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By:

Vivek Bhavsar

23 March 2026 at 3:25:17 am

Focus back on Pasmanda Muslim leadership

Mumbai: Shabbir Ansari is gone. But in his passing, a question has resurfaced — why did mainstream India ignore Pasmanda Muslim leadership for decades? Post-independence politics in India made a convenient assumption — that the Muslim community is homogeneous, with uniform issues and a singular leadership. This was a fundamental mistake. In reality, the Muslim community, like any other in India, is deeply stratified — marked by caste hierarchies, economic inequality, and social exclusion....

Focus back on Pasmanda Muslim leadership

Mumbai: Shabbir Ansari is gone. But in his passing, a question has resurfaced — why did mainstream India ignore Pasmanda Muslim leadership for decades? Post-independence politics in India made a convenient assumption — that the Muslim community is homogeneous, with uniform issues and a singular leadership. This was a fundamental mistake. In reality, the Muslim community, like any other in India, is deeply stratified — marked by caste hierarchies, economic inequality, and social exclusion. Yet, this reality was rarely acknowledged in political discourse. “Pasmanda” refers to those left behind. Within India’s Muslim population are numerous marginalized communities — Julaha, Ansari, Pinjari, Nadaf, Kasab, Momin, Fakir, Mehtar, among others — who have historically remained excluded from education, employment, and political representation. They had no dedicated policies, no visible leadership, and almost no presence in mainstream narratives. Uncomfortable Issues It is in this context that Shabbir Ansari’s contribution becomes significant. He was not merely a leader, but a field researcher, an organiser, and a social mobiliser. He travelled extensively across villages, documenting communities — their caste identities, occupations, and social positions. He identified nearly 60–70 backward Muslim communities and worked to bring them into a shared political consciousness. What is today referred to as the Pasmanda discourse was, in many ways, built through such grassroots efforts. The implementation of the Mandal Commission in the 1990s reshaped India’s social justice framework, but Muslim communities were initially left out. In Maharashtra, in 1994, during the tenure of then Chief Minister Sharad Pawar, Muslim OBCs were brought within the Mandal framework. This was not just a bureaucratic decision; it was the outcome of sustained grassroots mobilisation led by leaders like Shabbir Ansari. The impact was significant — access to education and public employment expanded for thousands of youth from backward Muslim communities. The 2006 Sachar Committee report acknowledged the socio-economic backwardness of Muslims in India and pointed to internal diversity within the community. Yet, even after Sachar, public discourse continued to treat Muslims as a single category. The internal stratification — especially caste-based marginalisation — remained underexplored. Recognising the Pasmanda question complicates politics. It raises uncomfortable issues about caste within Muslims, redistribution of representation, and restructuring of social justice frameworks. Instead of engaging with this complexity, politics chose simplification — treating Muslims as a single electoral bloc. This brings us to a difficult question: why was Shabbir Ansari not recognised at the national level? A man who built networks, mobilised communities, and influenced policy received neither national honours nor sustained visibility. This cannot be dismissed as an oversight. It reflects a deeper pattern of institutional neglect. Despite his contributions, Shabbir Ansari lived a modest life, without seeking power, wealth, or recognition. In India, such leadership often receives recognition only after it is too late. In recent years, the term “Pasmanda” has re-entered political discourse. But the key question remains — is this a genuine shift in understanding, or merely a strategic adaptation? Because addressing Pasmanda concerns requires more than rhetoric. It demands data-driven policy, sustained engagement, and political will. With Shabbir Ansari’s passing, three questions remain. Will Pasmanda leadership find independent political space? Will social justice frameworks extend meaningfully within Muslim communities? Or will this issue once again be reduced to electoral symbolism? Shabbir Ansari represents more than a life. He represents an unfinished project. The question now is simple — will India engage with that project seriously, or continue to ignore it?

Dangerous Departures

Updated: Oct 30, 2024

Dangerous Departures

In yet another shocking incident adding to Mumbai’s infamous tryst with stampedes, chaos erupted at Mumbai’s Bandra Terminus following a weekend stampede that left at least ten persons injured, two critically so. A crowd surged toward the Gorakhpur-bound train with nearly 1,500 people vying for seats in 22 unreserved compartments, leading to the stampede. Several others narrowly avoided tragedy, with some even pushed onto the tracks. This is not a unique episode but rather a recurring theme in Mumbai’s bedevilled crowd management, one that has haunted the city’s public spaces, particularly as festive seasons magnify the crowds.


Mumbai is no stranger to stampedes. A horrifying incident in 2017 at Elphinstone Road Station left 23 people dead and nearly 50 injured. The cause was a familiar one: an overwhelming crowd confined to a narrow footbridge during peak rush hour. The tragedy sparked an outcry, with promises from authorities to upgrade infrastructure and enhance safety protocols. Yet seven years on, crowd-related incidents continue to be a constant danger. Today’s incident reveals a similar lapse—a lack of foresight in managing the thousands who gather on platforms ahead of Diwali, eager to return to family. That the Gorakhpur Express was unreserved and heavily crowded was predictable.


The issue lies beyond simply crowd density; it is emblematic of deeper systemic negligence. The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC), responsible for local public safety, along with the Railways Ministry, bear responsibility for ensuring order at such high-risk hubs. Although the BMC acknowledged the “festive rush,” it appears little was done to pre-empt it. Swift action could have been taken to either disperse the crowd or reroute passengers. Instead, chaos prevailed.


Political reaction has been swift but uninspiring. Aaditya Thackeray, son of Uddhav Thackeray, launched a scathing attack on the Union Railways Minister, Ashwini Vaishnaw, branding the incident a result of the minister’s “incapable” leadership. This hardly addresses the immediate need: a substantive plan to manage crowds and prevent similar incidents.


Mumbai’s transport infrastructure remains sorely outdated. Platforms are undersized, signalling systems frequently falter, and crowd control mechanisms are grossly inadequate. Despite repeated accidents, there has been little investment in comprehensive crowd management systems or the deployment of personnel trained in emergency response. While railway footbridges were widened after the Elphinstone tragedy, Bandra’s incident demonstrates that such incremental changes are insufficient. Mumbai, which sees a swelling populace during festivals, demands a robust strategy to address its vulnerabilities. This should include technology-driven crowd monitoring, clear communication channels to inform passengers of platform conditions, and additional security and medical staff on high-demand days. It is essential that crowd management training for personnel becomes a priority rather than a reaction to tragedies.

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