In the early hours of the fourth day after a city magistrate's order, bulldozers moved into the grounds of the district collectorate in Saharanpur, western Uttar Pradesh, and razed a mosque that had stood inside the government compound for generations. By the time local journalists reached the site, there was, in the words of one who visited, “no trace that a mosque had ever stood there.” The demolition has become the latest flashpoint in a string of mosque clearances across Uttar Pradesh, and it has thrust Saharanpur's sitting Congress MP, Imran Masood, into an uncomfortable position: the local Muslim leader now dividing his own constituents between those who want him fighting in the streets and those, including some Hindu neighbours, quietly standing by him.
A Mosque Erased Overnight
Masood's account begins with the timeline. He says the city magistrate's order came on the third of the month, and by the evening of the fourth, demolition was already underway — leaving no real window for an appeal. By law, he says, he should have had roughly 22 days to move the Allahabad High Court against an eviction order before any structure could be touched. That window, he says, was never honoured.
Central to his objection is a distinction he returns to repeatedly: the city magistrate's order, he says, was for “bedakhali” — eviction — not demolition. Acting on an eviction order as though it authorised demolition, he argues, was itself an act outside the law.
A Paper Trail That Predates the Collectorate Itself
Masood's central claim is about ownership, not sentiment. The mosque, he says, sat on survey plot number 84, an 84-bigha parcel that also happens to contain the entire district collectorate compound built around it. According to land settlement records dating to the bandobast (revenue settlement) years he cites as 1324 and 1359 in the Bikrami calendar — corresponding to the colonial-era land settlements — and reflected in the khewat and khatauni revenue registers still in force in Uttar Pradesh, the land was, and remains, recorded in the names of two individuals: Yakub Khan and Waheed Khan. “The collectorate itself is built on encroached land,” Masood says. “The papers are screaming that this land is centuries old, and the owners are the same men on record today.”
He anticipates the obvious counter — that decades of unchallenged government occupation should count for something — and cites a Supreme Court position that adverse possession, the doctrine that long, uncontested occupation can convert into ownership, does not run in the government's favour. The state, he says the court has held, is a custodian of land, not a party that can claim it by encroachment. If anyone has been sitting on land they don't legally own, by his account, it is the collectorate, not the mosque.
He also argues that the mosque was protected under the Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991, which freezes the religious character of any site as it stood on 15 August 1947. Since the structure predates independence and was, he says, in continuous use for prayer — with namaz offered inside it as recently as two prayer sessions before the demolition — he believes it should have been shielded by that law, as well as by “title by long user,” a separate doctrine under which decades of unchallenged religious use establishes a right to continue. Government records, he adds, show the telecommunications department paying the mosque committee rent for the site since 1960, itself implying official recognition of the committee's rights on the land.
A Disputed Electricity Bill
The administration's counter-case, as Masood describes it, rests substantially on documentary attempts to show the mosque was a comparatively recent structure with no independent claim to the land — including a 1911 electricity bill pulled from the state electricity board's own website and submitted in the mosque committee's name. Masood calls the exercise self-defeating: electricity did not reach Saharanpur until 1906, he says, which makes a bill from just a few years later entirely plausible rather than suspicious, and he says officials never summoned the executive engineer to verify the document despite being asked to. He also points to reporting that traced bricks recovered from the demolished structure's rubble to a construction period around 1906–1909, consistent with his version rather than the administration's newer claim that the mosque was only around 70 years old and had been built by collectorate employees who were merely permitted to pray there. “Permission from whom?” he asks. “Permission is granted by the owner. And the owner, on paper, has never been the government.”
He also dismisses the administration's use of “khasra” land records as the basis for its claim, noting that the Supreme Court has held khasra records to be primary evidence of title only in Madhya Pradesh; in Uttar Pradesh, he says, the operative documents are khewat and khatauni, both of which still carry Yakub Khan's and Waheed Khan's names. He also says an internal administrative inquiry into the site, led by an additional district magistrate, was conducted before the demolition and that its findings were never made public — he alleges the report itself was made to disappear.
Why He Didn't Lead a Street Protest
The sharpest exchange in the interview is not about land law but about Masood's own conduct. He is asked directly why, as Saharanpur's MP, he did not lead an overnight sit-in or a visible confrontation with the administration once he suspected the mosque would be demolished regardless of assurances from the district magistrate. His answer draws a hard line between what he calls fighting and what he calls dying. “If I had stood there fighting, you would have seen bodies carried on shoulders,” he says, invoking recent violence in Sambhal, where he says police shot people directly — in the forehead, in the chest — and the resulting FIR blamed “rioters,” even though, in his telling, only police and Muslim residents were present at the scene, and five people died. He also points to Bareilly, where cleric Maulana Tauqir Raza has not been granted bail and roughly fifty people, he says, had everything they owned destroyed.
Masood contrasts himself with his own predecessor as Saharanpur's MP, whom he accuses of having driven through the city inciting violence during 2014 riots while he himself worked to stop them. His responsibility, he says, is to protect his city's peace, not to “set it on fire” for the sake of looking combative. He denies reports that he was placed under house arrest, saying he was in Delhi when the demolition began, returned directly, and held a press conference from a party colleague's residence rather than staying silent.
“This Is Saharanpur”
Perhaps the most striking element of Masood's account is what he says did not happen. Within the same collectorate compound, close to where the mosque stood, sits a temple that has been neither demolished nor declared unauthorised — and Masood insists he has no demand that it be treated differently. “If my mosque is demolished, I cannot call for a temple to be demolished,” he says. “I will protect the mosque. I will protect the temple too. This is Saharanpur.” He notes that two Hindu residents gave testimony before the city magistrate in the mosque's favour, and that a former BJP MLA from the area publicly posted an emotional video over the demolition. Attempts to inflame communal tension in the aftermath, including posters put up the following day, did not, in his account, gain traction locally.
The Road Ahead
Masood says a writ petition has already been filed before the Allahabad High Court and that he expects, in his words, “100 percent justice,” pointing to a separate case in which the same court fined the Prayagraj Development Authority over unauthorised demolitions. His appeal to Muslim residents, repeated throughout the conversation, is for restraint rather than confrontation: pray, do not be provoked, and trust the paperwork and the courts rather than the street. He is dismissive of anyone urging a more combative response, characterising provocation as a trap that benefits the state by giving it a pretext for arrests and further bulldozing, and he pushes back on suggestions of friction with alliance partners in the Samajwadi Party, saying coalition decisions rest with party leadership rather than individual MPs.
Whether the courts vindicate his reading of the land records remains to be seen. What Masood is staking his own political credibility on, in the meantime, is a bet that patience and paperwork will do more for Saharanpur's Muslims than a fight he says he has watched turn fatal everywhere else it has been tried this year.
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