and will always be.”
This article is based on a column written by Mohammad Irfan
Siddiqui, originally published in Daily Jang on June 1, 2025 click to read the original column in Urdu HERE. The content has been
adapted for clarity and readability while preserving the original narrative.
