“You look more beautiful without the hijab.” This is what I hear every time I’m at a gathering. So, I decided to sit down and talk to you about why I wear it and the story behind the hijab on my head. I do this in the hope that maybe, you learn to appreciate the beauty I am and accept my choice, the next time you see me.
It was 2018 when I decided to wear it, but it was not the first time that I had read about it. Ever since I was 12 years old, I had began surfing through my dada’s personal library secretly because for some reason, I didn’t want anyone knowing I was interested in religious stuff.
My little feet would carry me to my purple-coloured school bag which my aapa (sister) brought from Kolkata. I would hide my book between other books so that I can read it during lunch time, as I was never interested in having discussions about actors. While my friends discussed Shah Rukh Khan, I read paragraphs about the hijab and why wearing it was necessary.
My Experiments With The Hijab
The first stint I had with the hijab wasn’t in 2018, it was in 2014. That was when I had first decided to wear the hijab and it wasn’t like what you can get today. It was a proper, multi-coloured hijab with most it being navy blue. I just had to put my little face in it, and voila! It was done.
But, the little me knew that I had to get permission so one day, I knocked on my senior in-charge’s door and handed her a paper on which I had scribbled my issue. She took one good look at me, up and down; asked for an explanation and I was granted the permission I desired. From the very next day, I started to wear it.
When the PTA (parent-teacher association) meeting happened, I was told that I couldn’t wear it because of “whatever” reasons. I don’t actually remember how I felt that day, but I do remember that the sudden realisation of being: the other, different. The Islamophobic nature of the denial had kicked in. I knew that day: I’d be treated differently for the rest of my life.
Four years later, I had to attend my university debating and literary club’s (UDLC) forum. And, I was running around on campus looking for a specific friend. Finally, I reached her dormitory and shouted her name:
“Lubna, jaldi aao!” (Lubna, come quickly!)
I handed her the little stole that I had managed to buy from the market. Looking at me quizzically, she raised her eyebrows.
“Hijab,” I told her, panting.
She smiled as she tried to tie it around my head. “This is small very small! We will go shopping once you come back,” she said to me.
“Will work!” I shouted as I ran back.
I Feel Angry At How We Are Treated
It’s been four years to that day. Now, as I stand before the mirror successfully holding the hijab pin in between my lips, my fingers creating the layers on my head and soothing it at the same time, I smile. It’s been a long journey since I first started to wear it and I won’t say that it was an easy one. Because, as a hijabi in India, we have our own set of struggles.
Being a girl, on top of it, a Muslim, and the cherry on the top? A visible one.
There are days when you get stared down head-to-toe and hear people whispering; your family suggests that you don’t wear a hijab while travelling; one spends 15 minutes convincing five security guards that a charger is just a charger etc.
These instances have become so common that we are used to it by now… Which is so wrong in itself, but it is how it is!
I understand everything. If you don’t like to wear it, don’t wear it. No one is forcing you to wear it. But, the recent High Court of Karnataka order upholding the ban on hijab in educational institutions in the state, makes me angry. This is because I fail to understand how can someone else decide what we wear?
How can a bunch of non-Muslims, people who have not read one page of the holy Quran, decide what is an essential practice in my religion and what is not? Who gives them the power? And, the question is not if it is essential. The point is that I want to wear it. Period. What’s all the fuss and cry about?
I see many liberals making this a case of “men versus women” when it’s NOT! It’s actually the Indian majority against one community. It’s an attempt to dehumanise Muslims.
Then again, it brings me to another realisation: the justice system is being saffronised. I don’t know if using “being” would be the right choice because it has already chosen to color itself in saffron by looking away from the Muslim community.
The case will go on to the Supreme Court, but to be honest, I don’t have any hope and I’d suggest my others sisters the same. We will fight! We will wear our hijab till our very last breath, insh’Allah (god willing), but we should assure ourselves of the fact that no-one is going to help. No justice will be rendered to us by the courts because they have not failed us once or twice, but every single time.
Most importantly, these are courts that couldn’t protect themselves or the constitution from terrorists; they have joined hands with anti-national elements, and are refusing to protect a minority’s interests… A minority that looks up to it with tear-glazed eyes.
The Importance Of Hope
“Mayusi kufr hai” (hopelessness is equal to infidelity), so we will hold onto hope—the hope of getting justice. But, we should be ready for what’s to come! I know we all are numb, disappointed, and maybe, hurt too. However, we need to think ahead, and display courage and sabr (patience).
For many people, the hijab is just a cloth that people tie around their heads, but to me, the hijab is an emotion. The feeling that I get when my fingers run over my hijab symbolises the sudden rush of content I felt when I first decided to wear it. The way the hijab pin pricks my scalp suddenly sometimes, symbolises the struggles that I go through every day for wearing it. And, the colour of the hijab symbolises the beauty that Allah (god) has created in me.
When I look in the mirror at my hijab, all in all, it stands for liberation! It stands for all the battles that I have won and continue to win—against oppression, patriarchy, and most of all, shaytaan (Satan or evil).
So, I won’t let a group of terrorists or a court decide what I can wear and what I cannot. I refuse to give this control into the hands of any living creature. And, I refuse to believe in any judgement that anyone has to pass on this because for me, the judgement has already been passed.
I repeat: the hijab is not just a piece of cloth for me, it’s an emotion that I refuse to give up!
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This piece was first published here.