“I’ll not be able to sleep today.”
Urooj told me when I asked him how he was taking the disturbing scenes from Rajasthan’s Karauli after the violent communal clash on April 2, 2022. I didn’t know what to say, so I changed the topic to skip the feeling of moral guilt and asked him to stay away from social media for a few days.
I belong to a Brahmin family in Unnao, Uttar Pradesh, that takes religious rules very seriously. I was brought up in a strictly religious atmosphere where nobody was allowed to break the rules; be it staying away from non-veg food, not entering the kitchen while the food was being cooked or taking a bath every time you used the washroom.
I felt irritated at some of the rules yet kept following them without questioning them because, since childhood, I was taught to practice religion blindly. Family not only teaches skills but also transmits values and beliefs. Although other factors were at play, this was the main factor behind my religious bigotry.
Yes, I was a bigot.
It’s quite ironic, but there was a time when my religious bigotry was increasing parallel to my growing friendship with Urooj.
I considered Urooj an exception, the lone Muslim friend who was ‘good’. This was so because I connected with him on a personal level where religious bigotry couldn’t reach.
I remember laughing at the Islamophobic jokes of fellow schoolmates. I also remember the fight with a Muslim classmate because I used a demeaning slur to tease him. Instead of giving me punishment, the teachers gave me moral support because of my Hindu identity.
I look at my 17-year-old self, taking part in various religious processions, being associated with the mob of bigots roaming on bikes, wanting to paint the whole town in Saffron on Holi, shouting ‘Jai Shree Ram’ intentionally in the Muslim dominated areas, consuming and sharing communal content on social media causing fear and anxiety to the fellow Muslim citizens.
But change came knocking at my door when, on the advice of my history teacher and my desire to prepare for UPSC, I chose the University of Delhi to study History and Political Science.
It took me a while to adjust to a big metro city like Delhi. I’d often get into arguments with fellow college mates as I’d share Islamophobic content on the college WhatsApp group to tease my fellow Kashmiri batchmates.
Taking History as one of my discipline subjects and preparing for UPSC acted as a myth-breaking decision in my life. Things started changing when I started taking my studies seriously and was able to see things more clearly.
I realized that I was being taught garbage in the name of history, that the ‘history’ I had been fed on social media for all these years was the exact opposite of what my professors were teaching me.
Today, when the current regime is trying to erase and rewrite history, I can clearly understand the reasons behind it.
My transformation journey started with Mahatma Gandhi and his lesson to be the change you wish to see in the world. The presence of some progressive friends and various discussions with them have helped me unlearn my problematic traits.
During the 3rd semester, a friend gave me Bhagat Singh’s ‘Why Am I Am Atheist’, and it was the first book that made me do reflect. It was a direct attack on my religious bigotry.
I have always been a fan of ‘nationalist’ Bhagat Singh. But after reading his books, I realised that the Bhagat Singh of my childhood never existed.
The Bhagat Singh of my childhood was merely a propaganda image built for political ploys in the country. After this, I started trying to see things from different perspectives and started reading more works of progressive philosophers and authors that helped me better understand the world.
The CAA-NRC protests and the police brutality on the students of Jamia University was an eye-opening incident for me. After that, it became clear that there is a dire need to counter the authoritarian regime. Instead of serving the citizens, it uses draconian laws like UAPA to crush dissent and intentionally targets minorities to ignite divisive politics in the country.
I understand I am not a bigot anymore, and my social conditioning forced me to be who I am. Still, whenever I see any news of communal violence or hate crimes against Muslims, I get flashbacks that fill me with guilt, rage and irritation because I see the ugly fantasies of those mobs turning into reality today.
I feel helpless seeing teenagers holding swords in their hands instead of books. I fear my Muslim best friend getting killed by an angry mob of brainwashed youths. I feel sad when I see Urooj’s parents asking him to get back home before the sunset because they have the same fear as me. I am ashamed of contributing to this in some way or other.
As a History and Political Science student, I know what it means to have a country built on hatred and contempt for certain communities. I know what religious extremism does to a nation; I know what happened in Nazi Germany under Hitler.
The rise of the politics of polarization in the recent few decades has increased religious fanaticism and cases of communal violence in the country. The collapse of law and order has gone beyond the control of the state apparatus. However, in most cases, the intent of state authorities is quite questionable.
This year’s April was filled with a series of disturbing news like a seer giving rape threats to Muslim women in the presence of police personnel, violent communal clashes in Rajasthan’s Karauli on April 2, JNU students getting attacked because of their food choice, Hindutva fanatics hoisting the saffron flag on the minaret of a mosque which eventually leads to communal clashes in Delhi’s Jahangirpuri, and so many more that will have gone unnoticed. When does it end?
As a rational human being, it’s my moral responsibility to stand in solidarity with people facing oppression due to their religious identity, counter anti-human, fascist propaganda at every level and do whatever I can to stop the transformation of the country into a “theocratic state – a state in which legal system is based on orthodox religious law, and government leaders are members of the clergy.