The Wire
Abbas Bhai, Forgive Me for Revealing Your Pain to the World
Asif was attacked by a group of people who tried to force him to say 'Jai Mata di'. His Muslim father and Hindu mother, instead of encouraging him to file a police complaint, want him to remain silent as they think it will be futile.
Abbas Bhai, Forgive Me for Revealing Your Pain to the World
The depth of the fault-line of religion cleaving our society is evident from the fact that a Muslim father can now give way to tears only behind closed doors. Representative image. Credit: Flickr/Milind Alvares CC BY NC-ND-2.0
[by] Punya Prasun Bajpai
Name: Asif; age: 25; educational qualification: graduate.
Father: Abbas; age: 55; profession: journalist.
Mother: Lakshmi; age: 48; profession: teaches journalism.
These are not their real names, but they capture the reality of an incident that was triggered by nothing more than a name and the religion indicated by it. An incident that Asif’s parents have chosen to keep quiet about, telling their son – we must refrain from voicing our pain, we must keep our sorrow under control, for it is our country, after all.
The depth of the fault-line of religion cleaving our society is evident from the fact that a Muslim father can now give way to tears only behind closed doors. The mother may be a Hindu, but she too has been stricken silent. Asif’s parents are not only well-educated, they have spent a lifetime working for prestigious media houses in Mumbai and Delhi – and continue to do so. Yet they have not been able to summon up the courage to tell the world about the incident that befell their son.
The harsh truth that I am about to disclose is for Union minister Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi and national spokesperson of the Bharatiya Janata Party Shanawaz Hussain in particular. It is important that they know about it because both happen to be part of the country’s ruling party and the immensely powerful government of the day.
While reading this account, these two esteemed personages may feel a certain twinge – their wives are Hindu, too; their children bear Muslim names as well and must have received the benefit of a good education. Moreover, the trauma suffered by Asif can be experienced by their children anytime, anywhere. This is so for the simple reason that when the poison of hatred is spread in the name of religion, nobody is safe – not even a youngster from a well-established background who was a meritorious student at an institution like the Scindia School. A young man who, following the traumatic incident, is full of anger, but is being told by his parents that he must not voice his anger; he must learn to keep it under control – “it is our country, after all”.
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Noida, which adjoins Delhi, is a spankingly modern city with edifices that house some of the biggest names in global business. Just two months ago, the president of South Korea made a visit to Noida. He was accompanied by the Indian prime minister. The Korean president had come to inaugurate Samsung’s largest cell phone manufacturing plant in the world. Obviously, when President Moon Jae-in inaugurated the plant, the world came to know of a most ‘modern’ city of India called Noida.
It was at a short distance from the plant that some boys surrounded Asif four days ago. It happened all of a sudden. The boys who were from a nearby village encircled Asif only because his friend bade him farewell before driving away, saying: “Asif, see you tomorrow in office. After I reach home I will tell Iqbal to prepare the project report soon.” That was all. The village lads who happened to be passing by overheard just one word – Asif.
It wasn’t a lonely spot, far from it. There’s a constant movement of people, a steady coming and going of professionals in an area which boasts a profusion of middle and upper-middle class residences. But that did not deter four or five boys from surrounding Asif and questioning him.
The boys asked: Is your name Asif?
Asif replied: Yes.
The boys said knowingly: Oh, you are a Muslim.
For a few moments Asif was nonplussed, unsure of what to say. His mother was a Hindu. They observed Ramzan and celebrated Eid, but so did they celebrate Diwali and Saraswati Puja.
The boys persisted: Why don’t you speak? Are you a Muslim?
Asif replied: Yes.
The boys instructed him: Say ‘Jai Mata di’.
Asif: What do you mean?
The boys shot back: No ‘what do you mean’. Just say ‘Jai Mata di’.
Asif asked: Why? I will say it when I want to. Why should I say it because you ask me to?
The boys became aggressive: No, you have to say ‘Jai Mata di’.
Asif stood his ground: I will not say it at your bidding, that’s for sure.
Suddenly one of the youths punched Asif.
Asif cried out: What is the meaning of all this? What are you doing, I say?
The boys sniggered: He speaks English, too. Say ‘Jai Mata di’.
Asif replied: I will see you.
That was it. Shouting “what the #*%# are you saying?”, the boys set upon Asif, punching and kicking him. All Asif could do was protest. He reached home with a swollen face.
What happened? Asif’s father cried out in alarm when he saw his son thus. After hearing him out, the father was in a daze. He wondered – what times are we living in?
Bubbling with anger, Asif wanted to lodge a complaint with the police, to teach his tormentors a lesson. His father quietened him down somehow. As evening gave way to dusk, Asif’s mother came home. She too had no idea of what to do. The distressed parents were doubtful if the police would take any action. It is difficult to have that kind of trust when in daylight in a ‘modern’ city, some boys can assault and traumatise one’s son so openly and with such impunity. Their son was qualified, much travelled; he was discerning. But even then he had to suffer such trauma.
The question before the parents was this: what to do? Their son was full of anger.
Then the father implored his son to keep quiet about the incident, keep his anger under control. He said: “This is our land, our country. If attempts are being made today to destroy social harmony, our response to it cannot be that of revenge.”
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Following the incident, the parents have been taking turns to stay at home with their son. They are constantly reasoning with him, telling him not to step out.
When the parents tell me about the incident, I am speechless. They tell me about the incident only to tell me to forget it, not speak about it. When I say we should go to the police station and seek to identify Asif’s tormentors, they get terribly agitated and request me not to do any such thing.
They tell me: “Please don’t do anything. We are trying to reason with our son, telling him that he must learn to keep his anger under control. It is our country, after all.”
I ask them: what kind of a nation are we shaping where the victims have to school themselves to fall silent.
Pat comes their response: “What will you accomplish? Who all will you be able to convince and how? Who will take action? Had there been any fear of law, would such a thing have happened? You know the response to similar incidents that are occurring in place after place.”
I urge them to think about the storm in their son’s heart. For such an incident to befall an educated young man in a city like this, what must be going on in his mind?
They reply: how do you want us to think? Shall we set out for a confrontation? Our request to you is that you do not mention this incident anywhere.
In the last 24 hours I have been mulling over things – have we become enfeebled or is there no rule of law in our land anymore? Or is it that the magnitude of poison being injected into our society is such that instead of taking the venom out we are being conditioned to ingesting it and keeping quiet about it.
I am unable to remain quiet about this incident. Forgive me Abbas bhai, for publicly revealing your anguish by writing about it. As a journalist that is what I am equipped for.
Translated from the Hindi original by Chitra Padmanabahan.
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