Editorial-03/09/2026
Orthodoxy redux: On Keralam, religion and Muslim women’s rights
The recent directive by veteran Sunni cleric Kanthapuram A.P. Aboobacker Musliyar, asking Muslim women to avoid public religious festivities and remain confined to their homes, has triggered a sharp debate in Kerala over the limits of religious orthodoxy, constitutional rights, and the state’s progressive self-image. While framed as a call to preserve Islamic norms, the edict effectively seeks to roll back Muslim women’s visibility in public life and tests Kerala’s commitment to gender equality in the face of clerical authority.
The controversy: what was said, and why it matters
At the Hubbul Rasool conference in Kochi in late August 2026, Kanthapuram—general secretary of the Kanthapuram faction of Samastha Kerala Jamiyyathul Ulama—asserted that the Quran mandates women to stay at home and warned that their presence on public platforms, especially alongside unrelated men, could cause “great destruction.” He compared women to gold ornaments that must be kept safely inside a box and justified purdah as a protective, honour-based requirement.
Following this, a circular was reportedly issued to mahals, madrasas and mosques under his influence, directing that religious celebrations adhere strictly to Islamic norms and that women should not share stages or public spaces with men. The immediate flashpoint was the sight of young Muslim girls participating visibly in Onam celebrations—dancing, dressing festively, and appearing in public spaces—videos of which went viral on social media. For orthodox clerics, this represented a departure from “proper” religious conduct; for many others, it symbolised Kerala’s everyday pluralism and the normalisation of Muslim women in public cultural life.
The stakes go beyond Milad-un-Nabi (Prophet’s birthday) or Onam. At issue is whether religious leaders can, in the name of tradition, restrict women’s mobility, association, and participation in public events—a question that cuts to the core of constitutional equality and personal liberty.
Constitutional rights versus clerical diktats
Kanthapuram’s position rests on a particular interpretation of Islamic texts and the idea that religious communities must police their own moral boundaries. His supporters argue that Milad celebrations have become overly public and that scholars are merely reminding believers of established norms.
However, as the Hindu editorial notes, while communities are free to manage internal religious customs, such practices must align with constitutional values. When women are told to stay home because their presence might lead to “chaos,” the issue shifts from religious observance to a direct challenge to:
- The right to equality before law and equal protection of laws (Article 14).
- The right to freedom of movement and residence (Article 19(1)(d) and (e)).
- The right to practise any profession, or to carry on any occupation, trade or business (Article 19(1)(g)), which extends in spirit to participation in public and cultural life.
- The broader constitutional vision of dignity and non-discrimination on grounds of sex (Articles 15 and 21).
Religious freedom under Article 25 is not absolute; it is subject to public order, morality, health, and other fundamental rights. A clerical directive that effectively bars women from public spaces cannot be shielded as purely “religious practice” when it impinges on their fundamental rights and reinforces gender-based segregation as a social norm.
Kerala’s paradox: high development, persistent patriarchy
Kerala is often celebrated for high female literacy, strong health indicators, and significant female presence in education and public institutions. Yet, as this episode shows, social development has not automatically erased patriarchal controls, especially when they are sanctified by religious authority.
Within the Muslim community, there is a clear diversity of positions. An increasing number of Muslim women are breaking barriers in education, employment, and politics. At the same time, orthodox structures—madrasas, mahals, and influential clerics—retain substantial social power to define “proper” behaviour, particularly for women. The result is a tension between:
- A modernising impulse among sections of the community, especially younger, educated women who see public participation as normal and necessary.
- A conservative impulse that views women’s visibility, mixing with men, and cultural participation as morally risky and religiously suspect.
This is not unique to Muslims; similar dynamics exist across communities in India. But in Kerala, where the narrative of progress is strong, the contradiction is sharper: a state that prides itself on women’s empowerment is being asked to accept exceptions where orthodoxy can override rights.
Political responses: between principle and calculation
The political reaction in Kerala reveals how sensitive the intersection of religion, gender, and vote banks can be.
- CPI(M) and the Left: The CPI(M), the main opposition party and a long-time ally of the Kanthapuram faction of Samastha, reacted strongly against the directive, calling it regressive and anti-women. This allows the Left to position itself as a defender of progressive values while also distancing itself from an uncomfortable ally.
- Congress and the UDF government: The ruling Congress initially maintained a cautious stance, but Chief Minister V.D. Satheesan eventually dismissed the edict as outdated and incompatible with Kerala’s values. This belated clarity underscores the government’s dilemma: balancing coalition partners, including the Indian Union Muslim League (IUML), against the need to uphold gender-justice rhetoric.
- IUML: The Muslim League’s silence is particularly telling. As a party with an active women’s forum and its first female legislator in the Kerala Assembly, it cannot credibly remain ambivalent when women’s right to public participation is under direct threat. Its reticence may reflect political calculations around Waqf, Vande Mataram, PM-SHRI schools, and internal tensions between Samastha factions. Yet, silence itself becomes a political statement—one that signals tolerance for clerical control over women’s lives.
- BJP and other voices: Kerala BJP chief Rajeev Chandrasekhar asserted that every girl in Kerala has the constitutional right to learn, celebrate, lead, and live with dignity without clerical diktats. Meanwhile, groups like KNM Markazudawa have condemned Kanthapuram’s remarks as misogynistic, arguing there is no scriptural basis for confining women to homes or kitchens.
The political subtext is clear: in a state where religious communities are key electoral constituencies, parties often tread carefully around clerical authority—even when it conflicts with constitutional principles.
Muslim women’s voices: resistance from within
Importantly, the pushback has not come only from political leaders or secular commentators. Muslim women themselves have been vocal on social media, questioning the logic and legitimacy of the directive. For many, the images of girls dancing at Onam or participating in public events are not signs of moral decline but of normal citizenship—of being Keralites first, whose religious identity does not require invisibility.
Organisations and scholars within the community have also challenged the theological basis of the edict. Critics point to historical precedents from the time of the Prophet, when women participated in public life, trade, and even battles, to argue that Islam does not mandate domestic confinement. As KNM Markazudawa’s Abdul Latheef Karumbilakkal put it, “Religion does not oppose women entering public life, managing their own affairs, or engaging in social matters. It is clerical orthodoxy that repeatedly stands in the way of progress.”
This internal contestation is crucial. It shows that the debate is not between “Islam” and “modernity” as monoliths, but between competing interpretations within the faith—some rigid and control-oriented, others more expansive and rights-affirming.
Why “orthodoxy redux” matters beyond Kerala
The phrase “orthodoxy redux” captures a broader pattern: the recurrent attempt by religious authorities across communities to reassert control over women’s bodies, mobility, and choices in the name of tradition. Similar debates have arisen over:
- Entry of women of menstruating age to Sabarimala.
- Dress codes and segregation in educational and religious spaces.
- Resistance to reforms in personal laws affecting marriage, divorce, and inheritance.
Kerala’s case is significant because it involves a community that has made substantial developmental gains yet remains vulnerable to top-down moral policing by clerics. If orthodoxy can successfully dictate that Muslim women should not appear in public festivities, it sets a precedent that can be extended to other domains: education, work, political participation, and even everyday mobility.
The larger question is whether Indian democracy will allow religious leaders to function as parallel legislators on gender norms, or whether constitutional rights will be the final arbiter.
The way forward: rights, reform, and representation
Addressing this challenge requires action on multiple fronts:
- Affirming constitutional supremacy: Political leaders, across parties, must consistently affirm that religious freedom does not include the right to curtail women’s fundamental rights. Statements like the Chief Minister’s rejection of the edict should become the norm, not the exception.
- Supporting internal reform: Progressive voices within the Muslim community—scholars, organisations, and especially women—need institutional and political support to counter orthodox narratives. Reform is most sustainable when it comes from within, grounded in scripture and tradition but interpreted in light of contemporary realities.
- Strengthening legal and institutional safeguards: While not every clerical statement will warrant legal action, there must be clarity that directives that effectively restrict women’s movement or access to public spaces can be challenged under constitutional and statutory frameworks.
- Normalising women’s public presence: Schools, colleges, local governments, and cultural platforms must continue to encourage and visibly include Muslim women in public life—as students, leaders, artists, and citizens. The more routine women’s participation becomes, the harder it is for orthodoxy to paint it as deviant.
- Political accountability: Parties that claim to champion women’s empowerment must be held accountable when they remain silent or complicit in the face of clerical diktats. Vote-bank calculations cannot justify sacrificing half the community’s rights.
Conclusion
The Kanthapuram directive is more than a local controversy; it is a litmus test for Kerala’s—and India’s—commitment to gender justice in a plural, religious society. Religion, in the hands of progressive believers, can be a source of dignity and ethical guidance. But when orthodoxy uses religion to confine women to the home and label their public presence as “destruction,” it betrays both faith and the Constitution.
Kerala cannot credibly present itself as a progressive society while carving out exceptions where religious orthodoxy is allowed to override women’s rights. The real measure of progress will be whether Muslim women can move, study, work, celebrate, and lead in public spaces without needing permission from clerics—or political parties too afraid to offend them.
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