What Happened To You?

Last week, my colleague read the Instagram post* I had written on the occasion of inauguration of the Ram temple in Ayodhya, and in context of that post she asked me “what had happened to you?” Another old acquaintance pinged me and said they have not paid much attention, but would like to educate themselves now; so can I help them? After much mulling over the spaces I occupy and people I spend my time with, I have come to the conclusion that it is not possible for me to resonate or meaningfully build relationships with people who are not in the same time zone as me. This is an important self-reflection because I have spent so much time feeling out of place, lost and perplexed when it came to my social interactions in the last few years. This realisation came to me when I met a motley group of people I had known only virtually but I didn’t have to explain myself to them. They already knew where “I was coming from.” 

The fact that all of us cannot agree that India is a totalitarian, anti-minority country in present day and this imbalance of power has seeped into our workplaces, residential colonies, schools, hospitals, restaurants et al is an inequality in itself. It is an inequality of shared reality. An inequality of people’s lived experiences becoming less relevant and therefore, rising intolerance of other human beings inside the borders of what we call India. This is not to say that my colleague is intolerant or that my acquaintance didn’t have good intent. This is to say that asking such questions after a decade of watching the slow descent of our country into saffronised hegemony is a signpost of gross injustice in the social fabric of our nation. For an entire decade, some Indians have had the luxury of looking away, while others have faced constant othering and intolerance for simply being who they are. We have to stop pretending that the violence and rhetoric didn’t happen, and it didn’t affect the people you meet every single day. If we can’t agree that we live in this time zone, we will automatically not be able to start off a new journey of knowing each other or building a better future. 

I have actively chosen not to write about this rise of fascism from my perspective on my blog because, let’s face it, I have been afraid for my life. For so many years, I have been afraid for just existing as a Muslim in Indian spaces. I have watched erstwhile friends, colleagues, and acquaintances on the Internet spew hateful ideas about me and my faith, and support a hard-liner regime so passionately. They have been celebrated for their views, and gotten away with being so publicly vile it is nauseating. It has been difficult to be on the receiving end of this. I have left Facebook and WhatsApp after seeing so much distasteful content posted by people in my own surroundings. I have been told to my face that I am not worth speaking to, have lost friends who stopped talking to me, had people at work whispering about me and my friends telling me about this; and have been told by governments and upheld by institutions what I can and cannot eat, how I can and cannot appear in public, where I can and cannot stay. The constant vilification of Muslims while simultaneously weaponising Hinduism for the regular junta has been the mainstay of Indian politics for a decade now. It has grown in momentum and reached a crescendo of overt loathing that has its origins in maimed, heinous hearts devoid of faith and empathy. And even after this, if we cannot agree that something went horribly wrong in our country, and Muslims have been on the receiving end of it, then we have a problem of shared humanity.

While I understand that privilege ensconced those who are unable to agree on the Indian zeitgeist, I also know that it is not on me to educate people about their privilege. In fact, it is not my responsibility to give people the vocabulary they need to bring back the central conversation of shared humanity. It is always on those with the least to lose to uplift those who are being targeted. Most people scoff, “It is politics.” Well, this politics has affected me and how I live on a personal level, it has invaded into my friendships, and my into home. Politics is why my childhood friend’s daughter came home one day and said to her that all Muslims should go to Pakistan. My friend and her husband had to teach their little girl that these ideas are not true, not for her to hold. Therefore, the argument that politics is not central to how we live every single day is laughable to me. There is a reason our Civics exam is just for 10 marks and the textbook is so thin, one couldn’t even kill a mosquito with it.

Every little thing from how our transport functions, how much tax you pay on a packet of biscuit, what you can and cannot learn in school, how your company will deduct your tax at source, how your food will be supplied to your city, whether or not you can marry someone you love easily, what language you can speak, how much you can pay for an airline ticket, and how clean your air can be is determined by politics. There is a direct line of connection between the rhetoric of powerful politicians and the way we get treated and what ideas we uphold in all social spaces, including our homes. If you can’t see it, you’re sitting on a really high bed of privilege. I don’t use the word powerful with a positive connotation. Power is synonymous with evil. It has always been. The fables say it, history says it, legend has it. Power has never been a blessing. It is always a curse. 

In writing, it is always said that a writer should not state the obvious. However, the obvious is now so suffocated by the poison of hatred injected into this country, it must be said — every single one of us as a human, has a right to exist. It is also our duty to let others live with the same dignity we seek for ourselves. This is the axiom of living. Do unto others as you would have them done unto you. This is another axiom of living. In India, the core of humanity has been shred to pieces and only some of us are holding up hope. That basic decency of word and action must be instilled in the populace of this country again is a measure that we have failed who we are as humans. That we shy away from calling out what is humanly wrong is a failing of us being alive — whether it be discrimination on the basis of gender, faith, language, economic status, or even caste and colour. It is deeply saddening to see that not only have all these ideals been given up at the centre of our legislation and judiciary, they have also been given up on inter-personal level. Look around you and tell me you don’t see these lines of division. They exist everywhere in a blatant disregard for equality, for humanity. 

So, here’s what “happened to me”. I got tired of pretending that none of this happened, of feeling out of place, and of gaslighting my own self about what I have seen happen in my country. I also got tired of being afraid to write about this and being constantly told that things are not as bad as they seem. Alas, things are way worse that what they seem because not everyone agrees that our country’s soul lies in tatters. At the risk of stating the obvious once again — I am a firm believer in the construct of a secular India and the right of all Indians (nay humans) to live side by side with dignity and share the journey of being alive however they wish as long as they’re not threatening the freedom of others to rightfully exist. As my old friend once very rightfully put it — your right to move your fist stops short of my face. 

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*The Instagram Post In Question:

It has been 10 years so it must be said — as a country we have been through too much hate against Muslims. Islamophobia in India is so normalised that we have forgotten basic manners of how to engage with each other, how to celebrate festivals, how to eat our food. Anyone who still disagrees with this is purposely blindfolded or a bigot. 

Over the last 10 years I’ve been in numerous arguments, received lot of online and in person hate, have learnt and unlearnt a lot about living in a democracy and about my own faith, and have received solidarity from most of my Hindu friends. (I have also lost some Hindu friends along the way.) 

Today marks the day when everything in this country going forward is a reflection of us Indians as humans. We have crossed the bridge where we had the chance to redeem ourselves. That ship has sailed. Now, either you stand for secularism in action, deed, and speech or you don’t. There are no two ways about this.

Whatever bad happens forward from here on is because of those who cheered on his hateful regime. Whatever good happens because of those who stood with Indian Muslims in solidarity. 

Our roots run deep. They say fascists don’t survive for long. All those who stand in solidarity are a hopeful that a time of redemption will come. And it won’t be based on revenge. This I have learnt from the Palestinians. The Quran says that evil doesn’t need someone to preside over and pronounce justice; evil meets its own end in its own way. So, here’s to evil meeting its own end in its own way. We will sit aside and let the river run its course. 

Onward. 🇮🇳