A sensitive boy and the Kar Sewaks-II

My immature mind was already corrupted by this communal feeling. I often wondered if we too will meet the same fate as other Muslims who perished in the riots. My mother lost her cousin in the Bengali-Bihari riots in Bangladesh. She told me that her cousin could save her daughter as she hid her below her saari who was later rescued by the police. At least I now have a hiding place in case of emergency!

The demographics are completely different in Bihar, my home state. Biharis are completely against Bengalis and this animosity has triggered riots several times. Basically this animosity is fueled by lack of education among local Biharis, which leads to unemployment among the locals, and thus Bengali, being highly educated, dominate the job market.

Even though some of my best friends in school happen to be Hindus, I never talked to them about this controversial issue. I even thought that they, being children and definitely not as sensitive as me, would pay no heed to these frivolous, in their eyes, happenings around them. The period between 1992 and 2002 has been peaceful as no major riot broke out in the country. There few minor incidents; I was in my hometown Biharshareef. We were returning from Friday prayer and suddenly we could see stones flying all around us, we were under attack from the local Hindus who were angry at some political issue. It was scary. Few stones even hit me but we were still running. Within few minutes there was cross-pelting of the stones from the Muslims and things were then even. Police soon dropped in, thanks to Laloo’s able administration as far as containment of riots are concerned, to bring the situation under control. Such sporadic incidents plagued the country for years before 2002.

I left home after my 10th for a better school, which meant I had to live alone away from home for the first time in my life. And there I met a Hindu family which I will remember all my life for the care and affection they bestowed on me. I hate to categorize people based on their religion but as I am dealing with this cancer then I have to, sorry about that. One night few RSS workers came to my room, unaware that I am a Muslim, to distribute pamphlets for one of their gatherings in the city. I quietly listened to them and even let them paste one of their banners on the window pane. I wasn’t scared but wondered how they would have reacted if I told them that I am a Muslim. In the morning I saw uncle scrubbing off the banner from the window pane. My respect grew multi-folds for him. During my 2 years of stay there, I was known by the name ‘sunny’ and not my real name for obvious reasons.

I always tried to put aside this communal feeling and the tense atmosphere I was growing under because it would have further caused prejudice in my mind.  At times I used to feel victimized at being a Muslim in India. But those scars of 1992 were erased, at least from my mind, in the coming years. 

I will next talk about the Gujarat riots.