The Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025 marks a significant turning point in the legal architecture governing religious endowments in India. With the insertion of Section 36, the Act now makes it explicitly clear that henceforth, all waqf properties must be registered solely by deed. The longstanding and controversial provision allowing waqf by user has not only been rendered obsolete but entirely excised from the statute.

Importantly, a new provision—Section 3(e)—introduces a caveat with serious implications: if any waqf property previously registered under the now-defunct waqf by user mechanism becomes the subject of a legal dispute, it shall no longer be entitled to protection under the Waqf Act. This statutory shift is more than just procedural housekeeping; it carries deep implications for several high-profile land disputes in contemporary India.

Consider the legal battles surrounding the Ram Janmabhoomi in Ayodhya, the Gyanvapi Mosque in Varanasi, and the Idgah Maidan in Bengaluru. In each of these cases, the historical status of the properties was challenged due to the lack of documentary evidence establishing their waqf status in accordance with Islamic law. In response, the argument of waqf by user—that longstanding use by a community implied waqf status—was strategically invoked. With the present amendment, such a legal crutch has now been removed.

It is worth stating categorically: the doctrine of waqf by user has long been anomalous in Indian law. It enjoys no constitutional sanctity and stands in direct contradiction to Articles 14, 21, 25, and 300A of the Constitution, which uphold equality before the law, protection of life and liberty, religious freedom, and the right to property, respectively. There exists no corresponding concept—such as temple by user, church by user, or gurudwara by user—that enjoys similar statutory privilege. Its origins can be traced to 1954, and it was controversially revived in 2013. The 2025 Amendment, in this regard, is not only a legal correction but also a constitutional imperative.

And yet, what unfolds in the courtroom is a tale of judicial inconsistency. A compelling example lies in the case of an ancient Shiva temple in Delhi, situated on the Yamuna riverbed. The Delhi High Court held that "Lord Shiva does not need our protection", dismissing the plea against its demolition. When the matter reached the Supreme Court, the bench demanded documentary proof of the temple's antiquity.

Contrast this with the waqf property cases, where the Supreme Court has reportedly asked—albeit as an observation—how historical mosques can be expected to furnish documentation. If the historicity of Lord Ram could be subjected to judicial scrutiny, if the pre-Babri existence of a Ram Mandir could be debated in court, then surely the origins and legitimacy of waqf by user deserve equal examination. Anything less would amount to a troubling double standard.

There is also a procedural grievance that cannot be overlooked. When petitions challenging the Waqf Act, 1995 were filed in 2018 and 2020, the Supreme Court directed petitioners to approach the High Courts. The Ministry of Law and Justice subsequently admitted, on affidavit, that 120 such petitions were pending in various High Courts—a number that has now risen to 140. Yet these petitions have seen no hearings, no interim orders, and no stays in the past seven years. Ironically, it is only now, when the Parliament has amended the very provisions being contested, that the Supreme Court has chosen to entertain the matter directly.

This deviation from established judicial hierarchy is not merely a procedural anomaly—it raises critical questions about consistency, equity, and the uniform application of justice. Why were earlier petitioners denied a direct hearing, while this matter is being addressed at the apex level without exhausting remedies in the High Courts?

The abolition of waqf by user is, by all accounts, a necessary correction to a legal anomaly that had no place in a secular constitutional order. However, if such reforms are to command legitimacy, they must be matched by a judiciary that applies its scrutiny evenly—irrespective of the religious identity of the petitioner or the property in question.