Once land is classified as Waqf property, residents become legally vulnerable
In the coastal community of Munambam, hundreds of residents find themselves caught between the competing claims of history, law, and political will. Kerala's newly installed Chief Minister V D Satheesan has at last spoken to a land dispute that stretches back to a 1950 charitable gift and has grown, over decades, into a tangle of Waqf registrations, halted tax payments, and the looming threat of eviction. He promises protection, yet the very legal mechanism he once said could resolve everything in ten minutes remains unused — a measure of how swiftly a bold promise can meet the weight of inherited complications.
- Residents of Munambam have lived for over 413 days in legal limbo, reclassified as encroachers on land their families have long called home.
- The outgoing LDF government's last-minute registration of the disputed land on the Waqf portal has effectively tied the new administration's hands, turning a political promise into a legal obstacle.
- Satheesan, who once declared he could end the dispute in ten minutes using Section 97 of the Waqf Act, now faces mounting public pressure to explain why those ten minutes have not yet come.
- The CM has responded by pointing backward — accusing his predecessors of deliberately sabotaging the transition and allowing communal tensions to deepen, both openly and through quiet bureaucratic maneuvers.
- His one firm commitment stands: residents will not be evicted — but how he honors that pledge without invoking Section 97 or directly overriding the Waqf Board remains unanswered.
Kerala Chief Minister V D Satheesan stepped into the Munambam land dispute this week, breaking a silence that had grown increasingly difficult to justify. Shortly after taking office, he had made a striking claim — that he could resolve the entire controversy in ten minutes by invoking Section 97 of the Waqf Act to remove the land from the Board's registry. Weeks passed without action, and the criticism mounted.
When he finally spoke, Satheesan directed his explanation toward the outgoing LDF government. In his telling, they had made a calculated exit move — registering the disputed land on the Waqf portal just as they left office, knowing it would legally complicate any effort to protect residents. Once land carries Waqf status, those living on it are reclassified as encroachers, making government intervention far more fraught. He also accused his predecessors of quietly stoking communal tensions while the Sangh Parivar did so openly — leaving the new administration to inherit a deliberately worsened situation.
The dispute's origins lie in 1950, when Mohammed Siddique Sait gifted land to Farook College for educational purposes. The arrangement held for decades until 2019, when the Kerala State Waqf Board claimed the entire 404.76 acres as Waqf property. By 2021, village offices had stopped accepting tax payments from residents — a quiet but telling shift in how the state regarded their status. When the Waqf Board voted in April 2026 to upload all registered assets to a centralized digital platform, the dispute had already stretched 413 days.
Satheesan has made one unconditional promise: residents will not be evicted. But he has not yet used the legal tool he once said would solve everything swiftly. The residents remain in an uncertain middle ground — not evicted, but not secure — while the question shifts from how quickly the CM can act to whether he can act at all without paying a steep political price.
Chief Minister V D Satheesan broke his silence on the Munambam land dispute this week, stepping into a controversy that has shadowed his early days in office. The issue had become impossible to ignore. Just days after taking the oath, Satheesan had made a bold public claim: he could resolve the entire matter in ten minutes, simply by invoking Section 97 of the Waqf Act to order the land removed from the Board's registry. But the weeks that followed brought only quiet, and the criticism grew louder.
On Monday, Satheesan finally addressed the delay, and his explanation pointed backward. The previous government, he said, had deliberately sabotaged the incoming administration by registering the disputed land on the Waqf portal just as they were leaving office. This was not mere incompetence or bureaucratic inertia. It was, in his telling, a calculated move to prevent him from keeping his promise to the residents. "On their way out, the government, which had assured the residents of the region that they would not be evicted, acted swiftly by registering the land on the Waqf portal," Satheesan said. Once land is classified as Waqf property, residents become legally vulnerable—classified as encroachers rather than rightful occupants. That status makes any government action to protect them far more complicated.
Satheesan also leveled a broader accusation at his predecessors, claiming they had worked indirectly to inflame the dispute while the Sangh Parivar had done so openly. The implication was clear: the previous administration had allowed communal tensions to fester and had even contributed to them, all while the new government was expected to clean up the mess. Yet despite the blame directed backward, Satheesan made one firm commitment: residents would not be evicted. He would find a way to protect them, he said, even within the legal constraints now in place.
The roots of this dispute run deep. In 1950, a man named Mohammed Siddique Sait gifted land to Farook College for educational purposes. For decades, this arrangement held. But in 2019, the Kerala State Waqf Board made a sweeping claim: the entire 404.76 acres of land was Waqf property, not a charitable gift to an educational institution. The claim escalated the tension considerably. Then in 2021, village offices stopped accepting routine tax payments from residents—a move that signaled the state itself was beginning to treat them differently. By April 2026, when the Waqf Board voted to upload all registered assets to a centralized digital platform called UMEED, the dispute had been festering for 413 days.
What Satheesan faces now is a puzzle with no easy answer. He has promised protection without invoking the very legal tool he claimed could solve the problem in minutes. The residents, meanwhile, remain in legal limbo—neither fully secure in their homes nor formally evicted, but increasingly vulnerable as the bureaucratic machinery of the Waqf Board continues to turn. The question is no longer whether Satheesan can resolve the dispute quickly, but whether he can resolve it at all without the political cost of directly overriding the Waqf Board's decision.
Notable Quotes
On their way out, the government, which had assured the residents of the region that they would not be evicted, acted swiftly by registering the land on the Waqf portal.— Chief Minister V D Satheesan
If the land is established as Waqf property, the residents become encroachers. Consequently, further legal and administrative action becomes difficult.— Chief Minister V D Satheesan
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did the previous government register the land on the Waqf portal if they had promised residents they wouldn't be evicted?
That's the crux of Satheesan's accusation. He's saying it was deliberate—a way to tie the hands of the incoming government and make it harder to fulfill campaign promises. Once land is registered as Waqf property, the legal status of residents changes fundamentally.
But couldn't the new government just reverse that registration using Section 97?
Theoretically, yes. But Satheesan seems reluctant to do it directly. There's political risk in appearing to override the Waqf Board, and there may be legal complications we don't fully understand yet.
So residents are caught between two governments, each blaming the other?
Essentially. The previous government created the legal problem. The current government is promising to solve it but hasn't yet. The residents are the ones living with the uncertainty.
How long has this been going on?
The dispute itself dates back to 1950, but the acute crisis—the part where residents actually face eviction—has been building since 2019, when the Waqf Board made its claim. It's been 413 days of active agitation.
What happens if Satheesan can't deliver on his promise?
Then residents could lose their homes, and the Chief Minister loses credibility. Either way, the dispute becomes a permanent scar on his administration.