Monday, October 11, 2010

Muslimspeak: Barabari and Bhagidari or Babri?

For the first time in several years, I became conscious of my Hindu identity. Their uneasiness was palpable, so was their unwillingness to avoid a direct answer.

The much-awaited Babri Masjid verdict is out. But instead of resolving the controversy that has been raging for 60 years, the Allahabad High Court’s verdict has given birth to fresh controversies. I approached some Muslim friends for their reactions to the verdict. The atmosphere was charged but the people subdued; the ice had to be broken first. There were reserved views and measured opinions, some revelations and a few obscurities – there were no visible cracks in the solidarity but that the seed of suspicion in the justice system had been sown was apparent.

The Babri controversy – first the demolition and then the verdict – has left a deep mark on the Muslim psyche. They have not only become acutely conscious of their Muslim minority identities but have also started feeling the need for a proper Muslim body to represent them in Indian politics. “No political party gives our demands and welfare any thought, it’s only the votes they need,” is the general opinion. “So even if we hate the Congress, we have to vote for it to stop the BJP from coming to power.”

Everybody agreed on one point – that the Babri verdict was disappointing. That the court could turn a supposed-to-be-a-myth into a fact of history without proper evidence – the evidence provided by the Archaeological Survey of India has been contested by other prominent historians like Romila Thapar – deeply perturbs them.

Disappointed though with the court’s ‘appease all’ verdict, many students supported it. They feel the court has done a wise thing by dividing the disputed plot. The situation was very tense in many parts of the country before the verdict came out. Had the court ruled in favour of the Muslims, there could have been riots at several places. The verdict, coupled with the repeated appeals by the State for peace and the option of approaching the Supreme Court, helped cool down tempers.

“What we don’t want now is bloodshed. Several lives would have been endangered if the court had ruled in our favour,” said a north Indian student.

A minority of the students chose to look at Justice S.U. Khan as one of them first before considering him as a judge. And if he, a Muslim, had agreed to the fact that the mosque was built on the ruins of a temple, they believe that there is some truth in it. And if it’s built on the ruins of a temple, the entire plot should be given to the Hindus for the construction of a temple and the mosque should be rebuilt somewhere else, they added. Apparently, Justice Khan has ruled that Babri was built on the ruins of a temple, but added that nothing was destroyed.

The first reaction on Babri, when I had first approached the students, was a cautious “Let’s approach the Supreme Court and wait for the judgment.” But as time went by and the students got more involved, they did a volte-face. “Going to the SC is a sheer waste of time and money. By the time the judgment comes out, another 60 years would have passed.”
Reconciliation, to them, seemed a better proposition. But nobody agreed on how to divide the plot where once the Babri Masjid stood. The parties involved, however, would have to approach the settlement very carefully, for they would have to work on a tightrope, and any slip might flare up religious passions.

“In our village nobody knows about Babri and the Ram temple issue.” This comment, coming from a Muslim from a BJP ruled state struck me as something different. “We are more concerned about the exploitation by mine owners than a dispute over a masjid and a temple. I came to hear of the whole issue when I went to Dharwad for my higher studies,” added the student from Bellary district in Karnataka. And he came up with a novel idea – “Why not build a university at the disputed site?”

There were no takers for Union Finance Minister P. Chidambaram’s claim that the post-Babri demolition generation was not concerned about the issue. On the contrary, the students said they were concerned about the matter, though it may not leave any direct affect on their daily lives.

Many people are cautioning against the rise in militancy following the verdict, as in the Godhra case, but it seems that they have categorised and equated the whole Muslim community with insurgents. Students acknowledged the problem but distanced the community from it. There are several illiterate people in India, and hardliners may somehow brainwash them into militancy. But the same could be the case with Hindus.

What was apparent from talking to the students was the failure of the country to be and act as a nation for all its citizens. While some enjoy first class amenities, others are still being treated as second class citizens. Secularism has taken a backseat. The Muslims have been neglected for a long time, and now they are raising their voices for better education and jobs. What they want now is barabari (equality) and bhagidari (equal distribution) in national life. This should come through socio-economic development, but justice on the Babri Masjid issue will return their lost confidence on the concept of equality and sovereignty promised to them by the Indian Constitution.

The Supreme Court or an out of the court settlement, it will take months, or even years, for us to know the final outcome of the issue. For now, it’s a long long wait. Why not try our hands at developing the poorer sections during this time?

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Monsoon magic

I opened my eyes, to magic. It was dark. I was standing on the road, alone. It had rained, the road was wet. I looked up. The leaves were dripping water, and the moon, high up on the sky, smiled at me through the canopy of the leaves. There was a half-rainbow surrounding the moon. A lady started singing in an unknown language. Celtic probably. And a haunting music pierced my heart. I felt I could fly, dance with joy, fall in love, touch the sky. The magic permeated through my body. I lost all senses. I stood there rooted like a statue, confounded, mesmerised, communing with the ultimate force, the raw force, the beautiful one. There at that moment all pain, all sufferings vanished. I was smiling. All my wishes were fulfilled. I had no wish, no wants left. I was at peace with myself, at peace with nature, the world, with everybody. I closed my eyes. I fell asleep.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Romancing Nature



Let the rain come down and wash away my tears

Let it fill my soul and drown my fears.

Celine Dion


The sun has set. The sky is a murky blue now, so is the sea. The only light seems to be coming from the white sands, their glow ebbing slowly with the end of the day.


I stood there, alone, all tiny and awed. The strong monsoon wind, annoyed at my defiance, tried to blow me out of its path with all its fierceness. The gushing waves seemed excited at the smell of fresh blood, ready to crush and drown and devour me for a snack. They ended at my feet, whining and gurgling before being carried away by the returning current.


On the shore, pine trees stood huddled in the dark, swinging their heads and hands and talking among themselves. They were the witches, straight out of Macbeth, hatching some sinister plot to sow seeds of uncertainty in another brave mind.


I stood there on the shore, my hands outstretched along my sides. I took a deep breath, felt the moisture-laden salty sea-breeze hitting my lungs, let my head roll backwards as much as it could and stood there, on the shore, with my eyes closed.


I was alone, I was free, I was happy.


The cold water hit my face. I was standing under the shower, getting ready for office. Was I daydreaming? Am I late? I start washing the soap off my body. I must hurry up. I can’t be late to office today again.


I look out of the bathroom window. The summer sky is now a pale blue. The aging forest has lost its fresh green to growing yellow and brown balding patches. I could see smoke curling up from a part of the forest; signs of another forest fire. Monsoon is still three months away.


Another day, another evening. I was on the beach. I was playing chase-and-catch-me with a small black dog that I had befriended on my way to the beach. A group of guys were playing cricket. Must be the four who are staying at the same guesthouse where I am putting up. I haven’t seen anyone else on this beach in the last two days. Nice shot. Can I play cricket after all these years? Should I ask them?


A stinging torrent of big, fat raindrops took me by surprise. Oh my mobile! I tried to shield my mobile from the rain by covering it with my hands. No use. The cold drops were assaulting me with all their might. The dog ran away. The other guys, too, ran for cover.


I stood there, spellbound, getting soaked to my bones. The rejuvenating raindrops washed off the dirt, the stress, the uncertainty, the pain, resurrecting the person within me.


The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. I was dripping wet, yet my mind was as clear as the blue sky after the rain. I was happy again, and fresh.


(Tarkarli, the white-sand beach which inspired me to write this piece, is in Konkan, about 100 km from
Goa and 540 km from Mumbai. The picture above is of another, Ganpatipule, also in Maharashtra.)