Lord Ram Is Not 'Imam-e-Hind'—And Never Was

I have never been comfortable with the urge to dress up Hinduism in borrowed religious vocabulary. Every few years, someone rediscovers the phrase "Imam-e-Hind" for Lord Ram and presents it as a shining example of communal harmony. I do not see it that way. To me, it diminishes rather than elevates Ram.

My first difficulty is with those who invoke Ram most enthusiastically during political debates but, in my opinion, show little evidence of personal devotion. I look at the Congress leadership and find it difficult to believe that Ram occupies a central place in their faith. Sonia Gandhi, Rahul Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi have not, to my knowledge, visited the Ram Temple in Ayodhya for darshan. There has long been a claim that Sonia Gandhi wanted to visit Nepal's Pashupatinath Temple but was denied entry because she was a Christian, and that she also wished to visit the Jagannath Temple, where non-Hindus are barred. Yet I have not seen the same enthusiasm for temples where non-Hindus are freely admitted. Whether one agrees with that observation or not, it raises questions in my mind about what exactly is being signalled.

Ayodhya is not merely another pilgrimage centre. It is the heartland of the Ramanandi tradition. Swami Ramanand's famous teaching—"Ask not about caste; whoever worships Hari belongs to Hari"—is among the most inclusive statements in the Hindu tradition. It makes no distinction of birth, status or community. Ironically, those who quote inclusiveness today often seem less interested in Ram as an object of devotion than as an instrument of political messaging.

That is why I object to calling Ram "Imam-e-Hind." The defence usually offered is that Allama Iqbal coined the expression. That settles nothing for me. An expression does not become appropriate merely because a celebrated poet used it. I am equally uneasy when respected figures within the RSS explain that some followers of other faiths refer to Ram by that title. Such explanations may be well-intentioned, but they hand critics an easy argument: if your own ideological leaders accept the phrase, why object when others use it?

My objection is simple. In Islamic theology, an Imam occupies a defined position within a religious hierarchy. Even the highest Imam in Shia belief, Imam Mahdi, stands below Allah and the Prophet. Why, then, should Hindus accept a description of Lord Ram that places Him within someone else's theological framework and below figures recognised in another religion? Reverence cannot be built on borrowed categories.

I also find little value in the fashionable search for similarities between Hinduism and Islam. They are profound faiths, but they are not identical. Hindu philosophy generally sees time as cyclical, with creation and dissolution recurring endlessly. Islamic theology follows a linear understanding of history, ending in a final judgement. These are not minor differences that can be brushed aside with slogans about universal harmony. They represent fundamentally different ways of understanding existence.

This is also why I cannot accept Iqbal's phrase "Ahl-e-Nazar call him Imam-e-Hind" without examining what "Ahl-e-Nazar" implies. In the religious vocabulary from which the expression comes, the phrase carries meanings rooted in Islamic belief. If those with "vision" are believers, where does that leave millions of Hindus whose lives are devoted to Ram? Language is never innocent. Words carry histories and hierarchies with them.

The eagerness of some politicians to embrace such terminology strikes me as an attempt to win approval rather than to foster genuine understanding. Yet the irony, as I see it, is that even such gestures would not alter orthodox theological definitions of belief. Acceptance is not granted merely because someone adopts another community's vocabulary.

Nor do I share the popular tendency to remember Allama Iqbal only as the poet of "Sare Jahan Se Achha." His intellectual journey was far more complicated. He later embraced a distinctly pan-Islamic vision, replacing territorial nationalism with the idea of a wider Muslim community. Works such as "Shikwa" and "Jawab-e-Shikwa" reflected that shift. In my reading, his later ideas also helped shape the intellectual climate from which the Two-Nation Theory drew strength.

In fact, I believe the Two-Nation Theory cannot be understood merely as the creation of Iqbal, Jinnah or Sir Syed Ahmad Khan. It drew sustenance from deeper theological distinctions between believers and unbelievers that already existed within Islamic thought. Political leaders merely translated those ideas into political demands.

For all these reasons, I regard the description of Lord Ram as "Imam-e-Hind" as inappropriate and disrespectful. Ram does not require validation through another religion's vocabulary. He stands complete within the Hindu tradition. To redefine Him through categories that belong elsewhere is, in my view, neither an act of respect nor of harmony. It is a misunderstanding of both faiths.

If organisations such as the RSS wish to engage in interfaith dialogue, they should certainly do so. But they should do it from within the philosophical vocabulary of Hinduism, not by recasting Hindu deities in terms borrowed from another theological tradition. Genuine respect between religions begins by recognising each faith on its own terms, not by collapsing one into the language of another.