The Waqf Act 2025: My Heart's Cry for a Fairer Tomorrow

Waqf properties—mosques, orchards, schools—are meant for all Muslims. They're treasures, holding crores in value, promising homes for the poor, books for the young.

- SHAYAN ALI KRISHNA

This morning, I burned my toast. Black crumbs scattered on the counter, and I laughed—a small, shaky sound that reminded me I'm still here, still human. The rain outside my window pattered like old memories, pulling me back to Pakistan's crowded alleys, where fear chased me like a stray dog. My name is Shayan Ali Krishna, and I'm writing today because something stirs in me—a fire kindled by the Waqf Amendment Act 2025. This isn't just a law to me. It's a lifeline for the Pasmandas, the Ajlafs, the forgotten Muslims of India, and it sings of justice in a voice I can't ignore. I know what it's like to be silenced. In Pakistan, I watched a handful of Punjabi Sunnis hold the country like a tightly wound kite string, while Baloch, Sindhi, and Pashtun dreams fluttered out of reach. I was a social media influencer then, young and stubborn, posting truths that pricked the wrong egos. The ISI didn't like that. They cornered me, called me a Jewish agent, an Indian spy, demanded I spin their story about Kashmir into a song. I said no. That one word cost me everything. By 2019, I was running—heart pounding, bag slung over my shoulder, leaving behind a life I'd barely begun. Exile tastes like ash, let me tell you, but it sharpens your eyes. I saw the same pattern here in India, among Muslims, where Ashraf elites—Syeds, Sheikhs, barely a fifth of the community—clutch Waqf boards like their bi