Flashback 1992: 15th Anniversary Of Babri Masjid Demolition
By Asad Mustafa
In many ways it is just like any other Lucknow winter day. Sun has come up and my mother is watching her pickles dry on the roof. Our neighbor, Shukla-ji’s daughter has come for a lazy winterafternoon conversation with my mother and is oiling her hair. I am struggling with unsolved papers from previous years’ JEE tests. This year’s JEE is going to be my first big test in the real world.
It all looks normal – even the muffled background loudspeaker blaring somewhere from Sadhwi Ritambhara’s famous “Baabar ki aulaad? cassette seems almost natural part of this. The cassette has been repeated so many times that I can now tell in advance where she will pause for effect, where she will raise the pitch and where she will go almost hysterical. Occasional chants of “jis hindu ka, khun na khaula, khun nahin woh paani hai? are nothing new to me. Neither are lectures from some other orators played one after the other, who forcefully argue that those who want a mosque have full liberty to go and build their mosques in Pakistan and Saudi Arab. I have heard this for 2-3 years by now and accepted it as normal. However old-timers insist that it is not normal – at least not for Lucknow. Not long after, they will start recollecting old tales of how Lucknow remained peaceful even in the days of partition. Everyone will finally and grimly agree that times have changed.
In the adjoining room my father, two cousins, my elder sister and her husband are engaged in heated debate. I know it is the same old topic. Will they or will they not?
My elder cousin is vehement:
“These kar-sevaks are gathering in thousands. If no action is taken by the government now, nothing else will be possible later.?
My sister has her own views:
“This is all politics. BJP may be able to get some votes from this, that’s all. Relations between Hindus and Muslims of Lucknow will remain the same.?
My cousin doesn’t agree:
“Relations have already changed and they have changed forever. Now, there is no going back.?
My father – a retired bureaucrat – continues to think in sarkari terms even after retirement:
“Raising a populist sentiment is one thing and acting on it is another. The police and the law enforcement agencies have no choice in this. They will have to go by the law.?
I remember it is the same argument he had when we were at our relatives’ place in Karachi a few months back. My relatives in Karachi had heard of Ayodhya and were wondering how Muslims of India surrounded by an overwhelming Hindu majority were able to resist the tide of such a massive movement for so long.
“It is not a question of resisting anything?, my father would reply. “It is a question of rule of law. We are not a banana republic. There is judiciary, the free press, the opposition, the law enforcement agencies. When it comes to the brass task, none of the mob tactics will work. One thing is certain that they cannot take it by force. There are constitutional guarantees in India that no government can take away.?
My relatives looked impressed and awed. “We have a long way to go in Pakistan?, they conceded in defeat.
My reverie is broken as I can hear some commotion down below at our door. It is our neighbors. They seem to be discussing something important with my father:
“Rizvi saahab. We can take responsibility for our own people. But what if someone comes from the outside? There may be reaction of Ayodhya here.?
Reaction?? I am puzzled. All I know is that thousands - perhaps lakhs - of kar-sevaks have gathered around an old dilapidated disputed mosque with the intention of pulling it down. If these kar-sevaks succeed in demolishing the structure, there could be “reaction�? against Muslims living in our locality! Why? I am struggling.
“You see, from the outside, your house is indistinguishable. It is the name plate….?
“But the names are in stone. Do you want me to break this wall and remove the stone?? my father sounds more hurt than angry.
“No, no. All we suggest is that you paint over the names and write something else on it…for your own safety.?
My jiju and cousins have also come outside. On top is the name of my late grandfather – Dr. Masood Rizvi. A medical doctor with Indian Army, he served in three wars and died couple of years back. It is time for the next generation to show their gratitude and this generation has given its verdict: name of a late war veteran is a nuisance to social harmony because his beliefs were different. His memory is too communal. It has to go.
“Think of some “neutral? name for your house and write over it?, suggests someone.
“Aman?, my father mumbles in defeated tones. “Aman means peace. What better name in these troubled times??
Others are not so sure. “Aman is too Urdu-ish. It sounds Muslim. Think of something else- something more neutral.?
My father is speechless. This is Lucknow! … birth place of Urdu; this is where during Ram Charit Maanas akhand-paaths, someone will invariably ask for – and be provided with - a copy of Ram Charit Maanas in Urdu script, since this is all he can read. This is where you could be surprised by a chaste Urdu diction from a tonga-wallah. But, no; “aman” is too-Urdu-is. It won’t do in Lucknow. When did these fault lines become so sharp?
My jiju suggests “Samandar? – the sea. Sea is neither Hindu nor Muslim. It is perfectly neutral. Or, is it? “Samandar is Urdu?, corrects someone. “In Hindi, it is Samudra.? My father now cannot take it any more. He has limits to his self-respect. “I think Samandar is OK. If it means trouble for us, let it be so.”
Private channels have now arrived in India, but they are in their infancy and their coverage is insipid. BBC is still the only reliable source and it is hardly coming with any comforting news. Number of kar-sevaks has now swelled into lakhs. On DD, the Prime Minister has warned that he would not allow anyone to take law in their hands. Advani has clarified that the purpose of this mobilization is only a show of strength of popular sentiments, nothing more. This sounds reassuring. But Uma Bharati has insisted that the gathering is there for the purpose of pulling down the mosque and so has Bal Thakerey. Then there are scores of unaffiliated outfits that do not know why they are there.
Total confusion!
Atal-ji has appealed to both the sides for showing restraint. Atal-ji is a statesman. He doesn’t take sides. It is an hour of crisis for India. Hindus and Muslims – both – will have to demonstrate restraint.
There is another news clip that Chief Minister Kalyan Singh has filed affidavit in court affirming that his government is taking all action to maintain status quo. My father is jubilant. “Raising populist sentiments is one thing, acting on them is quite different. We have judiciary, the free press, the opposition. We are not a banana republic. There are constitutional guarantees…?” I suddenly feel a surge of inexplicable pride. Yes! We are not a banana republic! Among the darkness of South East Asia’s dictatorships, we are the only nation built on secular and democratic principles…
The morning after is the big day. I hear that police bandobast is fool-proof. Center has taken strict action and an army division has been stationed to build confidence. There are reports that even RSS workers are requesting volunteers to return back peacefully! People elsewhere are glued to BBC. And then suddenly, I hear bursting of crackers in the air, then more and some more… followed by chants of “Jai Sri Ram”? and the gratuitous, “Pakistan Murdabad”? My father has switched off the radio set, gone to his study and locked the door from the inside.
My mother and sister come rushing from the kitchen, “Is the mosque broken?” I do not know, and frankly I do not care. All I know for sure is that something else has broken that was much more precious and sacred than any mosque or temple in India.
It all looks normal – even the muffled background loudspeaker blaring somewhere from Sadhwi Ritambhara’s famous “Baabar ki aulaad? cassette seems almost natural part of this. The cassette has been repeated so many times that I can now tell in advance where she will pause for effect, where she will raise the pitch and where she will go almost hysterical. Occasional chants of “jis hindu ka, khun na khaula, khun nahin woh paani hai? are nothing new to me. Neither are lectures from some other orators played one after the other, who forcefully argue that those who want a mosque have full liberty to go and build their mosques in Pakistan and Saudi Arab. I have heard this for 2-3 years by now and accepted it as normal. However old-timers insist that it is not normal – at least not for Lucknow. Not long after, they will start recollecting old tales of how Lucknow remained peaceful even in the days of partition. Everyone will finally and grimly agree that times have changed.
In the adjoining room my father, two cousins, my elder sister and her husband are engaged in heated debate. I know it is the same old topic. Will they or will they not?
My elder cousin is vehement:
“These kar-sevaks are gathering in thousands. If no action is taken by the government now, nothing else will be possible later.?
My sister has her own views:
“This is all politics. BJP may be able to get some votes from this, that’s all. Relations between Hindus and Muslims of Lucknow will remain the same.?
My cousin doesn’t agree:
“Relations have already changed and they have changed forever. Now, there is no going back.?
My father – a retired bureaucrat – continues to think in sarkari terms even after retirement:
“Raising a populist sentiment is one thing and acting on it is another. The police and the law enforcement agencies have no choice in this. They will have to go by the law.?
I remember it is the same argument he had when we were at our relatives’ place in Karachi a few months back. My relatives in Karachi had heard of Ayodhya and were wondering how Muslims of India surrounded by an overwhelming Hindu majority were able to resist the tide of such a massive movement for so long.
“It is not a question of resisting anything?, my father would reply. “It is a question of rule of law. We are not a banana republic. There is judiciary, the free press, the opposition, the law enforcement agencies. When it comes to the brass task, none of the mob tactics will work. One thing is certain that they cannot take it by force. There are constitutional guarantees in India that no government can take away.?
My relatives looked impressed and awed. “We have a long way to go in Pakistan?, they conceded in defeat.
My reverie is broken as I can hear some commotion down below at our door. It is our neighbors. They seem to be discussing something important with my father:
“Rizvi saahab. We can take responsibility for our own people. But what if someone comes from the outside? There may be reaction of Ayodhya here.?
Reaction?? I am puzzled. All I know is that thousands - perhaps lakhs - of kar-sevaks have gathered around an old dilapidated disputed mosque with the intention of pulling it down. If these kar-sevaks succeed in demolishing the structure, there could be “reaction�? against Muslims living in our locality! Why? I am struggling.
“You see, from the outside, your house is indistinguishable. It is the name plate….?
“But the names are in stone. Do you want me to break this wall and remove the stone?? my father sounds more hurt than angry.
“No, no. All we suggest is that you paint over the names and write something else on it…for your own safety.?
My jiju and cousins have also come outside. On top is the name of my late grandfather – Dr. Masood Rizvi. A medical doctor with Indian Army, he served in three wars and died couple of years back. It is time for the next generation to show their gratitude and this generation has given its verdict: name of a late war veteran is a nuisance to social harmony because his beliefs were different. His memory is too communal. It has to go.
“Think of some “neutral? name for your house and write over it?, suggests someone.
“Aman?, my father mumbles in defeated tones. “Aman means peace. What better name in these troubled times??
Others are not so sure. “Aman is too Urdu-ish. It sounds Muslim. Think of something else- something more neutral.?
My father is speechless. This is Lucknow! … birth place of Urdu; this is where during Ram Charit Maanas akhand-paaths, someone will invariably ask for – and be provided with - a copy of Ram Charit Maanas in Urdu script, since this is all he can read. This is where you could be surprised by a chaste Urdu diction from a tonga-wallah. But, no; “aman” is too-Urdu-is. It won’t do in Lucknow. When did these fault lines become so sharp?
My jiju suggests “Samandar? – the sea. Sea is neither Hindu nor Muslim. It is perfectly neutral. Or, is it? “Samandar is Urdu?, corrects someone. “In Hindi, it is Samudra.? My father now cannot take it any more. He has limits to his self-respect. “I think Samandar is OK. If it means trouble for us, let it be so.”
Private channels have now arrived in India, but they are in their infancy and their coverage is insipid. BBC is still the only reliable source and it is hardly coming with any comforting news. Number of kar-sevaks has now swelled into lakhs. On DD, the Prime Minister has warned that he would not allow anyone to take law in their hands. Advani has clarified that the purpose of this mobilization is only a show of strength of popular sentiments, nothing more. This sounds reassuring. But Uma Bharati has insisted that the gathering is there for the purpose of pulling down the mosque and so has Bal Thakerey. Then there are scores of unaffiliated outfits that do not know why they are there.
Total confusion!
Atal-ji has appealed to both the sides for showing restraint. Atal-ji is a statesman. He doesn’t take sides. It is an hour of crisis for India. Hindus and Muslims – both – will have to demonstrate restraint.
There is another news clip that Chief Minister Kalyan Singh has filed affidavit in court affirming that his government is taking all action to maintain status quo. My father is jubilant. “Raising populist sentiments is one thing, acting on them is quite different. We have judiciary, the free press, the opposition. We are not a banana republic. There are constitutional guarantees…?” I suddenly feel a surge of inexplicable pride. Yes! We are not a banana republic! Among the darkness of South East Asia’s dictatorships, we are the only nation built on secular and democratic principles…
The morning after is the big day. I hear that police bandobast is fool-proof. Center has taken strict action and an army division has been stationed to build confidence. There are reports that even RSS workers are requesting volunteers to return back peacefully! People elsewhere are glued to BBC. And then suddenly, I hear bursting of crackers in the air, then more and some more… followed by chants of “Jai Sri Ram”? and the gratuitous, “Pakistan Murdabad”? My father has switched off the radio set, gone to his study and locked the door from the inside.
My mother and sister come rushing from the kitchen, “Is the mosque broken?” I do not know, and frankly I do not care. All I know for sure is that something else has broken that was much more precious and sacred than any mosque or temple in India.
No comments:
Post a Comment