“When the framers of our Constitution defined a secular India, they tried their best to put in checks and balances to protect our minorities, without at the same time taking away the rights of the majority. Reasonable people may disagree with their definition of secularism, but they did a masterful job of understanding what it takes to preserve the integrity of our nation of nations. But even they couldn't have foreseen how one of the most egalitarian Constitutions in the world could be rendered impotent overnight by our entrenched personal prejudices for the `other'.”

-- Raju Rajagopal, “Letter to Chachaji” The Hindu, March 26, 2002

I had promised the HfHR team that I would write a blog today in observance of the 20th anniversary of the anti-Muslim pogroms in Gujarat, which had started on February 27-28, 2002.

I had intended to write about my initiation to the Gujarat events through the Coalition Against Communalism (CAC), which had regrouped in the Bay Area to organize a protest march at the Indian Consulate in San Francisco on March 26, 2002. 

I had wanted to share highlights and photographs from the NRI Sadhbhavna Mission to India in September 2002, which included Nishrin Jafri, whose father Ehsan Jafri was hacked to death in front of his own home in Chamanpura, Ahmedabad. 

Our delegation visited emergency camps for displaced families in and around Ahmedabad and met with NGOs who were caring for them. We also met with activists, Gandhians, and opposition politicians; with the hostile Gujarati media, which had acted as inciters of the pogroms; and with opposition parties (Narendra Modi himself had refused to see us). 

In Delhi, we met with late Justice Verma of the National Human Rights Commission; with activists such as the late Swami Agnivesh and Admiral Ramdas; with politicians including Sonia Gandhi and senior members of the Congress Party, Chandrababu Naidu, CPI, CPIM, etc., and with the President of India, Abdul Kalam. 

I had also wanted to share anecdotes from my subsequent visits to Gujarat to work with civil society groups, which were struggling to rehabilitate victims and to bring the perpetrators to justice, while also organizing efforts to promote communal harmony—for example, a cricket match between Hindu and Muslim girls, presided over by Sunil Gavaskar, P.T. Usha, Deep Sethi, Dhanraj Pillai, and other stars.

I had even wanted to share my more recent visit to the much-maligned majority Muslim neighborhood of Juhapura (which is often described by middle class Gujaratis as “mini-Pakistan”).  I had found that the residents there did not have the luxury of dwelling on the past, as they were focused on educating their children and fighting for basics like roads, water, power, and healthcare, which seemed to be finally bearing some fruit. 

But above all, the memory of that day in September 2002, when we silently trooped behind Nishrin as she entered her childhood home lying in burnt-out shambles for the first time since the pogroms, with tears welling in her eyes, is hard to erase even after twenty years. If this was the fate of a family that had championed communal harmony and had wanted to prove that Hindu and Muslims could live together in the same space, what kind of fate awaits ordinary Muslim families in Gujarat? 

I think we now know the answer. 

Back to my promise of a blog: After listening to the speakers on the first day of the “India at the Brink - Preventing Genocide” conference this weekend, I am overwhelmed with the memories of twenty years of battles fought and wars lost with Hindu nationalism. And I realize that anecdotal stories of my own journey will have to take a back seat for now. The journey that we all need to focus on now is that of Hindu nationalism hatred from its ‘laboratory’ in Gujarat in 2002 to ‘full scale production’ of hate speech in Delhi in 2022.

Nonetheless, there is one story that I wrote in the March 26, 2002 issue of The Hindu that I would like to share. As I re-read the story this morning, I was stunned by how much of what I had written two decades ago remains valid even today, but on a much larger scale of alarm. 

Here it is: 

MY DEAR chachaji,

We are all shocked, outraged, and saddened by the recent events in Gujarat. The unholy nexus between religion and politics seems to have once again taken the lives of hundreds of innocent people in the very birthplace of Gandhiji. Our friends in Ahmedabad tell us that the state machinery has been openly complicit in attacks against Muslims, and provocateurs are trying to disrupt even relief lines to riot-torn families. We have also seen reports of peace marchers being harassed and concerned citizens being intimidated into silence. All this in a state where, just over a year ago, civil society had responded so marvelously to the disastrous earthquake, and had set an example for the rest of the country.

Don't you think there is something terribly wrong with a society where otherwise decent people, whether in Godhra or in Ahmedabad, can set fire to women and children? And law enforcement officials can stand on the sidelines making excuses for mob violence? "It is the Hindu psyche," reportedly asserted one police official. `Psychosis' may have been a more apt description.

How did we ever let things get to this stage? Chachaji, I can almost hear you: "It is those damn politicians. A bunch of corrupt goondas who run our country!" But are they the real culprits?

Deep down, who is letting those politicians and the so-called religious leaders get away with mass murder? I think it is you and I, ordinary citizens, who refuse to confront our misconceptions, ill feelings and, sometimes, outright hostility towards other communities even during peaceful times. When violence does break out, we stand on the sidelines, mute spectators, shackled to our biases, unable to stir. I think it is we who provide the oxygen in which extremists thrive and wreak havoc on our communities. We are the guilty party.

An unfair indictment, you think? I have thought about it long and hard. And my mind keeps harking back to our long discussions on how, through their silence, ordinary Germans allowed the Nazis to co-opt them in their platform of hatred for the Jews. Don't you see an eerie parallel in the deafening silence of civil society in Gujarat following its own `kristallnacht'?

Remember how often you and I used to debate international politics (much to chachiji's consternation?) But when is the last time you and I had an honest discussion about our Muslim citizens? Yes, yes, I think I know your views on the matter. I have heard you and Papaji often talk about "those Mussalmans." I have even sheepishly laughed at bigoted jokes by my dear cousins. But the fact of the matter is that I never had the courage to confront any of you with my true feelings. Why unnecessarily hurt the feelings of my near and dear? Guilty on Count Two.

Chachaji, all that changed last week as we witnessed the mayhem. I have decided that enough is enough. I shall hold my tongue no more! I am convinced that true harmony will come to India only when we start openly embracing one another's humanity. And that is not going to happen by merely talking to, or at, `other' community. We must begin an honest dialogue about our prejudices within our own community — with parents, uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters, cousins, and neighbours. And hope that saner voices in other communities will do likewise.

Shall we then, you and I, begin today by placing our own biases on the table?

Chachaji, I have always known you as a well-read, fair-minded person, who in his heart believes in a secular, tolerant, democratic society. Yet when it comes to our fellow Muslims, you have always seemed ambivalent. And, if I may say so, ever since the BJP came to power, that ambivalence seems to be slowly turning into resentment. I can understand the trauma that your generation went through with Partition, the wars with Pakistan, the situation in Kashmir and, more recently, the bane of terrorism. But laying every real or imagined historical wrong at the doorsteps of today's Muslim citizens? That is what the Sangh Parivar has been trying to do for decades, with few takers. And now, even those who should know better are beginning to casually toss around terms like `self-hating Hindu' and `pseudo-secularist' in their discourse. It gives me the sinking feeling that they are succeeding, after all, in their sinister plan to steal our souls.

"If they don't like it, let them go back to Pakistan!" How often have we heard this from relatives and friends around the comfort of our dinner table? I don't recall anyone, not you, not me, ever object. We could have. We could have told them that, like you and me Indian Muslims too grew up in their own villages and towns, with their own parents and grandparents, and with their own set of prejudices. That no one has the right to question the legitimacy of an entire community in a democratic society. And when we set them apart, we are making a bold leap of faith that the Hindu community is a monolith, an illusion that the VHP has been trying hard to foist upon us. Chachaji, if we don't say NO to demonising an entire community today, can `Marwaris go home' and `Tamil Nadu for Tamils' be very far behind? Uncomfortable as it may be, let us face the reality: India is home to the third largest Muslim community in the world, and they are here to stay.

What about Ram uncle's favourite grievance, "Why should only Muslims be allowed four wives and triple talaq?" Remember my response, "Uncle aren't you happy with auntie?" I wasn't trying to be funny. It is one thing if we Hindus feel that laws regulating our personal lives are unjust — we have had plenty of opportunity to rectify them, and we have. It is quite another when we deliberately attack another community under the guise of the uniform civil code. Does uncle seriously believe that polygamy among Muslims is the norm, and monogamy among Hindus universal? What about those `two-timing' relatives of ours whose antics uncle used to humorously refer to as `Krishn Leela?"

Sure, a uniform code would be a wonderful thing to have. But, as per our Constitution, any initiative for legal reform must come from the minorities themselves... if only we, the majority, would give them the breathing room for debate. When we haven't been able to reform ourselves on matters of child marriage, dowry harassment, treatment of widows, and pernicious discrimination against Dalits, nearly 50 years after adopting the Constitution, what gives us the right to expect Muslims to change their traditions overnight?

"Indian cricket has sunk to rock bottom," bemoaned Praveen mama the other day, as we were watching a one-day match together. For a man being swept away by Hindutva, he wasn't just trashing the Indians, but he was actually admiring Pakistani gamesmanship! Thank goodness, the Sena hasn't gotten to him yet. We couldn't resist the temptation to ask him how he would have reacted had an Indian Muslim expressed the same views as he had. He stared at us for a long moment and didn't say a word. But I think he understood. Understood how absurd it is that the game of cricket had become the ultimate litmus test for a Muslim's loyalty. Do you see what an awkward position we have placed our minorities in? Unlike mamaji, they can't even appreciate a good game when they see one, let alone talk about their friends and relatives in Pakistan, without their `loyalty' being questioned.

And what does our society offer in return for `loyalty'? Equality in public life?

Remember our search for a flat last year? As we were getting ready to close a deal, we casually inquired about the other owners. "Don't worry sir, we don't sell to any Muslims," shot back the sales lady. As we stormed out of her office in utter disbelief, I don't think the poor woman understood what the fuss was all about. Then I remembered the evening when mummy had just returned from her chit-chat with neighbours, and had anxiously shared the gossip that a Christian family was moving in next door. "At least they are not Muslims" she had consoled herself! Poor mummy has sure come a long way since, but I am not so sure of the rest of our society. So I wasn't in the least surprised when our old neighbour Mehta Saab, who only a few years ago was ready to disown his daughter for marrying a Muslim boy, accosted me recently with a plea to help find employment in the U.S. for his son-in-law. "He's having a tough time with his Mohammedan name," he confided. So much for `appeasing' the minorities.

Speaking of `appeasement,' chachaji, I notice that you too have started to use that term lately. But, tell me, why is the term used only in the context of minorities, and only when it comes to Congress-bashing? Aren't political parties of every hue and colour pandering to this or that voting block all the time, whether it's the minorities or the Dalits or OBCs? Why even the BJP made flimsy attempts sometime ago (and failed miserably) to woo Dalits and Muslims. So why is appeasement so sinister when it comes to Muslims, when it is the name of the game in a democratic society? Only, here in America, we call it lobbying. If, on the other hand, by appeasement, they mean that Muslims are getting preferential treatment over Hindus, what a laughable claim, when every reasonable socio-economic indicator presents a sorry picture of the state of India's Muslims? Frankly, `appeasement' is an RSS red-herring and many of us, unfortunately, are falling for it.

That brings me to chachiji, the gentlest human being that I have ever known. Anything and everything I know today about our traditions and our religion, I owe it to her. Those wonderful stories from the Ramayan and the Mahabharat that she used to tell us as children are some of the best memories of my childhood. Thanks to her gifts of Amar Chitra Katha, our children too have acquired a great sense of our open and tolerant culture. They can hold their own on a discussion of the psyche of Karna or the subtle meanings behind Lord Rama's controversial actions.

As far as I am concerned, chachiji wouldn't hurt a fly if she tried. So when she would talk about her wonderful tailor, and used to add a postscript, "Poor chap, he is a Muslim," it never used to bother me. I wasn't going to give her a lecture on patronisation and stereotyping. When she used to come home from her Veda classes and tell us how even a Dalit or a Muslim can be a Brahmin, "if only he is pure of heart," I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. How was I ever going to explain to her that maybe Muslims didn't aspire to Brahminhood? I never tried. Of late, she has been talking about how great Hindu society might have been, but for all those brutal Muslim invasions. Having just returned from a trip to Somnath, how could I argue with her? But when I asked her yesterday what she thought of the Gujarat violence, and she said, ``What can we do? They did it first," it hit me like a ton of Ramjanmbhoomi bricks! She was now on their side! Methodically, step by step, they had managed to steal my dear chachiji's soul too.

What am I to do now? Tell her grand children that her Ram, whom they remember so fondly, is the same Ram Lalla who wants a shrine built for him `at any cost'? Even if it be a mountain of dead Indians? That the Mandir she so aspires is to be built with bricks of hatred and the mortar of intolerance?

Chachaji, when the framers of our Constitution defined a secular India, they tried their best to put in checks and balances to protect our minorities, without at the same time taking away the rights of the majority. Reasonable people may disagree with their definition of secularism, but I think they did a masterful job of understanding what it takes to preserve the integrity of our nation of nations. But even they couldn't have foreseen how one of the most egalitarian Constitutions in the world could be rendered impotent overnight by our entrenched personal prejudices for the `other.' As I write this, Gujarat appears close to a constitutional meltdown. A highly communalised citizenry seems to have taken the law (or should I say lawlessness) into its own hands, with the acquiescence of the State. And no one — not the Central Government, not the judiciary, not even the National Human Rights Commission — seems ready to challenge the "Tyranny of the Majority."

As a social activist from the frontlines of Gujarat told us, "This is not the time for us to feel ashamed of being a Hindu, or a Muslim, or an Indian. It is our silence that we should be ashamed of." Chachaji, don't you think it is time for you and I to break our silence? Shall we make a start by shouting from the rooftops, as loudly as we can, that the Sangh Parivar does not represent us? That they profane Hinduism.

For the sake of our country and our future generations, let us reclaim our souls now, before it is too late.

I remain (I hope) your favourite nephew

RAJU

(Raju Rajagopal is a member of Coalition Against Communalism, an umbrella group recently formed in California, U.S., to work on communal harmony, peace and justice for all in India)