India stands at a crossroads. While the euphoria surrounding such developments may garner votes for the BJP, it risks eroding the fundamental essence of India. Modi’s apparent division of the country into ‘Us and Them’ may sow discord among communities. Destruction and demolition are never positive; they are crimes against unity … writes Kaliph Anaz
Thirty-two years constitute a brief span in a nation’s history, yet it mirrors the entire professional life of an individual. At the tender age of 25, I witnessed the demolition of the Babri Masjid, an event that marked the beginning of the construction of the Ram Mandir, inaugurated today by Prime Minister Narendra Modi. January 22 will be etched in history as the genesis of the Hindu nation, Bharath. Regrettably, December 6, 1992, not only witnessed the fall of the Babri Masjid but also marked the demise of a secular India. Coincidentally, it was my second birthday, a day when I felt reborn as a Muslim.
I watched the Babri Masjid’s destruction on a grainy black-and-white television at the Malayalee Samajam Hostel in Dadar. Having come to Mumbai with dreams of becoming a journalist, I secured my initial position as a subeditor/reporter at the Free Press Journal. At that time, I was a card-holding communist affiliated with all Communist Party of India (CPM) factions, excluding Mahila Samajam. Holding various party roles, including Joint Secretary of the Centre of Indian Trade Unions (CITU) and Secretary of the Alwaye unit of Sasthra Sahithya Parishat, a people’s science movement in Kerala, I actively participated in campaigns promoting science and societal progress.
The Parishath actively advocates for scientific education among children and spearheads several progressive initiatives, including campaigns for total literacy, smokeless kilns, and ensuring a toilet in every home. While the Communist party focused on advocating for a People’s Democratic Revolution, the Parishath uniquely campaigned for “science for social revolution.” I actively participated in all these campaigns, dedicating myself to laying the groundwork for a democratic revolution to establish a prosperous society free from hunger, illiteracy, unemployment, and homelessness.
I spent nearly 18 hours each day engaged in various activities. I worked as a supervisor in a rayon factory, which served as my primary source of income. Additionally, I fulfilled the role of a local reporter for the party’s mouthpiece, Deshabhimani. Simultaneously, I taught at a night education centre and took on responsibilities given by the party. In this demanding routine, there was no room for religious considerations, emphasizing my dedication to the overarching goals of social progress and justice. There were millions of youths like me. We were building a New India, brick by brick.
My commitment to these causes was unwavering, as evidenced by my rigorous schedule. During the Babri Masjid’s demolition, my commitment to secular ideals faced a profound test. Despite being engrossed in campaigns for a democratic revolution, I decided to embrace Islam on December 6, 1992, aligning myself with a community under attack. My neighbourhood milkman, the Dhoothwallah, was killed during his morning rounds. I witnessed his lifeless body lying amid a pool of milk mixed with blood. (A similar image was exhibited at London’s Tate Modern museum titled “Memorial” by Vivan Sundaram).
The atmosphere in Mumbai, already tense since October, became increasingly charged with sporadic incidents of violence during the Ratha Yatra campaign. The city was gripped by fear, evidenced by the changed slogans on Bombay suburban trains and the shift from popular Bollywood hits to Bhajans. Witnessing the destruction of the Masjid’s domes shattered my belief in the government’s intervention to protect it. Contrary to my expectations, the government remained passive, and the domes fell.
I saw the images of the destruction of three domes of the Masjid. For me, they were the pillars of the judiciary, executive and legislature. The fourth pillar was not much turned saffron Media. Till the demolition, I believed the Army under the command of the Congress government would take over the Masjid and the state BJP government under Kalyan Singh would be dismissed. The historic Masjid will be turned into a museum like Hagia Sophia. But nothing happened. There was no Prime Minister, there was no army and there was no judiciary. The domes were fallen. The leaders failed India.
On December 6, which happened to be a Sunday, I took a decisive step. The following day, I visited the general post office near Victoria Terminus in Bombay, where I purchased 100 postcards. I sat on the majestic steps of the largest post office in India. Operating on a minimal-cost model for an extended period, a postcard was my preferred method of writing letters. In an attempt to communicate the emotional turmoil I was experiencing and my resolution to embrace Islam, I penned letters to all my friends and mentors. Expressing a desire to adopt the name Azeez instead of Anaz, I believed in the adage that “the more Muslim, the merrier.” Anaz was secular, while Azeez was a Muslim.
One of my mentors, the renowned novelist OV Vijayan, responded to my letter later. In his reply, he foresaw a future where he and I would be marginalized in this country, a sentiment that lingered in my thoughts.
Vijayan’s words echoed as I observed Prime Minister Modi consecrating the Lord Ram statue at the newly constructed temple. The question arises: is India heading towards becoming Hindu Bharath, a move that may undermine the country’s essence, given its diverse cultural fabric? Mixing politics with religion has historically proven detrimental, as exemplified by neighbouring nations with internal religious strife.
India stands at a crossroads. While the euphoria surrounding such developments may garner votes for the BJP, it risks eroding the fundamental essence of India. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s apparent division of the country into ‘Us and Them’ may sow discord among communities. Destruction and demolition are never positive; they are crimes against unity.
Constructing a temple on a contested site only perpetuates disputes. Every religion preaches against hurting others’ feelings, yet the proposed path threatens to unravel the cohesive fabric of the nation. History serves as a warning, and we must not ignore the lessons it imparts. The country will bear the consequences of leadership that turned a blind eye to the people’s pleas during times of crisis. At 57, I may not witness the unfolding events, but I am aware that history has seldom favoured those who prioritize their race over humanity.