Kathmandu’s Muslim community usually gathers at the Kashmiri Jama Masjid in Jamal for Jummah, or Friday prayers. But not all Muslims feel welcome at the landmark mosque.

Followers of the Ahmadiyya sect of Islam, the Ahmadis, say they prefer to keep to themselves because they don’t want to “stir any trouble.”

“It’s not that we’ve received any outright threats against our community here,” said Sajeel Ghouri, representative of the Ahmadiyya Nepal Sangh. “It’s just that we don’t know what they may do if they find out we’re Ahmadis.”

The Ahmadiyya Muslim community was founded by Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, an Indian religious leader, in 1889. The Ahmadis believe him to be the promised messiah, or messenger, a belief that puts them at odds with other mainstream Muslims, and has resulted in their persecution in several countries, including Pakistan, Indonesia and Malaysia.

In Nepal too, the community whose history can be traced to the mid-1990s, has faced some backlash. Older members recounted to the Post how they were subject to harassment at the hands of their neighbours who deemed them ‘infidels’. But they are also quick to point out that these incidents are a thing of the past and they no longer have issues with any other community.  

“People initially thought that Ahmadis were removing Muslims from Islam,” said Qamrul Huda Ansari, a Birgunj resident, who said that he had to relocate to a different village due to mistreatment by other villagers. “But I think these misconceptions have now been cleared and we no longer face the type of harassment that we did earlier.”

Less than 5 percent of Nepal’s population is Muslim and of that, Ahmadis make up less than 0.00008 percent. According to the association’s estimates, around 800 Ahmadis live in the country. A quarter of them are refugees from Pakistan who fled the country fearing persecution.

“In Pakistan, we were not allowed to read the Quran, perform the Namaz or call Azaan,” said Wazia Iqbal, a Pakistani Ahmadi, who came to Kathmandu nearly seven years ago. “But here, we can practice our religion without any fear.”

Pakistan outlawed the sect with a series of constitutional amendments and ordinances passed between 1974 to 1984. Under Pakistani law, Ahmadis are not allowed to call themselves Muslims. Doing so can land them in jail. Ahmadis also face several barriers in obtaining government identification and travel documents. When applying for these documents, Pakistani citizens have to declare non-allegiance to the founder of the sect.

Nearly all the men and women the Post spoke to said they felt safe in Nepal. An elderly Pakistani woman who had recently arrived in the country would not stop gushing about the loving nature of Nepalis.

“Everyone smiles at us, greets us,” said the woman. “It feels incredibly nice to be here.”

While the Ahmadi community in Nepal says that they have found safe haven here and have no fear of being persecuted for their faith, they are troubled by economic challenges. It is particularly difficult for those from Pakistan, as they do not have any legal status here.

Nepal is not signatory to the UN Convention on Refugees and has granted refugee status to only the Bhutanese and Tibetan populations. It considers asylum seekers from all other countries, including Pakistan, to be “illegal immigrants.”

“A lot of us are struggling to survive,” said Iqbal, who used to work as a homeopathic doctor in Pakistan. “Because we do not possess any legal documentation, it’s difficult for us to find work here.”

The majority of Pakistani Ahmadis living in Kathmandu, thus, end up working as daily wage labourers. A lot of them do not want to talk to journalists because of the way they’ve been negatively portrayed in previous reports, said community leaders.

The community, however, feels grateful towards the Nepali government.

“We are very thankful to the government for supporting our community,” said Ghouri, the association president. “They have been extremely kind to us.”

On a recent Friday afternoon, in the month of Ramadan, a small group of Ahmadis numbering around 70, convened at a bungalow-turned-mosque in Mandikatar, a neighbourhood in the northern part of the city, for their Jumaah.

At exactly 1.15pm, Sameen Ahmed, the young Imam, took the mic and made a final call for prayer. Shortly after, he began his sermon.

“If you’re good at everything but don’t have good relationships at home, then you’re failing,” preached Ahmed. “You have to first make peace at home, treat your children and wife well.”

Ahmed, 36, is originally from Parsa district. He recently moved to the city along with his wife and four children after being appointed Imam by the Ahmadi association.

“I take notes from his Holiness’ weekly sermon and then share the same message during our Friday prayers,” said Ahmed, referring to Mirza Masroor Ahmed, the current leader of the Ahmadiyya Muslim community.

Although the religious leader’s sermons are broadcast live every Friday evening on a television channel operated by the association, preachers say, repeating his message helps reinforce it in the minds of worshippers.

“It’s a single voice that gets echoed to the Ahmadi community across the world,” said Ahmed.

After the session ended, the women hugged each other and caught up on their lives. For most, the Friday prayers are the only time they get to see each other.

“We all came from different cities in Pakistan, none of us knew each other before,” said Iqbal. “Here, we have become one big family.”