Maq Masi Blog

In the Indian subcontinent, deep divisions persist—not only between Hindus and Muslims, but within their own communities—fuelled by pride in religion, caste, or sect. This pride is often treated as a badge of honour, inherited without question, and used to elevate the self while belittling others. Yet behind this pride lies an uncomfortable truth: none of us chose the faith or social status we were born into.

Historical evidence tells us that neither Hinduism nor Islam originated in what is now India. The earliest forms of Hindu belief were shaped by Indo-Aryan traditions brought from Central Asia around 1500 BCE, though the nature and extent of this influence is a subject of ongoing scholarly discussion, with significant indigenous contributions also recognised. Islam arrived much later through Arab traders and conquerors from the 8th century onward, representing the initial waves of a more complex and diverse history of Islamic influence in the subcontinent. These were not internal awakenings of spiritual insight, but historical forces that shaped the subcontinent, absorbing and transforming local populations over time.

This is not an attack on faith, nor an attempt to change anyone’s beliefs. It is a call for humility. If your religious identity, caste, or sect was assigned by birth, shaped by historical forces beyond your control, then what does it mean to take pride in them? While your initial circumstances may have defined you, consider the possibility of individuals who have navigated or even transcended these inherited categories. What if you were born into a caste or class that society despised, or into a religion you now reject? Would you still proclaim your current beliefs with the same conviction? Before the arrival of Vedic and Islamic traditions, many of our ancestors may have lived without structured religion—perhaps practicing animism or simply coexisting with nature and community. Do we now look down on them because they did not share the systems we were born into? Do we mistake integration into new faith traditions, often a response to historical pressure, as a personal triumph?

This article does not ask you to abandon your religion or identity. It asks something more difficult: to reflect honestly. To see your religious pride not as a personal virtue, but as a historical inheritance. And to ask yourself whether such pride—when used to hate or divide—serves truth, or simply ego. Real dignity comes not from what we inherit, but from what we create. A society built on mutual respect, compassion, and reason transcends inherited divisions. This is the essence of a humanist ethic—one that does not erase history, but learns from it.

The Uncertain Roots of Our Ancestors

What did the earliest inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent believe before the rise of Hinduism and Islam? The answer is uncertain. They may have been animistic, finding meaning in natural elements like rivers, trees, and animals, or they may have had no structured religion at all, living for survival and community. Evidence from the Harappan civilisation (2600–1900 BCE) hints at nature-based reverence, but we cannot be sure. What we do know is that your ancestors—whether you are Hindu or Muslim today—lived before the religions you now hold dear, free from the divisions that define us. If they followed different beliefs, or none at all, do you look down on them for not sharing your faith? By taking pride in your ancestors’ integration into new faith traditions—a process you did not choose—are you rejecting the very roots from which you came?

Hinduism, Caste, and a Legacy from Central Asia

For many Hindus, pride in their religion is intertwined with pride in their caste—Brahmins may see themselves as spiritual guardians, Kshatriyas as protectors, Vaishyas as stewards of commerce, and Shudras as vital contributors. This pride often fosters division, not just between Hindus and Muslims, but within Hindu society, as higher castes distance themselves from those below. Yet, the origins of Hinduism lie with the Indo-Aryans, a people who migrated into the northwest of the subcontinent around 1500 BCE from Central Asia, not India. They brought the Vedic traditions—oral hymns that later became the Vedas, the foundation of Hinduism—which were foreign to the local populations. Over centuries, these traditions absorbed indigenous practices, giving rise to Hinduism and the caste system, a hierarchy that shaped social roles by birth. This system was also historically reinforced by power structures that perpetuated social stratification. Your religion and caste are not a choice, but a legacy of this external influence, determined by the historical context of your ancestors’ lives. What if you were born a Dalit, often marginalised as an “untouchable”, or into a Muslim family you might now view with disdain? Would you have the capacity to embrace Hinduism and take pride in a caste that rejected you? If your ancestors followed different beliefs before the Aryans arrived, do you dismiss them because they were not Hindu, or do you celebrate their integration into a new faith tradition—a process you did not choose?

Islam, Sects, and an Influence from the Arabian Peninsula

Muslims in the Indian subcontinent often hold deep pride in their Islamic identity, frequently tied to their sect—Sunnis may view their practices as the most authentic, while Shias emphasise their devotion to Ali and the Imams. This pride can create rifts, not only with Hindus but between Muslims, as sects assert their own legitimacy. Yet, Islam began in the Arabian Peninsula in the 7th century with the Prophet Muhammad, arriving in the subcontinent through Arab traders, invasions, and missionaries starting in the 8th century. The Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526) and the Mughals (1526–1857) facilitated integrations into new faith traditions, often of local inhabitants, driven by factors like social mobility, economic benefits, or political patronage. Your sect, whether Sunni or Shia, is a product of this Arab influence, shaped by the circumstances of your ancestors’ time and place. What if you were born into a poor Hindu family, burdened by the caste system, or into a religion you now oppose, like Hinduism? Would you have the capacity to embrace Islam and take pride in your sect, despite the barriers of your upbringing? If your ancestors held different beliefs before Islam’s arrival, do you reject them for not being Muslim, or do you take pride in their integration into a new faith tradition—a decision you did not make?

Reflecting on Arrogance and Historical Inheritance

Pride in religion, caste, or sect often manifests as arrogance, driving division between Hindus and Muslims, as well as within their own communities. A Brahmin may look down on a Shudra, a Sunni may distance themselves from a Shia, and Hindus and Muslims may harbour mutual contempt. But this pride is not an achievement; it’s an inheritance, shaped by historical forces beyond your control. The Aryans brought Hinduism and the caste system from Central Asia, transforming your ancestors’ beliefs into a structured hierarchy. The Arabs brought Islam, and later rulers and missionaries integrated your ancestors into new faith traditions, aligning them with Sunni or Shia traditions. If you believe your religion, caste, or sect represents the “only true path,” consider this: what if you were born into a lower class, like a Dalit or a poor labourer, or into the religion you now oppose—Hinduism for Muslims, Islam for Hindus? Would you have the capacity to adopt your current faith, navigating the social, economic, and cultural obstacles of your circumstances? A Dalit might struggle to embrace the upper-caste ideals of Hinduism; a poor Hindu might face exclusion for adopting Islam. Your pride is not a choice; it’s a product of history. And what of your ancestors, who may have lived without structured religion? Do you dismiss them because you have integrated into a new faith tradition, taking pride in a transformation you did not orchestrate?

True Dignity: Building Something New

If your religion, caste, or sect is an inheritance, not a creation, what does it mean to wield that pride as a weapon of division? True dignity lies in what you build, not what you inherit. Imagine creating something entirely new—a way of living that transcends the boundaries of caste, sect and religion, rooted in humanist principles of compassion, reason, and mutual respect. That would be a legacy worth celebrating, a contribution that is truly yours. I understand that these questions may provoke resistance. You might label me as arrogant, non-religious, or someone who has abandoned their faith. But my aim is not to attack; it is to invite reflection, to encourage you to see beyond the divisions we’ve inherited.

Conclusion: A Humanist Vision Beyond Arrogance

The divisions between Hindus and Muslims in the Indian subcontinent are deepened by an arrogant pride in religion, caste, and sect—identities that are not your own creations, but products of historical inheritance and locality. Hinduism arrived with the Aryans from Central Asia, Islam with the Arabs, shaping your ancestors’ beliefs into the faiths you hold today. What if you were born into a lower class or a religion you now oppose—would you have the capacity to adopt your current faith? Do you dismiss your ancestors, who may have lived without structured religion, because you integrated into a new faith tradition and take pride in that integration? I don’t expect agreement—you may well see me as the arrogant one—but I ask you to reflect on a shared humanity based on humanist principles, where compassion, reason, and mutual respect can guide us beyond the divisions of the past. These reflections are not merely historical; they speak to the ongoing challenges of communal harmony and social justice in the subcontinent today.