“India in Jerusalem”: The Hidden Legacy of the Indian Zawiya

In 1973, amid an intensified Israeli settlement campaign, the zawiya stood abandoned and vulnerable to seizure. To protect it, the al-Ansari family invited the Riyad al-Aqsa schools to use it temporarily. This act, supported by prominent Jerusalemite figures, safeguarded the space from confiscation. The schools operated there for 15 years before the family undertook a massive restoration project.

With full support from the Indian government, the al-Ansari family launched a five-stage restoration plan to bring the zawiya back to life. Nazir returned from Saudi Arabia, where he was working as a civil engineer at the time, and assumed responsibility for the project. The main building had been bombed; the dome collapsed, and the entire structure crumbled into the basement, burying many of his family members in the rubble during one of the attacks.

The al-Ansari family dismantled the zawiya stone by stone, meticulously numbering and documenting each piece. After constructing reinforced concrete walls, they returned each stone to its exact original location. Even the domes, tiled in traditional style, were restored in Hebron to match their historic look.

The restoration took eight years. Today, the zawiya stands as it once did—a blend of Islamic, Indian, and Palestinian architectural heritage.

In addition to its spiritual role, a wing of the zawiya was used by the Red Cross, then the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Reufgees (UNRWA), to house refugees in the wake of the 1948 War. It went on to become an UNRWA clinic that was essential for Jerusalem’s residents, especially after the closure of the Hospice Hospital on Wadi Street. Elderly residents still remember waiting in its corridors for care. Hajj Abu Jibril, a 75-year-old from the Sa‘diyya neighborhood, says “this corner is part of my childhood and my neighborhood. My son, we have beautiful memories here.”3 The clinic was recently forced to close by Israeli authorities as part of their push to eliminate UNRWA from working in Israel and the occupied territories altogether.

A Jerusalem activist described the clinic as a “living text,”4 not just a place of treatment but a site of community solidarity where medical staff shared in the social and national struggles of the people.

When Indian ambassador Navtej Sarna visited the corner in 2008 during his first week in Tel Aviv, he told Nazir, “you have a jewel in Jerusalem.”5 Inspired by the place, he later wrote a book titled Indians at Herod’s Gate: A Jerusalem Tale (Rupa Publications, 2014), which has since been translated into Arabic and is now being rendered into Hindi. Ambassadors, religious leaders, and historians have all walked through the zawiya’s green gate—a rare feature whose design hints at the long history of the place.

The zawiya comprises a mosque, a residence, and reception areas. While it is not open to the public to preserve its condition, it continues to receive official Indian delegations. Whenever they arrive, the family raises the Indian flag over Jerusalem.

The late Faisal al-Husseini held three meetings with Indian officials in the zawiya, and to every delegation, Nazir says: “Welcome to India in Jerusalem.”

When asked if Nazir suffers from a split identity—part Jerusalemite, part Indian—he laughs. “I am a Jerusalemite to the core. I am madly in love with this city. When my children were young, I took them on weekly tours through the Old City. They came to know every alley and stone.”

At the same time, he is proud of his Indian roots, but his culture is Jerusalemite. He serves the zawiya for the sake of Jerusalem and to preserve its history. Politics is not his family’s concern; the zawiya is.

Dr. Yousef al-Natsheh, historian and director of the Center for Jerusalem Studies at Al-Quds University, says the Indian Corner—also known as the Rifa‘i Zawiya or Baba Farid’s Zawiya—is “a testament to the diversity of Jerusalem’s social fabric and the depth of Indo-Islamic ties.”6 He notes that it occupies a strategically significant location, facing the Mount of Olives, and that it has been mentioned in the writings of medieval historians like Mujir al-Din al-Hanbali.

Ambassador Sarna even confirmed the zawiya’s historic location through the writings of famed Ottoman traveler Evliya Çelebi, who in his Seyahatname (literary form and tradition) wrote, “when we entered Bab al-Sahira, they told us that to the right of the door was an Indian Sufi sheikh who had a corner.”7

The Indian Corner in Jerusalem is not just a building. It is a centuries-old link between two civilizations, a sanctuary for seekers, and a symbol of cultural resilience. Despite conflict, disrepair, and time itself, the zawiya remains standing—stone by stone—as a witness to history, faith, and the quiet power of remembrance.

It is, indeed, a jewel in Jerusalem.

At one time, Jerusalem was home to 22 zawiyas—small religious lodges and Sufi corners that welcomed pilgrims, scholars, and seekers. Only one remains: the Indian Corner. Its survival is due not to chance, but to devotion, diplomacy, and dogged reconstruction—a testament to generations of the al-Ansari family who have overseen it since 1924.

In its earliest incarnation, the zawiya was part of a network of Indian corners named after the cities their caretakers came from—Delhi, Kashmir, and others. Eventually, one Indian sheikh, recognizing the historic importance of this particular zawiya as the site of Baba Farid’s residence, consolidated them all under its roof. He began purchasing land, trading plots to expand its grounds until the complex covered over seven dunams—a green hill in the heart of the Old City, known as the Hill of Bin Hassan.

Today, the Indian Corner is a protected sanctuary. While the mosque and reception areas are not open to the public, they regularly receive Indian officials and dignitaries. “Every Indian foreign minister since 1995 has visited the corner,” Nazir says. “Every Indian official, regardless of their schedule, comes here.”

The corner also symbolizes something greater, as expressed by Faris Ansari, Nazir‘s son, in a recent article written for Homegrown World:

The zawiya is not only a site of international diplomacy and historic reverence; it is deeply woven into the daily life of Jerusalemites. Residents of the surrounding Sa‘diyya neighborhood still speak of the zawiya with warmth and a sense of ownership.

“This corner is part of my childhood,” says Hajj Abu Jibril. “It also housed the agency [UNRWA] clinic—the only health center we had after the Hospice Hospital closed. We would walk and frolic in its corridors, waiting to see the doctor or nurse.”

A local activist reflects more deeply: “the Indian Corner clinic is more than a clinic—it is a living text. A record of refugees’ collective memory. A place where pain and hope meet. It is not only for treatment—it is a center of dignity.”

In an age where so much of the Old City has changed—its stories lost, its streets renamed, its people displaced—the Indian Corner stands resilient, its walls whispering histories of pilgrimage, war, peace, and devotion. Nazir al-Ansari, ever smiling, keeps those stories alive—one visitor, one stone, one flag at a time.