There is a question that deserves to be asked whenever religious stereotypes enter public debate: If Muslims as a community are portrayed as inherently dangerous or associated collectively with terrorism, why do millions of Indians live, work and build businesses in Muslim-majority countries? The question is not theoretical. It is visible every day across the Gulf.
According to the latest figures published by India's Ministry of External Affairs, approximately 4.33 million Indians were residing in the United Arab Emirates, 2.75 million in Saudi Arabia, 1.06 million in Kuwait, 829,000 in Qatar, 675,000 in Oman and 315,000 in Bahrain in 2025–26 through March 2026. Together, these six countries were home to more than 10 million Indian nationals.
These are not merely numbers on a government spreadsheet. They represent nurses and doctors, engineers and technicians, construction workers and drivers, teachers and accountants, entrepreneurs and shopkeepers, managers and professionals. They represent Indian families whose livelihoods are connected to these economies.
India itself maintains extensive labour and manpower arrangements with the Gulf states. The Ministry of External Affairs lists agreements and memoranda concerning manpower and labour cooperation with Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Oman, the UAE, Kuwait and Qatar.
So here is the uncomfortable contradiction that communal stereotyping creates.
If a Muslim employer pays an Indian worker's salary, does that employer become a "good Muslim" simply because the relationship is economically beneficial?
If a Muslim doctor treats an Indian patient, does his religion suddenly cease to matter?
If a Muslim businessman employs hundreds of Indians, should his religion be considered irrelevant in the workplace but threatening somewhere else?
And if an Indian entrepreneur earns money by selling goods or services to Muslim customers, is that Indian entrepreneur somehow "supporting" something merely because the customer is Muslim?
Obviously, such reasoning collapses under its own weight.
People are individuals before they are stereotypes.
A person's religion cannot reasonably be treated as evidence that the person supports terrorism. Terrorism is an act committed by particular people and organisations. Responsibility should therefore be established through evidence of conduct, association, financing, planning or participation—not through a person's religious identity.
The same principle must apply consistently.
If a Hindu commits terrorism, Hindus as a whole should not be treated as terrorists.
If a Muslim commits terrorism, Muslims as a whole should not be treated as terrorists.
If a Christian, Sikh, Buddhist, Jewish or atheist commits a terrorist act, millions of people who share that identity do not inherit the crime.
This distinction is not merely a matter of political correctness. It is a basic principle of individual responsibility.
The Gulf provides an extraordinary real-world example of how ordinary people routinely cross religious boundaries.
An Indian worker does not normally ask the religious identity of every customer before accepting a salary. A doctor does not refuse to treat a patient because the patient follows another faith. A business does not collapse simply because its suppliers, employees and customers come from different religious communities.
Economic life works precisely because human beings are capable of cooperating despite differences.
The Indian diaspora in the Gulf also demonstrates the depth of this relationship. Government data show that the Indian presence there is substantial and longstanding. The scale is particularly striking in the UAE and Saudi Arabia, but significant Indian communities also exist in Kuwait, Qatar, Oman and Bahrain.
There is another important point.
Living and working in a Muslim-majority country does not mean that Indians "support" every policy of that country's government. Nor does doing business with a Muslim individual mean endorsing every political, religious or social belief that person may hold.
This is precisely why the language of collective guilt is so dangerous.
We would not normally argue that every citizen of a country is responsible for every action of its government. We should be equally careful about assigning responsibility for the actions of extremists to everyone who happens to share their religion.
The distinction between Islam, Muslims, Islamist political movements, extremist organisations and individual acts of terrorism matters. These categories cannot simply be merged into one.
Likewise, criticism of a particular government, ideology, organisation or religious interpretation can be legitimate. But criticism becomes something fundamentally different when millions of ordinary people are collectively assigned the characteristics of a tiny number of criminals.
There is also a practical economic reality that is often forgotten in emotional debates.
Indian workers in the Gulf do not merely receive wages. They send money home, support families, pay for education, purchase homes, invest in businesses and contribute to India's economy. India's relationship with the Gulf therefore involves people-to-people connections as well as trade, energy, investment and diplomacy.
The relationship is not one-sided either. Gulf economies depend heavily on foreign workers, including Indians, across numerous sectors.
That does not mean these countries are perfect. Indian migrant workers have faced documented problems, including complaints concerning working conditions and mistreatment, and the Indian government maintains consular and welfare mechanisms to assist citizens abroad.
Recognising these problems is important. But it is equally important not to turn legitimate criticism of labour conditions, governments or institutions into a judgment about an entire religion.
There is a simple test for consistency:
Judge a terrorist by the evidence against the terrorist. Judge a worker by the work he performs. Judge a businessman by his business practices. Judge a neighbour by his conduct.
Religion alone cannot provide that evidence.
The millions of Indians living in Muslim-majority countries offer a powerful everyday reminder of this reality. They work alongside Muslims, employ Muslims, are employed by Muslims, buy from Muslims, sell to Muslims and build businesses with Muslims.
They are not "sponsoring terrorism" simply because their employer, customer or business partner happens to be Muslim.
Nor does a Muslim become a "good Muslim" merely because an Indian earns money from him.
The much simpler explanation is the one that makes the most sense:
Most ordinary people are simply ordinary people.
They want employment, security, dignity, education, family, business opportunities and a better future. Their religion may be important to them, but it does not automatically determine their character or criminality.
If we genuinely want to fight terrorism, we should focus on terrorists.
If we genuinely want justice, we should focus on evidence.
And if we genuinely want a society in which people can live together, we should stop confusing the actions of individuals with the identity of millions.
The Indian presence across the Gulf does not prove that every Muslim is good, any more than the existence of a Muslim terrorist proves that every Muslim is bad.
It proves something much more ordinary—and much more important: human beings routinely cooperate across religious boundaries because their shared humanity, work and everyday interests are larger than stereotypes.
