Why Reclaiming Waqf Properties In Northeast Could Be Harder Than You Think 

The Waqf Amendment Bill is now an Act. Governments can now use it to remove illegal Waqf encroachments from public land. However, in Assam and the Northeast, many Waqf lands are virtually protected by mutual arrangements with occupants, which could make evictions difficult even in cases of encroachment.

Understanding Waqf and the need for reform

Waqf, a concept deeply rooted in Islamic law and tradition, refers to the endowment of property for religious or charitable purposes. Once declared Waqf, a property becomes inalienable—it cannot be sold, inherited, or transferred.

Typically, these properties are dedicated to supporting institutions like mosques, madrasas, orphanages, hospitals and other public welfare initiatives.

The institution of Waqf has existed in India since the medieval period, with thousands of properties spread across the country. However, over the years, their administration has been hindered by mismanagement, legal loopholes and corruption.

The administration of Waqf properties has historically suffered from poor record-keeping and inefficiency. These shortcomings have often resulted in properties being encroached upon, misused, or lost in legal limbo. The Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025 aims to address these issues by enhancing transparency, legal accountability, and efficient governance.

A central feature of the bill is the digitisation of Waqf property records. It mandates the creation of a centralised digital platform—the Waqf Management System of India (WAMSI)—to maintain and update property records. This step is designed to improve monitoring, ensure proper use, and prevent the unauthorised transfer or occupation of Waqf lands.

According to Home Minister Amit Shah, the total land of all Waqf Boards combined was at 18 lakh acres from 1913 to 2013. However from 2013 to 2025, an additional 21 lakh acres were added.

The most controversial aspect of Waqf property management has been disputes over ownership. In several cases, private individuals have discovered that their properties have been declared Waqf land, resulting in legal battles and public outcry. The most commonly cited example is from Tamil Nadu, where a farmer in Thiruchenthurai village was unable to sell his land because the Waqf Board claimed rights over the entire village. This was enabled by the draconian Section 40 which has now become history.

To prevent such incidents, the bill introduces stricter guidelines for declaring a property as Waqf. Authorities must now follow a more transparent process and provide documented evidence before registering properties under the Waqf category. This measure aims to reduce arbitrary declarations and protect individual property rights.

Waqf properties in India and in Northeast: the numbers story

As of mid-March 2025, India has around 8,72,000 registered Waqf properties covering more than 38 lakh acres of land. Of these, over 4,02,000 properties are listed as “Waqf by user,” which means they are identified based on traditional usage rather than formal registration.

Alarmingly, ownership documents have been uploaded for only 9,279 cases, and just 1,083 properties have corresponding Waqf deeds.

Uttar Pradesh, specifically under the Sunni Waqf Board, has the highest number of Waqf properties at approximately 2,17,000. Though exact land area figures are not available, this makes the state the largest Waqf property holder by number.

West Bengal follows with 80,480 properties, Punjab with 75,965, Tamil Nadu with 66,092, and Karnataka with 62,830 properties.

These numbers illustrate the vast scale of Waqf properties in India but also highlight the enormity of the administrative challenge in regulating and managing them effectively.

The scenario in the Northeastern region of India is notably different. According to data from the WAMSI portal, Assam has approximately 2,654 Waqf properties, followed by Tripura with 2,814, Manipur with 991, and Meghalaya with only 58.

Among these, only Assam has a significant Muslim population, slightly less than 40 percent. In contrast, both Manipur and Tripura have less than 10 percent Muslim population, while Meghalaya has less than 5 percent, predominantly consisting of Christian and tribal communities.

The existence of Waqf properties in such areas—where Muslim endowments are neither common nor culturally embedded—complicates the process of reclaiming or managing them under the new legislative framework.

How did Waqf properties came to be established in tribal-majority and Christian-majority states of Northeast India? What are their historical origins? And why can reclaiming them under the new legal framework may prove uniquely difficult?

A brief history

The foundation of Waqf properties in Assam and its adjoining areas is deeply connected to the political developments of the 1930s and 1940s.

In 1939, Syed Muhammad Saadulla of the All India Muslim League formed the government in Assam, then a vast province encompassing present-day Meghalaya and Nagaland, with the capital situated in Shillong.

Saadulla introduced sweeping land reforms through his “Grow More Food” campaign, which was aimed at boosting agricultural output. However, it also had a political subtext.

This policy, under the Line System, facilitated the settlement of Bengali-speaking Muslim migrants from East Bengal into the fertile tracts of Lower Assam and the Barak Valley. These settlers were given land rights as agricultural labourers, which over time altered the demographic balance in several regions.

The leadership of the Muslim League, which included Saadulla himself, increasingly tried to claim Assam as part of the proposed East Pakistan. Although Assam did not have a Muslim majority, its sizable Muslim population was used to justify its inclusion.

In the 1943 Karachi session of the Muslim League, General Secretary Liaquat Ali Khan categorically included Assam in the envisioned Pakistan. This political aspiration had long-term consequences for the region’s religious and demographic makeup.

It was around this time, under Saadulla’s administration, that properties were donated or allocated as Waqf. These included strategically located and economically significant plots in central Guwahati, such as Fancy Bazar and Kamarpatty—areas that would later become commercial nerve centers of the Northeast.

Even after Independence, and particularly following the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War, the region saw waves of migration from erstwhile East Pakistan. Assam, Tripura, and Meghalaya, due to their porous borders with Bangladesh, became natural routes of entry for refugees.

While many were Hindu Bengalis fleeing persecution, a significant number were Muslims seeking livelihood and shelter. This demographic influx brought with it the establishment of religious institutions such as mosques, madrassas, and cemeteries—many of which were eventually designated as Waqf properties.

In Manipur, the Pangal Muslims—whose migration date back to the medieval era—also began establishing religious infrastructure. Over time, many of these structures were formalised as Waqf properties. While the historical roots of these lands varied, their collective growth across the region led to a sprawling but loosely documented Waqf network.

Leasing as a shield: the Salami System

By the 1970s and 1980s, the Northeast was experiencing significant regionalist and ethno-nationalist movements. These often drew sharp lines between indigenous and non-indigenous populations. With communal tensions rising and attacks on minority communities becoming more frequent, the Waqf Boards began adopting protectionist strategies.

One such strategy was leasing out valuable Waqf property through the traditional Salami system. This system, inherited from colonial-era zamindar-administered Bengal and Assam, allowed individuals to occupy land by paying a one-time premium, known as “Salami” (literally: salutation), without actually owning the land.

Under the Assam Non-Agricultural Urban Areas Tenancy Act, 1955, tenants who paid salami were given occupancy rights and protection from eviction, although they never received formal ownership (patta). Yet, over time, many of these tenants—often influential businessmen—began to treat the properties as their own.

They invested in the development of markets, residential buildings, and commercial complexes. For instance, in Fancy Bazar, large commercial buildings were constructed on leased Waqf lands, sometimes at monthly rents as low as a few hundred or a thousand rupees.

This mutually beneficial arrangement became the norm in cities like Guwahati and towns across Assam and Tripura. For the Waqf Board, it ensured continued control over the land while providing revenue. For tenants, it offered prime property at minimal cost—often in central business districts.

Over time, the boundaries of ownership and tenancy blurred. This created legal ambiguities that are now proving difficult to untangle. Many lessees, despite having no patta or title deed, have lived on and developed Waqf land for decades. In legal terms, they are tenants, but in practical terms, they are de facto owners.

A striking example is the case of land in Fancy Bazar, belonging to one Muslim owner with the alias 'Charles Rohman', claimed by the Assam Board of Waqf, resulting in a legal battle that reached the Supreme Court. After a massive fire that caused great destruction to the shops built over it, the Waqf Board unilaterally declared it as their property.

Eventually, in an attempt to find a humane solution, the Board agreed to lease out the upper floors of the property to descendants of Rohman at a nominal rent. However disputes over ownership continue as locals claim encroachment by the body. A businessman from Fancy Bazar spoke on the condition of anonymity: "Most of the time, Waqf discriminates against its own people (Muslims) and claim their land illegally".

Why reclamation can be difficult

Despite the legal mandate provided by the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, reclaiming land encroached by the Waqf faces multiple hurdles in the Northeast.

One of the foremost issues is the deep integration of these properties into the urban life of the region. Much of the Waqf property—especially in Guwahati, Silchar, Agartala, and Imphal—is located in the heart of urban or commercial zones. These areas have evolved into key economic hubs over decades. Dislodging current occupants would not only spark litigation but also economic disruption.

Another complication lies in the lack of documentation. A significant number of Waqf properties have no proper ownership deeds or updated digital records. This absence of documentation makes enforcement, registration or a possible reclamation legally tenuous, despite the provisions of the new law.

Further, the leasing arrangements themselves are beneficial to both Waqf Boards and tenants. The Salami system has allowed tenants to operate in legal grey zones, with the 1955 tenancy law giving them considerable protection.

Since these leases are financially viable for both parties, there is little incentive to challenge the status quo or push for reclamation. Businessmen, who got prime real estate at throwaway prices, do not want to challenge the Waqf’s claim on the said property. This leaves the state government with little public support if it tries to remove the Waqf from properties it believes are encroachments on government land.

In addition, the region’s ethno-political sensitivities make the issue even more volatile. In states like Manipur, Tripura, and Meghalaya—where Muslims form a small minority—reclaiming Waqf properties could be perceived as religious assertion in politically charged environments. The recent protests in Lilong, Manipur, reflect how sensitive such moves can be and how quickly they can escalate especially in a politically challenging place such as the Northeast.

Finally, even when legal victories are secured, judicial and bureaucratic delays often make their enforcement meaningless. Court decisions may take years to translate into action, and resistance at the local level can prevent execution. This creates a situation where technically valid claims cannot be realized on the ground.

The reclamation of Waqf properties in the Northeast is not just a legal exercise—it is a balancing act between historical justice, legal rights and contemporary realities. While the Waqf (Amendment) Bill, 2025, may offer tools for reform, its implementation will require careful navigation through a complex terrain of law, history and socio-political dynamics.

Until clear documentation, digitization and legal clarity are achieved—and until all stakeholders, including tenants, religious bodies and local governments, find a workable consensus—reclaiming Waqf land in the Northeast will remain a thorny challenge.