My Idea of India

Saddened and shocked by the recent incidents of mob violence, one of them leading to the murder a 16 year old boy in the name of ‘Gau Raksha’ (cow protection), I thought it important to confront the contentious issues in India, our motherland. This time the lynching brought collective outrage on to the streets and action against the criminals was initiated. However, many other such incidents of mob violence did not get the same social reaction.

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We have always prided ourselves on ‘unity in diversity’ and ‘incredible India’ and yet, in the past, as in the present, there have been communal tensions, clashes and terrible violence that have killed, maimed and traumatized co-citizens across different religions and communities. When innocents have to bear the brunt of actions and reactions by so called ‘protectors of faith’, there is real reason for us to introspect, debate respectfully and set things right for all of us to live in peace and harmony. As a family that has travelled and lived in many places, big and small, in our beautiful country, I am sharing few real experiences with you young readers and co-citizens. I do so in the hope that it will set off introspection and collectively we will walk the right path. 

My parents were born before Indian Independence and did their early schooling in ‘British’ convent schools. My mother was a good singer and part of the Choir. Hearing her practicing Christmas carols, going to Church and chattering in English, her grandmother was worried she would ‘become a Christian’! My mother’s best friends were Philomena, Noorjehan and Shiela and they retained their beautiful friendships even decades later through genuine affection and mutual respect.

In 1970, my mother would take us to the Dargah of Pir Baba, a Muslim Saint. The same way, she would take us to see the beautiful temples around Jammu- a city situated around the Tawi River. Irrespective of religion, we had faith that our prayers to the almighty would be heard. Often, we would accompany the soldiers of my father’s regiment to the temple in the regiment and then to the Dargah outside, to feed the poor and seek the almighty’s blessings for our motherland.  No one ever asked about what faith each of us belonged to.

Those days, the railway network ended at Pathankot and a road journey of 105 kms from there took us over the Tawi Bridge and into Jammu city. During the 1971 war when I was a young child, I clearly remember elders reposing their faith in the blessings of Raghunathji and Pir Baba to protect Jammu and Kashmir from repeated attacks by Pakistani aircraft. The bridge over the Tawi River in Jammu was considered a lifeline. People would say ‘Tawi bridge ko udane ki koshish hai taaki Jammu aur Kashmir Hindustan se kat jaye. Par Raghunathji aur Pir Baba aisa hone nahi denge (They are attempting to bomb the Tawi bridge so that Jammu and Kashmir will be cut off from India. But Lord Raghunath and Pir Baba will not let that happen). As luck would have it, (or was it faith?) the bridge remained intact at the end of the war in which the Indian victory supported the birth of a new nation – Bangladesh.

Six years earlier, when the 1965 Indo-Pak war had seemed imminent, one of my father’s closest friends, Major Karim, was recalled from Hyderabad while on annual leave. He made a dash to Tirupati, on his way back to the unit. “Nothing to worry Murphy”, he told my dad as he handed out the prasadam, “Balaji is on our side”. At the end of the 1971 war, my father brought home a Holy Koran found abandoned in a destroyed building across the border in R S Pura Sector and reverently wrapped it in silk before presenting it to Major Karim.

In the late-nineties, my mother was holding back tears as she opened the door to let me in. “Fazal bhai died of a heart attack last night” she said and we went into a flashback of our long association. Fazal bhai was the smiling, bearded gentleman who owned the provision store across the road from my parents’ home in Bangalore. On our first Eid in the neighborhood, Fazal bhai’s young daughters came over to show us their new, elaborately embroidered festive dresses. They brought a tray and beneath the sequined satin covering, were chunks of raw meat. My mother thanked them smiling, and told them we were vegetarian. The girls left with the tray but were back quickly with sweets and fruits instead of the meat. We were touched and reciprocated their gesture of brotherhood each Diwali.

After Fazal bhai’s sudden demise, the family sold the property and the daughters, now grown up, were married and moved away. Recently, a group of not so young women in Burkha’s knocked at my octogenarian parent’s home. When my father opened the door, greetings and much laughter ensued over ‘pehchana’ (did you recognize us?), there was much hugging and they seemed as excited as those little girls had been two decades ago! Amidst telling my parents all about their ailing mother, their kids and how often they think of the good relationships we had as neighbours, they asked about me, my brother and our kids and after much chatting over cups of tea and snacks, left with more hugs, promising to visit again.

I know I have gone back and forth over time with these true life stories and I am sure each one of you will have your own such stories as well. Not all experiences may have been as positive and you may well question or confront my views. One thing I am clear about is that taking sides on the basis of narrow identities – be it religion, language, caste or class is not the way forward. I also hope that every right thinking Indian, particularly the youth, see through the politics of appeasement and the ‘divide-and-rule’ policy that many politicians continue to apply to satisfy their own thirst for power.

When innocents are killed and we unite to protest and take sides, we cannot afford to be selective. People from one faith killing those of another over beliefs and practices, people of a faith killing their own in the name of ‘azaadi’ and families killing their children in the name of ‘honour’ are particularly dangerous to our social fabric. We have seen large scale violence in the past, events that caused tremendous fear and muzzled voices and we need to ensure they never repeat. Some particularly painful memories during my lifetime include the excesses of the emergency in 1975, the Delhi riots in 1984, the ethnic cleansing of the Kashmir valley in the 1990s, Godhra and its aftermath in 2002 and many other painful incidents of targeted hate crimes from time to time. Each time we have emerged stronger and more united and the majority of our people have been able to decipher right from wrong.

Many of us as individuals, families and friends believe in celebrating unity in diversity that is so unique to our country. It is not uncommon for us to seek blessings at each other’s places of worship and many shrines like the Infant Jesus, Ajmer Dargah, Dharmastala, Golden Temple etc. are testimony to the faith that unites us.  Yet, many politicians, media professionals and opinion makers seem to take sides selectively, to heighten tensions instead of uniting us, and to focus on negativity instead of demanding accountability.

My family’s recent trip to Jammu and beyond was to try and come to terms with personal loss. Our son made the supreme sacrifice in Nagrota, J&K, defending our motherland by fighting terrorists and saving many innocent lives. He did not personally know the people he fought for, but he died for them. That they were co-Indians was all that mattered.

Now, there are five bridges over the Tawi River and Jammu is also connected by rail and air. It will no longer be possible for anyone to ‘cut it off’ from the rest of us. How do we work towards strengthening the ties that bridge the differences amongst us as Indians? Are we also willing to do the right thing each time we find ourselves in a difficult, conflicting situation? Will be have the courage of conviction if called upon to take sides? My faith in today’s youth is very strong.

I believe our young people are by and large proud of our secular fabric, committed to nation building and will uphold my idea of India.

Jai Hind!