By Rihaab Mowlana

Tourism conferences rarely leave room for emotion. They’re usually about numbers - arrivals, targets, and growth percentages - the language of industry rather than empathy. But inside the Sabah Room at Kuala Lumpur’s World Trade Centre, the tone felt different.

It was a smaller space, tucked away from the main halls of the Global Travel Meet 2025, where Malaysia’s biggest tourism conversations were unfolding. And yet, this was where one of the most meaningful ones took place.

When Anis Ramli took the stage, the room softened. Her session on Muslim-Friendly Tourism and Hospitality (MFTH) wasn’t a pitch; instead, it was a perspective. “Islamic tourism,” she said, “is not exclusive; it is inclusive.” It wasn’t the loudest moment of the three-day event, but it might have been the most important.

Malaysia’s Islamic Tourism Centre (ITC) has been quietly championing this idea for years. It’s the country’s think tank for inclusive travel, shaping how culture, commerce, and conscience can coexist. Through initiatives like the Muslim-Friendly Assurance and Recognition (MFAR) programme - which certifies hotels and airlines - and the Muslim-Friendly Tourist Guide (MFTG) training, ITC has turned awareness into infrastructure. Islamic Tourism Month, Mosque Tourism, and events like Iftar@KL extend that vision beyond the industry, blending everyday life with cultural exchange.

The approach feels systematic yet human. Structure built around sensitivity. Malaysia, through ITC, isn’t simply trying to lead Muslim-friendly travel. It’s trying to redefine what hospitality looks like when you think of people before product.

Across the Region, the Details Tell the Story

Listening to Anis, I found myself thinking back to Thailand, where I stayed a few years ago - a Buddhist-majority country that has, remarkably, learned how to welcome Muslim travellers without ever compromising its own identity. In every hotel I stayed in, the Qibla direction was marked neatly on the ceiling. A Qur’an sat beside the hotel directory. On the streets, halal food stalls stood shoulder to shoulder with others, proudly labelled and easily found. Across the country, every hotel I stayed in had that same attention to detail. Small gestures that made faith feel considered, not accommodated. None of it felt tokenistic. It was simply part of the rhythm of daily life and proof that hospitality doesn’t always need translation.

And then there’s Singapore, where systems meet empathy in almost surgical precision. In some food courts, halal orders are served on different-coloured plates with separate utensils, a level of care that’s both subtle and profound. It’s practical, yes, but it’s also symbolic. It says: we see you, and we’ve thought of you.

These gestures may seem small, but they carry weight. They’re quiet assurances that turn unfamiliar places into spaces of belonging. And they’re a reminder that inclusion isn’t charity, it’s awareness turned into action.

Besides, the global Muslim travel market is projected to reach over 230 million travellers by 2028, and these nations are positioning themselves at the forefront by doing something remarkably simple: listening.

Closer to Home

As someone from Sri Lanka, it’s hard not to look at this shift and feel both inspired and reflective. We’ve always been known for our warmth, the kind that makes travellers feel instantly welcome. But warmth alone doesn’t guarantee belonging. What Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore have realised is that inclusivity doesn’t dilute culture; it deepens it.

For destinations built on tourism, it’s a reminder that hospitality isn’t about offering everything. It’s about understanding everyone.

Inclusion, after all, isn’t just about compliance; it’s about comfort. A visible Qibla marker, a labelled menu, a prayer room at an attraction, these are the quiet reassurances that transform a good trip into a great one. They don’t dilute culture; they elevate it.

Sri Lanka, with its deep-rooted pluralism, is perfectly positioned to lead this conversation. We already host travellers seeking spirituality, wellness, and cultural immersion. What we need now is an infrastructure that mirrors our values. one that says to every traveller, we see you, and we’ve thought of you.

A Broader Vision of Travel

Back at the Global Travel Meet, as Anis wrapped up her talk, the words on the screen behind her read: “Enhancing Ties, Enriching Knowledge.” It struck me how quietly revolutionary that idea was. That tourism, often dismissed as commerce, could also be a bridge.

Malaysia, through its Islamic Tourism Centre, is proving that inclusivity isn’t an add-on; it’s a foundation. And for countries like ours, watching from the sidelines of an ever-evolving industry, the message is clear: the future of travel belongs to those who make space for everyone in the journey.

As I stepped out of the hall that day, the air outside was thick with humidity and hope. The event buzzed with deals and data, but what lingered with me wasn’t the scale; it was the sentiment. That somewhere in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, a new kind of tourism was being built: one that leads with empathy and welcomes the world, one traveller at a time.