My father is a religious person. He believes that mukti yatra cuts down the impurities and cleanses the soul. He always wanted to do this yatra through which he gets to visit lots of mosques and dargahs. His 60th birthday was approaching. December is a cold month. So, I decided to take him on this yatra myself. It was supposed to be memorable, and ultimately it was.
I planned a 12-day trip over 3 states of the North, covering 16 of the important religious sites. Abbu’s birthday was right in the middle of the trip- on the 6th day. We left home with a bag full of anticipation and good hope. The first 5 days went exactly as I planned, but not Abbu’s birthday.
On his birthday, we were to explore the city which had a great importance in the Hindu mythology. We thought of taking the essence of a sister religion and some extra blessings from the Hindu Gods too. There was a 16th-century mosque that Abbu wished to visit. We reached the place early in the morning. Abbu said he would sleep sometime before going to the mosque in the afternoon. I tried sleeping too but a weird feeling kept me up. I went down for some tea. There was a small stall which served tea, coffee and snacks. There were three people other having tea there. I asked for a cup and sat on the bench.
“Munna ka tabiyat bigad gaya, nahi to hum jarur jaate.” said the slim guy wearing a kurta.
“Abhi bhi time hai, aap ja sakte hain. Program 3-4 baje se pehle khatam nahi hoga.” Said the chai-wala.
“12 baj gaye hain, ab jaane ka mann nahi.” The slim guy replied.
I was keenly listening to what they were saying. I started getting interested upon hearing the word ‘program’.
“Muaf kijiyega, kis program ki baat ho rahi hai?” I asked.
“Aap kahan gum hain, bhai- sahab? Itni badi rally nikli hai aur aapko nahi maalum? Kal ki ghoshna nahi suni aapne?” the other guy in a kurta asked back.
“Ji, mai aaj hi aya hun. Yatra par hu Abbu ke sath. Masjid jaane ka iraada hai kuch der me.” I clarified.
There was a sudden silence amongst us. The two guys in kurta looked at each other and then looked away. They had finished their tea.
“Chal chotu, hum chalte hain.” the other one said and they both walked away whispering.
“Aaj masjid jana aapke liye theek nahi.” said the chai-wala.
“Kyu, bhai?” I was getting anxious.
“Yeh masjid vivaad me phasa hua hai.”
“Itna to hume pata hai, bhai. Par log to aaj bhi jaate hain na wahan?” I wanted answers.
“Haan, Magar aaj ki rally wahin ho rahi hai, aur aadhikarik raay iss masjid ke khilaaf jate hain. Aakhir hai to yeh sheher ek Hindu dharm sthal.” The chai-wala’s words were making no sense to me.
“Kya isse ye maalum hota hai ye yahan masjid ka hona galat hai?” i asked.
“Hamare kehne ya sochne se kya hota hai? Hai to raaj satta ka.”
“Satta? Kya yahan ki satta sabke liye baraabar nahi?” I was confused.
He jolted his head and looked away. His silence was making me uncomfortable. I wanted to see the rally. I wanted to see the mosque.
“Masjid ka raasta kis taraf hai?”
..............................
Crowd, a disturbed crowd was all I could see in front of my eyes. I kept on walking. I could hear them chanting. Those chants were piercing through my body like little needles. I could sense instability. I could sense insanity. I went closer. I could now hear the bhaashan that the politician was giving.
“Iss bhoomi ko hame samtal banana hoga, baithne layak banana hoga. Taki yahan samoohik kirtan ho sake, bhajan ho sake. Yagya ka aayojan hoga....”
‘What is this man trying to say?’ I thought in my head. The mob kept cheering and chanting.
“Jai Shri Ram! Jai Shri Ram!”
When I went further and got the first sight of the mosque from a distance, I stood there perplexed. It was right in front of my eyes- the wrecking. The domes were being hit, the walls were attacked. It was hard for me to digest what I saw. The main dome fell... then another... Just then I saw something flying towards me and hit me.... I realized I was sitting on the ground, full of dust, when I came back to senses. The mosque was not standing anymore. My neck hurt, but it did not matter to me.
People had started returning to their homes. I returned too. On the way back to the hotel, I could not stop thinking about what had happened. They said it was essential, as it was an important Hindu site. The political leaders were smiling. The people were dancing in victory, chanting slogans and celebrating their win. Did they actually win? Who won? How can anyone justify the existence of a Hindu site? How does demolition of a religious building define their sanity? The security forces ran away. Further, there was no effort put to stop them. Why? My head was full of questions.
Abbu was awake and really worried when he did not find me in the room. He had already gathered the information about the demolition but my absence was a bigger concern for him then. When I reached, Abbu was watching the news on the TV with widened eyes. He ran to me and held me by my shoulders.
“Khairiyat hai?” he was shaking.
“Han Abbu, mai khairiyat hu, magar ye desh bahut beemar hai.” I replied.
He had tears in his eyes. I was broken. There was nothing that we could do.
“Chal, laut chalen.” he said, still shaking.
..............................
It is February. About two months passed... and riots, commotion and deaths are all that we saw. Every other day we woke up with the death toll rising, new cities being engrossed and more hatred in the air. The fire had struck. Temples, mosques and other random buildings were targeted. We too were invited for a meeting to remove people of the other religion out of our locality. Ordinary people had turned into activists. People were dying. But, what could we do?
Whenever there is a state of disagreement, why is agitation and anger the first and the last option? Why do people think that destroying a monument of killing the people would solve or pacify an issue? Why does a positive ground, the religion, become the reason for the unending negativity? Why ‘co-existence’ is no more a word with a meaning? But, what could we do?
I suddenly felt like a culprit. I never thought anything beyond my family’s happiness. Who thinks about the country’s happiness? Who thinks about its integrity? Lots of our countrymen died, about 2000 of them. Are our countrymen, our extended family? If no, then why do we share the same land? If yes, then why are we still silent?
I decided, I would not sit silent anymore. I will do my part. I will propagate my questions, and I will derive the solutions. I will.
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