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A Forgotten Voice India Still Needs: The Legacy of Mohammed Abdurahiman Sahib

He believed that Muslims were equal citizens, not a community to be feared or segregated. He rejected both separatism and submissiveness. He spoke for education, reform and dignity. He insisted that secular politics was not a favour but a foundation.
K.M. Seethi
Nov 25 2025
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He believed that Muslims were equal citizens, not a community to be feared or segregated. He rejected both separatism and submissiveness. He spoke for education, reform and dignity. He insisted that secular politics was not a favour but a foundation.
Mohammed Abdurahiman Sahib. Photo: Public domain via Wikimedia Commons
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India’s freedom struggle produced many leaders who became national figures, but it also produced others whose work was equally important yet merged into the larger narratives. Mohammed Abdurahiman Sahib belongs to this second group – someone who deserves far more space in our collective memory. But does he receive that recognition eight decades after his death?

In his lifetime, he was a familiar and respected figure across Malabar and much of South India. He travelled from village to village, spoke at one meeting after another, argued for unity, and stood firmly against communalism and all forms of injustice. But today he appears mostly as a passing reference in many accounts of India’s independence. His life was marked by openness, courage, and a strong sense of commitment, and it deserves to be remembered more widely.

Born in Kodungallur in 1898, he grew up with a strong interest in learning and public life. His years in Aligarh exposed him to discussions on reform and political responsibility. When he decided to return to Kerala, abandoning his studies, the options were clear. He began working among ordinary people, encouraging them to read newspapers, organise themselves, and take part in the national movement. He was not driven by personal ambition and firmly believed that if people stayed away from politics, decisions would be taken over their heads.

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The years after the First World War brought new political activity to Malabar. The Khilafat and Non-Cooperation movements opened new political spaces for participation. For the first time, Mappila (Malabar Muslim) peasants entered national politics in large numbers. Abdurahiman became one of the strongest organisers of this phase, speaking of unity, dignity and peaceful resistance. Though a staunch Congress leader, the Malabar Rebellion of 1921 placed him in a difficult position. What began as a reaction to police excesses soon turned violent. Hindu families were attacked, temples were damaged, and the British responded with harsh repression. Congress leaders condemned the violence. Gandhi described the later phase of the uprising in severe terms. Mappilas felt singled out and misunderstood.

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Abdurahiman refused to reduce the conflict to a question of religious anger. He condemned the attacks on Hindus but insisted that fundamental causes (such as agrarian distress, administrative failures and police brutality) had fuelled the revolt. After the rebellion, he walked through affected areas, appealed for calm, and urged both communities not to lose faith in one another. The British arrested him in late 1921 because he would not endorse their version of events. He spent two years in prison – the first of many episodes.

His time in jail (spanning over eight years in different times) changed him profoundly. In Palakkad, Kannur and later Vellore, he taught illiterate inmates, helped them write petitions, and demanded clean food, drinking water and medical care. He refused special favours and insisted that political prisoners deserved dignity. Jail officials often complained that he was “stubborn,” but he viewed prison not as a place for silence but as a place where rights had to be asserted.

When he was released in 1923, he returned to public work without hesitation. His early experiences in jail convinced him that injustice could not be separated into categories. Whether it occurred under colonial law or in a prison kitchen, it deserved the same resistance.

In 1924, he launched Al-Ameen in Kozhikode. The newspaper had no wealthy patrons or corporate backers. It survived on small subscriptions and on the money he personally borrowed to meet printing costs. He used its pages to argue for modern education, women’s advancement, and scientific learning among Kerala Muslims. He criticised colonial laws, police repression and communal propaganda. He asked Muslims to join the national movement with confidence, not fear. EMS Namboodiripad later wrote that he was profoundly inspired by the writings in Al-Ameen.

The British issued repeated warnings under the Press Act. Advertisers avoided the paper because it took clear political positions. During the Second World War, when Al-Ameen rejected the British war effort and echoed some of Subhas Chandra Bose’s arguments, censorship tightened. A heavy security deposit was demanded. The paper struggled every day for survival and finally closed during his long imprisonment after 1940. But it had already done its work. It had given Kerala Muslims a voice that was modern, national and reformist at a time when communal politics was gaining ground.

Abdurahiman’s involvement in the Vaikom Satyagraha of 1924 shows how he viewed justice. He travelled with George Joseph to support the struggle for temple-road access. For him, caste discrimination was not a “Hindu question” but a human question. Gandhi, however, advised both of them to withdraw, arguing that the reform must come from within Hindu society. Abdurahiman respected Gandhi but disagreed with this reasoning. He returned to Malabar convinced that injustice should be opposed by everyone, irrespective of religion.

Standing with Azad, but Inspired by Bose

Two leaders influenced him deeply, though in different ways. One was Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, whose belief in a composite Indian nation matched his own. Like Azad, Abdurahiman held that Muslims were an integral part of India’s national life and that the Two-Nation Theory was dangerous. He believed that dividing India on religious lines would expose Muslims to greater insecurity and weaken secular politics.

The other influence was Subhas Chandra Bose. He admired Bose’s firm stand against British rule and his refusal to slow the freedom struggle during the war. When Bose resigned from the Congress presidency in 1939, Abdurahiman criticised the Congress leadership. This made some Kerala Congress leaders uneasy and contributed to his arrest in 1940 under the Defence of India Rules. He spent the next five years in jail — the longest imprisonment of his life.

He was released only in mid-1945. His health would have been severely affected by years in prison, but he refused rest. In the next two and a half months, he addressed more than three hundred public meetings across Malabar. These were not ceremonial visits. They were urgent appeals for unity, dignity and national responsibility. Many meetings were disrupted by conservative groups who disliked his reformist, nationalist views. He faced insults, but he continued speaking because he believed that silence would leave space for communal politics to grow.

During the troubled time of the ‘Muslim question,’ he travelled to Bombay to meet Muhammad Ali Jinnah, hoping to discuss the widening communal divide. He wanted to express the concerns of Kerala Muslims, who did not support separatism. Jinnah refused to meet him, saying he had “no time.” Abdurahiman returned disappointed but not surprised. Positions had hardened beyond dialogue.

He also pursued a project close to his heart – a Malayalam translation of the Qur’an. He sought financial help from the Nizam of Hyderabad, who initially agreed. But conservative voices in Malabar sent telegrams to Hyderabad opposing the project, warning that it would create unrest. The Nizam withdrew his support. The episode revealed how difficult reform work was within his own community. But it did not discourage him. He continued to speak, write and travel.

His health, however, collapsed under the strain. On 23 November 1945, he died after attending a meeting in Kozhikode. He had lived only a few months after his release. India achieved freedom two years later, but he did not live to see the country he had served so tirelessly.

Also read: How Ambedkar and Nehru’s Words Debunk Modi’s Prejudiced Understanding of the 'Macaulay Mindset'

Abdurahiman’s warnings about communal politics proved accurate. Partition displaced millions and left deep scars on both India and Pakistan. The decades that followed saw repeated riots — Ahmedabad 1969, Moradabad 1980, Nellie 1983, Delhi 1984, Bhagalpur 1989, Bombay 1992–93, Gujarat 2002, and many others. He had foreseen that communal thinking, once normalised, would return again and again.

Abdurahiman’s legacy offers an alternative path. He believed that Muslims were equal citizens, not a community to be feared or segregated. He rejected both separatism and submissiveness. He spoke for education, reform and dignity. He insisted that secular politics was not a favour but a foundation. Abdurahiman believed that India’s unity rested on fairness, not cultural uniformity.

Mohammed Abdurahiman Sahib’s life reminds us that freedom did not come only from great national leaders, but also from those who worked with ordinary people and refused to accept injustice in any form. His commitment to a plural India, his courage in the face of hostility, and his belief in equal citizenship remain immensely relevant. At a time when divisions again threaten the promise of the republic and the secular structure of the society, remembering him is not an act of nostalgia, but an act of responsibility.

K.M. Seethi is director, Inter University Centre for Social Science Research, Mahatma Gandhi University, who earlier served as senior professor of International Relations and Dean of Social Sciences. 

This article went live on November twenty-fifth, two thousand twenty five, at nine minutes past five in the evening.

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