The road to salvation in God’s own country

Kerala, that laminated brochure of literacy and civic virtue, has discovered a new grievance–redressal mechanism. When files do not move in government offices, the solution, it appears, is to move to the middle of the road and pray.

At Palakkad’s IMA junction, a woman in her early 60s sat down in white namaz attire and offered prayers on a busy road. Cars slowed, buses negotiated chaos, and scooters practised yoga. The woman later explained that this was not theology but protest – an attempt to highlight a family property dispute that, in her view, nobody was listening to.

A new grievance redressal forum

According to the police, the woman had been making rounds of district administration offices seeking justice in a family property dispute. When doors did not open, and files did not move, she chose a location where movement is guaranteed – the road.

The police listened sympathetically and decided not to book her, citing her age and mental health condition. Her brother was summoned and warned. Order was restored, and traffic resumed.

It works when bureaucracy does not listen

The logic is impeccable. Bureaucracy has the privilege of indifference; traffic does not. Files can gather dust, but vehicles cannot – especially on a busy road at midday. If prayer is a call to be heard, the horn becomes its most faithful amplifier.

Commuters, caught between belief and braking distance – and fraying nerves – slowed down, manoeuvred around the worshipper and waited for the police to do what officials had failed to do.

Public roads are not prayer halls

Predictably, the video of the incident triggered strong reactions online. Many pointed out that public roads are shared civic spaces and cannot be appropriated for personal or religious activities that inconvenience others or compromise safety.

In India, roads are frequently pressed into service for purposes beyond transport – from protests to celebrations – but such use often raises questions about civic discipline and public safety.

The surprise was not the disruption. It was the choice of venue. A mosque existed. A pavement existed. Even a patch of shade existed. None, however, offered the symbolism of a blocked junction.

What the ulema actually say

There is also a religious perspective that merits attention. Islamic scholars have consistently stated that women are encouraged to offer prayers at home, emphasising privacy and dignity.

Maulana Khalid Saifullah Rahmani of the All India Muslim Personal Law Board, among others, has said that unnecessary public display during prayer is discouraged.

Clerical bodies such as Dar ul Uloom Deoband have also clarified that namaz should not be offered in places where it may attract attention or cause inconvenience to others. If ulema doubled up as traffic police, the matter would likely have ended long before the first constable arrived.

Selective piety, selective patience

The Palakkad incident is not without precedent. In several cities, instances of men offering namaz on roads have led to traffic disruptions and public complaints. Police responses have varied depending on circumstances, but the underlying issue remains the same.

The right to practise one’s faith does not include the right to obstruct public movement, block train or aircraft aisles, or disrupt civic order.

Literacy at 100 per cent, civic sense on standby

The episode will now be filed under ‘mentally unwell, no case registered’, allowing everyone to go home without addressing the more uncomfortable question. Why do public roads keep becoming stages for grievance, devotion, and demonstration in a state that prides itself on literacy but struggles with civic discipline?

Perhaps the next government circular should be blunt. File petitions in offices. Offer prayers in places of worship. Keep the road for traffic.