Hazratbal Shrine Caught in Political Firestorm
I Ahmed Wani
On September 5, 2025, a foundation plaque at Srinagar’s revered Hazratbal Shrine, unveiled by the Jammu and Kashmir Waqf Board, was vandalized. Bearing India’s national emblem, the plaque was intended to commemorate renovation work at this sacred site, home to the holy relic of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). Instead, it triggered a firestorm, transforming a spiritual haven into a battleground of faith, identity, and politics. The incident lays bare Kashmir’s fragile fault lines and underscores the urgent need for dialogue over division.
Nestled on the serene banks of Dal Lake, Hazratbal is more than a shrine—it’s the spiritual heartbeat of Kashmiri Islam. Drawing lakhs of devotees for Eid-e-Milad and other observances, its sanctity is woven into the Valley’s cultural and economic fabric. Any symbolism here, especially one involving a national symbol like the Ashoka Lion, demands profound sensitivity. The Waqf Board, led by BJP-appointed chairperson Dr. Darakhsha Andrabi, misstepped. By engraving the national emblem on the plaque, the Board framed the shrine’s renovation as a state-driven act of integration. To many worshippers, it felt like an intrusion into sacred space. Some went further, denouncing it as idolatrous, citing Islam’s aversion to figurative imagery.
On Eid-e-Milad, devotion turned to defiance. Worshippers defaced the plaque, chanting slogans, their anger rippling across social media. X posts captured the raw emotion: @KashmirVoice declared, “Hazratbal is our soul. Why impose emblems that clash with our faith? #RespectOurShrines.” @ValleyTruth added, “This isn’t development—it’s control. Waqf Board must answer.” A local dispute over design snowballed into a national controversy, with videos of the vandalism fueling outrage and counter-narratives.
The political response turned the incident into a spectacle. Dr. Andrabi labeled the vandalism a “terrorist attack” on the Constitution, calling for detentions under the Public Safety Act. Her X post—“Desecrating our national emblem is an attack on India’s sovereignty. Justice will be served!”—ignored religious sensitivities, deepening alienation. Chief Minister Omar Abdullah opted for restraint, questioning the emblem’s placement: “I’ve never seen it in a mosque. The Waqf Board should apologize.” His X post (@OmarAbdullah: “Let’s respect faith and resolve this quietly”) drew flak for being too timid. Mehbooba Mufti of the PDP leaned into the outrage, calling the plaque a “provocation” and demanding action against the Waqf Board under IPC 295-A for blasphemy. Her X post—“Worshippers acted out of love for their faith. Waqf Board’s arrogance is to blame!”—resonated with devotees but excused mob action, risking further division.
Set against the backdrop of post-Article 370 Kashmir, this clash shows how symbols can ignite conflict. The national emblem, a badge of pride elsewhere, is seen by some in the Valley as state overreach. Yet vandalism is no answer—it’s unlawful, defying the civic order upheld by Islamic tradition. The Qur’an (4:59) instructs, “O you who believe, obey Allah, obey the Messenger and those in authority among you,” emphasizing social order as part of public morality. Muslim-majority nations illustrate this balance:
Global Parallels:
Indonesia: On Independence Day, Jakarta’s Istiqlal Mosque hosts formal upacara bendera within its complex. In Surabaya, Merah-Putih flags fly from mosque towers, blending faith and civic pride with respect.
Malaysia: During National Month (August–September), mosques join Kibar Jalur Gemilang drives, raising flags and hosting patriotic activities, embodying harmony.
Kazakhstan: The Astana Grand Mosque weaves national colors into its design, aligning religious architecture with civic identity.
Saudi Arabia: The Saudi flag, bearing the Shahada, is revered under strict guidelines, displayed prominently on National Day with dignity.
United States: Churches display the Stars and Stripes inside sanctuaries under federal flag code, reconciling faith and nation through clear rules.
These examples show civic and religious symbols can coexist when guided by mutual respect and clear protocols. India regulates its national emblem through statute, ensuring disputes over its use are settled institutionally, not by mobs. Vandalism invites penal consequences; the lawful path lies in administrative or judicial review.
X posts from Kashmir reflect this tension but also point to solutions. @SrinagarPulse wrote, “National emblem in a mosque? Waqf Board didn’t think this through. But vandalism isn’t our way.” @KashmiriSoul noted, “Jakarta and Riyadh show flags and faith can coexist. Why not here?” These voices, often drowned out, call for balance.
The Waqf Board erred by bypassing consultation with ulema or devotees. Worshippers erred by choosing vandalism over legal recourse. Politicians erred by amplifying division for political gain. The result? A sacred space desecrated, a civic symbol disrespected, and trust eroded.
Kashmir deserves better. The Waqf Board should apologize for its oversight and engage religious scholars to rebuild trust. Devotees must channel grievances through courts, not crowds. Leaders like Andrabi, Abdullah, and Mufti must prioritize dialogue over rhetoric. As @PeaceInValley posted on X, “Hazratbal is for prayer, not politics. Let’s heal, not hurt.”
Hazratbal is Kashmir’s spiritual and economic lifeline, sustaining pilgrims and tourism. Its sanctity must be preserved, not pawned in symbolic battles. The national emblem isn’t “anti-faith”—it’s a shared identity when handled with care. From Jakarta to Riyadh, nations prove this balance is possible. Kashmir can too, but only with humility, respect, and restraint. The vandalism was wrong. The political exploitation was reckless. The path forward is clear: reverence for faith, dignity for symbols, and a politics of peace, not provocation.
