I’d like to ask this with genuine curiosity and a sincere desire to understand diverse perspectives — not to provoke, insult, or spark unnecessary debate.
I find it fascinating how cultural and historical backgrounds often shape certain patterns of behavior. For instance, some communities have traditionally emphasized higher education across generations, others have shown a natural affinity for business, politics, or even martial roles. These tendencies seem to emerge from long-standing social, economic, and cultural influences.
I’d love to hear your insights or reflections on this — especially from a historical or sociological point of view.
I have both oral and documented family history—from my paternal and maternal sides—clearly showing that we never converted from Hinduism. We also have gravesite records, property documents from both the British and Indian eras, and even DNA evidence to support our lineage. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter if we did convert from Hinduism. In Islam, what matters is not whether you’re born into the faith or embrace it later—what matters are your actions.
At some point, my paternal ancestors (yusufzai Pushtun from Afghanistan) must have converted from Buddhism, and my maternal (Arab) lineage converted from something. What’s certain is that our family migrated to India since at least the mid-1500s,
and possibly maybe as far back as the late 1400s.
So, we've lived side by side with Hindus for 450–500 years without conflict. There was mutual respect, shared hardships, and deep-rooted coexistence. The real fractures began only after Independence—first under Nehru’s policies, then intensified during Indira’s era, and were ultimately weaponized by the BJP.
Yet, to this day, the
local RSS continues to protect my great-grandfather’s mosque from attempts by the Maharashtra government to take it over—because the local
Hindu community regards the site as sacred. They still draw water from the well beside the mosque, believing it brings blessings—using it for newborns and for healing the sick.
We come from a lineage of soldiers, farmers, and scholars—people who had no choice but to join the British, and later the Indian, military, police, and civil services. This path wasn’t out of loyalty, but necessity. First, the British, and then the Nehru government, confiscated our ancestral lands, leaving us with few options for survival and dignity.
We never seized land from Hindus—our family was granted it in recognition of acts of valor and bravery. In fact, the legacy of my great-grandfather’s service in the Indian Police was significant enough to inspire two Bollywood films.
Originally, our family tilled barren land and cultivated cotton—an effort that sustained us until the British first ruined local agriculture, then revived cotton farming in India after the slave uprisings in America disrupted their supply. When famine struck, the land held little value, so it was donated as waqf for a mosque. Ironically, that same land—once given away during hardship—is now protected by the local RSS, because the community still sees it as sacred and part of their shared history.
The British confiscated half of our land to build a railway line—not as a favor to India, but purely to serve their own interests. The railway was designed to transport cotton from our (Maharashtra) region to the port in Mumbai, where it was shipped to the mills in Manchester. It was a colonial supply chain, not a development project.
Many members from both sides of my family chose not to migrate to Pakistan during Partition, because India had been their home for centuries while some did...
