Emotionally Speaking

The following essay was submitted to the Indian Express and Citizens for Peace annual Essay Competition 2007. The topic was ‘living with differences.’ It did not win any prize or any special mention. I just thought it might be suffocating in my archives. So, I am giving it some air here as I release it to you. Read it; it’s interesting read on Secularism, Muslims etc. I have not edited it in any way. I will post all my writings when I  have time. Please bring English errors/typos to my notice. Corrigendum: The word ‘highfalutin’ in the third paragraph is incorrect use. The error is regretted.

“Katua Hai Kya Be?!” [Are you Circumcised?]

This query-cum-exclamation was hurled at me by a domineering batch mate in class XI – Ajeet. I was an introvert and rarely mingled with others including this bully who took offence at the difference. I didn’t knew the meaning of ‘katua’ (also, I am a Hindu).  I didn’t react to it. I learnt its meaning many years later at the Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU). Also, once in class X, I had jokingly addressed Deepak Pandey as “Miyan Deepak”. The prefix proved to be a red rag to a bull. He had virtually thrashed me as he kept shouting, “how dare I called him miyan?!”

The above rang in my mind when I read the exhortation by the Citizens for Peace and jumped to the opportunity to share my experiences and musings on ‘living with differences’.

As an adolescent  I was an ignoramus who didn’t know about the birds and bees let alone the highfalutin concepts like secularism and democracy thanks to the ‘rote-memory oriented’ education.

An imposing Gurudwara was 100 metres from my home. I used to look at it curiously (more so when the entrance door was ajar). The Punjabis celebrated their festivals with pomp and razzmatazz. Observing these Punjabis, I had inferred that all Punjabis are rich and Punjab must be the land of real prosperity.

On the auspicious day of Chhath Pooja, the road was chock-a-block with devotees. Our Punjabi neighbours would lavishly contribute bananas and other goodies in the devotees’ baskets, running after them, painstakingly ensuring that none were missed! I never had guessed that this was the ‘unity in diversity’ enshrined in the constitution and maintained by these Punjabis!

As a child I used to fly kites in the small field near my home. On one such occasion I was accosted by Bambad- a local bully, dark and ugly, who slapped me for violating his space. I sheepishly went back home and didn’t share my disgrace with anyone. Unfortunately, a neighbourhood girl saw the same and sang it to my ‘Mother India’ who dragged me to Bambad’s home, called his parents who in turn called Bambad, made a scence, smacked Bambad a number of times and me too for being a ‘coward’. Among other things, she was off that I didn’t resist a “Chhoti Jaat” (Bambad was a dalit). I didn’t understand what it meant just as I had not understood what my father had meant when he once told me that Tiwaris (Brahmins) looked down upon us (Baniyas). I had to willy-nilly listen to the Rozgar Samachar between the weekend movie on Doordarshan.  I used to wonder what was meant by the oft-repeated terms – Anusuchit jati/janajati.

Md. Shahid was the only Muslim in my class. Pondering upon this fact and his starched uniform, mannerisms and his beautiful handwriting, I had concluded that the Muslims are few and rich! My mother narrated me once the “true story” of a young Hindu boy who saved his Muslim friend by providing him shelter in his home at night during riots and safely escorted the friend to the latter’s home in the morning. Once home, the friend and other Muslims lynched the Hindu boy!

After my +2, I landed in Delhi where I came across many Chinese and Japanese who, I was later told, were “Chinkis”! The same year I went to Bhopal for the SSB interviews and hesitatingly entered the mosque near my camp. I went inside and instinctively folded my hands in prayer (as if it were a temple)! I thanked God that nobody had witnessed the gaff. To mark the special occasion, I put a 10- rupees note in the donation box. Imam Saab met me once I was out, offered me peanuts and elaborated on the need for religious tolerance and brotherhood (as testified by my presence). I was elated and felt a new responsibility on my shoulders.I later joined JNU which opened my eyes to India’s pluralism like never before. JNU made me discover my frog-in-the-well existence and showed how India was beautifully polka-dotted by differences.

I made many Muslim friends in JNU – Kalim, Khesal, Wasi, Azimullah; to name a few. Kalim informed that one of the popular slogans of the Hindu fundamentalists is – Jab katue kate jaenge, to Ram Ram chillaenge! He laughed like a drain as he said it and I joined him after few seconds of hesitation! Khesal would offer namaz 5 times a day without fail (I would never trespass a namazi because I have seen Sunny advising Juhi against it in Arjun Pandit)!

On the day of Godhara,  a group of students in the JNU campus had rallied and shouted – Aurangjeb ki aulado, Bharat chhodo! Kalim told me that my feisty professor – Zoya Hasan – had boldly stood facing them outside her home! They say once Ashok Singhal came to JNU and there was a huge hullabaloo which is only matched by Prof. Geelani’s visit to the campus which I have witnessed.

Once a presidential candidate of a right wing party was asked during the debate in JNU the meaning of their leitmotif “Sanskritik Rashtravaad”. He became nervous, trembled with fear and couldn’t speak on it leave alone elaborate and ended up being the laughing stock of JNU!

In an Iftar Party in Periyar hostel, I recall some students devouring the delicacies with a vengeance who also suggested me to eat like a pig “their” free food. One of them (who is now a lecturer with Delhi University) had virtually ordered a Muslim guy – Suno idhar, Jalebi aur Pakoda aur lao! They experienced some pleasure in the fact that these Muslims were at their beck and call, running errands for them.

During the last general elections, I had phoned my home specifically to tell them not to vote for a popular right wing party. After the elections, I was disturbed by the uproar over Sonia’s possible elevation as PM. I wrote a poem defending her which is unpublished like all my poems/writings. By the way my first poem was on Ambedkar.

As I am writing the draft of this essay in the reading room of my hostel, I am introduced to a Pakistani who says his roommate is foul-mouthed. Incidentally the roommate is from the Northeast. I joined Mustafa and others in suggesting him not to stereotype Indians on that basis. I made an extra effort in suggesting him also not to stereotype the Northeast. A Manipuri friend once told me that the mess staff in the hostel used to treat him very warmly (which reflected in the portions of food served to him) as long as they believed he was from the South Korea. When truth descended upon the staff, he was given a step-motherly treatment!

Yaseer, a senior student of JNU, once tried unsuccessfully talking to a beautiful Hindu girl. “Mein Muslim ladko se baat nahi karti”, he was told! Everyone is speculating whether Salauddin, my neighbour, will be able to marry his Hindu girlfriend. Azimullah follows Quran in letter (if not spirit). Anima, his beloved, converted to Islam because Azim will not marry a non Muslim!

Wasiul Haque says he was peeved when a patriot of Bharat Mata would look around like a Chameleon to find out if the TV room had any ‘traitor’(read Muslim) who could be enjoying the Indian baller hit for a six. This patriot would deliberately clap for a long time whenever a Pak batsman fell. Wasi, in the next inning, had wittingly clapped when an Indian wicket fell to cause heartburn to the patriot! I have told Wasi that I will join him in the ‘fake celebrations’ in the next Indo-Pak match. From cricket matches to “Bharat me jo rehna hoga, Vande Mataram kehna hoga”, a Muslim’s life is adjustment in more ways than one.

I recall reading in the Hindu (24.06.2003) how majority of trainee civil servants (training academy, Mussorie, 58th batch probationers, documented by Praful Bidwai) had celebrated the demolition of the Babri mosque on the night of 6 December, 1992!

JNU is a brilliant mosaic of differences. It once had thriving organizations for gay rights-Anjuman and Parwaz. There is this story about one Mr. L, a ‘normal’ male, who made friends in Anjuman and Parwaz solely to get close to the beautiful female members. This guy (un)fortunately was once caught alone with a diehard gay in the latter’s room. After a warm-up dance, Mr. Gay shed his inhibitions (and clothes) and called forth Laxman to do the needful. Laxman shuddered and showed a clean pair of heels before you can say Jack Robinson! Honeymoon over, he returned to the ‘mainstream’ (to be the butt of jokes)!

To conclude, ‘Variety’ is the spice of life and differences are the hallmark of Indian existence. Without differences, life would be boring, very boring. Doomed are those who do not like different people and cultures.

When new in JNU, the sight of strewn pubic hair in the bathroom (discarded by devout Muslims) was my eyesore. Today, it is neither here nor there. Few mugs of water is all it takes for me to ward them off and enjoy my bath. I am happy with the pubic hair in the bathroom, living with differences, without carping about it. I celebrate the differences and I don’t want my celebration interrupted. Amen!

©Vikas