At a time when religion often divides and headlines spread hate, some stories shine like quiet lights of hope. The stories of Asgar Ali from Rajasthan and T. Safeer from Kerala remind us of the India that lives in kindness, not conflict. Their actions show that humanity is still stronger than hate—and that being truly Indian means standing by each other, no matter the faith.
In two separate incidents—one from Bhilwara in Rajasthan, and another from Thiruvananthapuram, in the deep south—Muslim men came forward to perform the last rites of abandoned Hindu women. They did not do this for fame or praise, but simply because they saw these women as mothers, as humans, as part of their own hearts and broader eco-system of shared existence.
Story One: Bhilwara – a mother’s love beyond relig
According to a Dainik Bhaskar report, in Jangi Chowk, a small neighbourhood in Gandhi Nagar, Bhilwara, lived 67-year-old Shanti Devi. She had no one—her three daughters and a son had all passed away before her, in 2018. For the past 15 years, she had been staying alone, renting a room in the house of Salim Qureshi. Her neighbours, especially the youth in the area, saw her as a loving, motherly figure.
She was unwell for a long time and was admitted to Mahatma Gandhi Hospital, where a young Muslim man, Asgar Ali, took care of her. On September 14, 2025, she passed away during treatment.
Who would perform her last rit
After her death, one question filled the air with silence: “Who will do her last rites? Who will lift her bier? Who will light the funeral pyre?”
There was no family around to carry out the rituals. But there were people—not by blood, but by bond.
Asgar Ali Khan, along with Ashfaq Qureshi, Shakir Pathan, Firoz Qureshi Kancha, Abid Qureshi, Asgar Pathan, Inayat, Jabid Qureshi, and other local youths stepped in.
These were all young Muslim men who had grown up seeing Shanti Devi as more than a neighbour. To them, she was “Ammi”, the mother who cared, who asked if they had eaten, who prayed for them during tough times.
“We carried her like our own m
The group prepared for her funeral with care and respect. By the evening, a few distant relatives of Shanti Devi arrived from Madhya Pradesh, but the heart of the ceremony belonged to the young men who had already stepped into the role of sons.
“Since I was three or four years old, Shanti Devi gave me love like a mother. Even during Covid, she asked about my health every day. When she passed away, it felt like my own mother had left me,” — Asgar Ali, as Bhaskar reported
They carried her body on their shoulders, arranged a hearse, and took her to the crematorium. There, they performed the last rites strictly according to Hindu customs, lighting the pyre and chanting “Ram Naam Satya Hai”—a chant they had heard a thousand times at other funerals, but this time it came from their own hearts.
“We will immerse her ashes at Triveni Sangam or Matrikundia, as per her wishes,” — Asgar Ali
The neighbors—especially women who lived near Shanti Devi—couldn’t hold back tears. One said, “No son could have done more than what these boys did for her” as reported
Story Two: Thiruvananthapuram – a son by choice, not blood
Down south, in Kadinamkulam village, 44-year-old Rakhi, a woman from Chhattisgarh, was living in a Christian rehabilitation centre for people with mental illness. She was recovering well, but cancer had taken over her body.
As she neared her final moments, Rakhi expressed a simple, emotional wish that “When I go, please perform my last rites according to Hindu traditions.”
But Rakhi had no known relatives. She couldn’t even recall her home address. With no family to perform the final rites, the caretakers turned to a familiar and compassionate face—T. Safeer, a Muslim panchayat member from the area.
“My religion teaches me to respect the dead”
Safeer didn’t hesitate. Despite being a devout Muslim, he said“When someone has such a last wish, we must do everything we can.”
“My religion has taught me to give final respect to every human being, whether family or stranger” — T. Safeer, Panchayat Member, The Mooknayak reported
He contacted the local crematorium in Kazhakoottam, learned the rituals, and performed every custom with full sincerity. From dressing the body to lighting the pyre, Safeer stood alone—yet as a son would. Even the local Imam of his mosque supported him.
“This is not against Islam. In fact, it’s the very essence of it—to honour the dead,” — Local Imam
Remarkably, this was not Safeer’s first such act. Just two weeks earlier, he had performed the funeral rites of another abandoned Hindu woman from the same centre.
Two stories, one message: huma
From the deserts of Rajasthan to the backwaters of Kerala, these two stories are not just rare exceptions—they are reminders of our shared heritage.
In Bhilwara, a group of young Muslim men carried a Hindu woman like their own mother.
In Thiruvananthapuram, a Muslim panchayat worker became a son to a dying woman who had no one. In both cases, there was no social media campaign, no publicity, and no expectations of reward. There was just humanity—pure, simple, and powerful.
These men didn’t see themselves as Muslims doing a Hindu’s last rites. They saw themselves as sons fulfilling the final duty to their mother.
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