After 300 years of cruel rule in India, British Army managed to march out of the country with a shot fire and seven casualties. A shot fire and seven casualties. But! Indians ended up uprooting 15 million of its own population, killing 1 or 2 million of its own people, raping 75,000 women of its own land and partitioning its own country.  1947 was that candle in Indian history, that lit up the sky with freedom from slavery but put its grounds in dark killing its integrity. 1947 killed the coexistence in India, at a glance.

I was eleven when one morning pitaji rushed to my bedroom. I was seeing him after two days. But he did not care to me and was walking here and there. Soon, he got the sandook from the almirah, and started packing. Before I could ask him the reason maa and chichi came in with her jewelleries and other belongings. We were going somewhere I knew but where and why? And what was the reason of the rush. Things were not right as we were at the edge of getting freedom from British rule, I had learnt from the elders. Before I could utter a word, maa caressed me and said, “beta, we cannot tell you the everything now… we have to leave Karachi, we will go to some other part of the country, that is the thing for now.”, that was enough to shake my grounds, “maa, we got independent, then why are they making us move?” maa was terrified. Never in the past years had that I had saw her worried like this. After Second World War, independence became our fate as British Empire was out of resources to run the cruelty and the fight for freedom had ignited. We were going to be a democratic country after 300 years of slavery. But I saw no happiness in her eyes; her words were shivery instead, ”it is not the British, we failed to keep good relations with the other religions of our country, we will be divided into two countries from now on, don’t you remember me telling you about the new region, Pakistan?”, Maa tried to wrap the conversation but I was confused, “ yes, you had told me but why we have to shift?,” I wanted the ask more but the noises  outside interrupted me. Maa sensed my insecurity somehow, “this is a land of muslims and we are hindus we cannot stay here any long, this is going to be Pakistan and we are Indians.” Pitaji joined us but not for talking, “betaji, we will let you understand each and everything but not now, this is a crucial time, people are killing each other,,,, we are not safe here.” He was stressed and so were the other family member but I could not really get the reason, “I obey you, pitaji,,,, but this is our hometown, I have lived here with ashfaq from the time I was born, why would he kill me?”, by the time I completed my question wiping my tears pitaji was gone, he was busy. Maa promised to tell me about it on our way and left me to get ready.

But I wasn’t happy. But then! I had to follow my elders. I stared my room for some time and then I went to close the window, I did not want dust to fell in. site of the street had all my answers. There were dead bodies and… blood. That was all I could see. I was unaware of the reason again, but I got the fact that we were not safe. I locked the door of my room, kissed it and promised to come back, one day.

For next 15 minutes, we waited in the hall. Pitaji and chachaji went to check for safety. We were strictly told to stay home. maa, chichi, rupa, dadi, ashwin and me. I was crying, all that while. At one time when the riots outside accelerated, Maa sat down to match my height and held my shoulder tightly, “promise me one thing,,, you will not leave my hand. Our own people are going to be harsh on us, they will attach us,,, there is chance,,, but you won’t lose the grip on me, promise?” I promised and she hugged me with her lively smile and teary eyes. I was strengthened.

“paras, you go with chachaji and your cousins, we will come in the next trip.”, Pitaji said when he came back. “but why?”, I was anxious. “betaji, we have got only one tanga, you people leave and we will follow.”, he made me understand but that was not enough for me, “I will come with maa, I won’t lose the grip”, I announced.  Maa held me again, “yes, you never will. But we are family and we have to act according to what comes forth.”, she advised but I was stubborn, “I will not…. Leave your hands,”.   She, with all her grace, put through her words that were unmatchable, “your safety is my responsibility and my dignity is your obedience. Think of everyone’s safety and leave,,,, I will grab you again once you escape the darkness of today.”

I obeyed… and left. The time I saw her waving from the tanga, she looked divine. We boarded the train but they did not come. My anxiety and fear grew every second. Chachaji told us they would come in the next train. And they did come, Pitaji and his associates. Pitaji did not meet me till we reach our new house in Amritsar. “Your maa and chachi stayed in the camp, the violence had advanced. They will come with the other migrants.” Pitaji told us. He had actually… lied to us. they never came. Maa and chachi. They never came.

Today, after 70 years, I am a historian and a professor. I tell my students not just the fighting spirit of our patriots but the sacrifices done our women. Our own people are going to be harsh on us. my pitaji killed maa that day. your safety is my responsibility and my dignity is your obedience. She died to save me and her dignity. My safety was in moving out of my hometown because few people suddenly thought that our motherland needed division to survive and my mother’s dignity was in dying because all thought it to be better to kill their own ladies than to find them brutally raped by other religion.

Everything was done by everybody for religion, regardless of being a Hindu or Muslim. Both killed, raped, looted and separated their ways. They fought for freedom together for ages, and then they fought with each other to feel free. And that is how we got independent… independent of?

"There, I saw HIM. HIS Big soft footsteps fell on the top, top of that dome and made it beautiful... HE has chosen me, us to claim his territory, the territory which has been stolen years back. It is time." A preacher announced his dream to the followers of the deity. Then the creatures decided to gift a piece of land to the creator HIMSELF. They placed the idol of the deity in the mosque. And what happened next is a history no one wants to turn and see. For years several lawsuits, politicians and the legal authorities tried to resolve the matter and failed. Then! The followers from all over the country gathered to do the justice and they demolished the piece of land they had once offered their deity. The event left humanity dead when the mob itself killed thousands and divided way for two religions for thousand more years…

Tara gazed her own words for a while and then mailed it. It was 2:30am. Next day the office was as usual for her till the time she was summoned by the boss. “Tara, your article summary itself has impressed our clients, and they are satisfied with the full story. Congratulations! For the great work and now I am going to get you more engaged with your next assignment.” Boss applauded Tara that overwhelmed her, “Thank You boss. And what is the next assignment? “, “You have to continue with the after effects of the mosque demolition, for that you will be sent to Mumbai for your next research work.” boss explained. “That would be great. When do I have to leave?” asked Tara.

Days in Mumbai kept Tara excited to the fullest. Meetings with different people, unfolding facts, and new theories kept her intact on her work. That day after meeting the Police Commissioner, after a long time she chose to write something for her own blog. 

I was then serving as DCP in Mumbai police department when my whole surrounding got changed in few hours. One blast, then the other, and then another. Form BSE, Mahim, Hotel Sea Rock, Air India to Juhu, Worli... every place.  Every place I visited had turned into a death post. Smoke, blood, dead bodies and cries drenched my senses. But what was more frightening was yet to come. Our investigation unfolded truths that were hard to swallow. Surely, the act was a well-planned destruction by the underworld and was an answer to the mosque demolition by them. But the demolition not just lead to this blast but had given wings to a Home grown terrorism. Yes! We kept inspecting every section and we were shocked to know that most people involved in the execution were Indians. From a reputed family to poor boat holders, from a film star to police constables and from underworld to common man, hundreds were convicted in the case. It took us decades to punish the ones involved and it’s a shame that not every person has yet got punished for this inhuman activity. The ones who planned the blast are still absconding. Yes! It took time because it had involvement of hundreds, because it left hundreds dead, because the executors were more powerful, because neighbouring countries were involved, because….. There are hundreds of reasons. But! It doesn’t change the fact that... we lacked, we lacked to do it on time, and we lacked to serve justice to the one event that originated this act.

Mumbai days were near to end and the research satisfied Tara as a columnist. But then an idea struck her, “How could I miss it.”, she murmured to herself.

She went to meet common people of Mumbai, who were not involved in the blast, were not the victims of the blast, but were just a resident of the city. The only thing that mattered for her was their religion, whether it is the two religions who clashed or the others.

And now she was set to write the conclusion:

Before reading this article, you will have to keep your religious sentiments aside. And if you can, then may be some day this war of religions will end and we will breathe in a real democracy. It all started with a belief. A preacher, a minister or may be someone else from religion A, concluded that there shouldn’t stand a mosque on the land of a Hindu God. And they placed His Idol at the mosque. It will sound ridiculous to the atheist but then I said you have to keep your religious believes aside. They claimed that their Mughal Emperors had constructed a mosque on the place where temple existed. It is okay for a country to have a mosque at the place of temple because it had been under the rule of outsiders for several decades. But it is not okay to forcefully change the culture of a place in a democracy. And being a democratic country that offers equal rights to all religions, it took us decades to resolve this one issue where only few hands were involved and we could not do justice even after decades. And then in this democratic country, devotees around the country appointed them to do justice by demolishing the 450 years old mosque. Now it became a national issue with 2000 plus killings and the political involvement in huge number. A justice system that failed to settle regional issue decades back was now unable to do justice to this national issue for sure. And then religion B took a stand. Next year people from religion B helped execution of RDX blasts in a metropolitan city of their own country. That left 200 dead and hundreds injured. It was an international issue now with involvement of neighbouring countries and the underworld. But the most important term that we got after these blasts was Home grown terrorism. But we lacked the fact that killing 2000 people and demolishing a building by a mob should have also been termed as Home grown terrorism. And then, for no surprise, it took us two decades to reach conclusions for the issue and the case is still running in the court. Yes! It is tough to solve issues like blasts and mob killings where thousands of people are involved. It takes time. Maybe because we lack in appointing enough judiciary persons to handle the hearings on time, maybe because we don’t train our police to handle these major attacks, maybe special forces and army need approval from politicians before acting, maybe because we have politician who are so corrupt that nationalism comes after money and religion for them, maybe because we need education and non-criminal background for any other sector but not for being a politician,  maybe because we lack in infrastructure and technology to monitor our security, and maybe because we are so anti-national that entering our country and attacking us has become so frequent for terrorists. We should realise that killing is not a practice that any God offers for their follower. No holy book, whether of religion A or B or C or D or any other, teaches inhuman and terror activities. They just recite the act of humanity, love, giving, doing everything that is good for nature. We claim to follow our creator but we are killing its creation for our own believes. Bring in your religious believes now and ask yourself, do you practice dos and don’ts from the holy book that your religion offer? We lack because us, all of us, lack humanity.

It counts as a bad manner to listen, interfere or publicise other’s talk. But it doesn’t fit in as a moral when you are travelling by train. In fact, I like it when unknown people sit together and talk about anything to everything just to pass the time. It is believed that people of my generation are involved with their gadget_freak_social_media_life. But! It’s hell not true, not with me at least... especially when the guy opposite you is a handsome army man. A tall, perfectly fair and perfectly built up guy... with lips more pink than usual. And it interests you even more when he is from Kashmir.

I was on my way to Bhopal when I heard this catchy conversation the jawaan was having with a lady (seemed to be in her forties) who was sitting beside him, a cool multitasking college dude next to him again who was talking & playing candy crush and a retired physics professor who was seated next to me.

The professor: I toured Kashmir last year with my beta, bahu and grandson. She surely is a heaven. (by she, he meant Kashmir.)

The lady: Is it safe out there? (What!)

The jawaan: Of course, ma’am. Yes, we can’t deny, there are still some restricted areas, kya kare yeh jung... picha nahi chod rahi. Nearly 11 lakh travellers visited Jammu & Kashmir in 2014, of which only 50,000 were from foreign countries. You must visit ma’am. (Damn, he talks like a dream.)

The cool dude: What is your job? Have you ever been in the border security? (That’s a good one, bro.)

The jawaan: No. It’s been 6 years I am living army. I have worked as security for ministers; have guarded many occasions like Delhi parade. Initially I was in Kashmir but later they sent me to Delhi. Now, I work in headquarters. (Mark his words... he said living army, not serving)

The cool dude: So, you serve Indian Army, that makes it obvious you have no issues with Indian government, but there are many who want a free Kashmir even today... how do you see this? (The dude is more than just cool, I see.)

The jawaan: Haha, I work for India not the government. Well, I love my country, the things that has happened and that are still happening are the after results of adverse opinions, conflicts and much more... Kashmir has suffered a lot, a lot more than what you and I can imagine, but no one alone but everything together was responsible. So I don’t blame people in Kashmir for thinking that way but I try they understand my point. (Deep.)

The lady: It’s really pleasing to see people of your age dedicated towards the country.

The jawaan: There are so many like me out there, ma’am. (Oh man, his smile.)

Pause.

The professor: You are going home or headquarters?

The jawaan: Filhaal, I am going home, I had been in Nagpur for a relatives wedding. I will be home for two days and will then return to cant.

The lady: Where do you live in Kashmir, beta?

The jawaan: Gulmarg. It’s a beautiful hill station. I am born & brought up there. You all can come and visit.

This time he looked at everyone including me. (OMG. Has he seen me gazing at him?)

The professor: I dint get to visit Gulmarg.

The cool dude: It lies near the LOC. (he is still playing.)

The professor: Yeah yeah.

The lady: There must be a Muslim dominating population.

The jawaan: Ji. The whole Kashmir is.

The cool dude: There are other Kashmiri with you in headquarters?

The jawaan: Not in headquarters. But there were many in my batch.

The professor: Is there any quota for Muslims in army?

The jawaan: laugh. There are no quotas.

The lady: Is there any discrimination that Muslims face?

The jawaan: Discrimination? Ma’am this is Indian army, our religions doesn’t matter. If it matters somewhere than only for celebrating our festivals together when we are away from our family. There are so many Muslims in our army, I myself am a Muslim... I have never experienced any discrimination or harassment for being a Muslim or for being from Kashmir.

The professor nodded in support, The cool dude was busy playing but did a hmm to contribute and The lady was stunned for some unknown reason.

The lady: You are musalmaan?

The jawaan: Ji, ma’am. Asraf Ali.

The professor: Tell me more about Gulmarg. Is it safe to travel...

And their conversation went on. They kept on discussing the army, Kashmir, government and I kept on listening to them but by this time my focus had completely shifted to The lady. Suddenly, she was not saying anything, had got shifted towards the window, and was not even looking at them.

This made me restless. Just a few moments ago he was a pleasing young man dedicated to country, he was interesting to listen to and he also was a beta. And being all this... all that mattered for her at last was... that he was a Muslim. He dint react. He didn’t say a single word to her again throughout the journey. May be, he dint care...may be, he was used to this... may be, it dint bother him... may be... may not be. I kept on thinking, I keep thinking even today.

It bothers me even today. The question might not hurt the person who said and the one who answered... but it hurts me.

Why is it necessary for us to know who is who, who is born as what? Isn’t it enough to know what one does and how right or wrong one is with whatever one does?

It is not just about Muslims, but I wonder how many of us Indians ask this one question to how many other Indians... We sadden them, hurt them and we may even provoke them...

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 60^th 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 6^th 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 16^th-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.