We’ve been labelled as terrorists, we’ve been accused of love jihad; ironically, the government wants us to stand for the national anthem, give our lives for the land, but at the same time, they deny us our land, call us anti-nationals.
ISRA MOHAMMED NADEEM SHAIKH
I remember reading the news as it first happened. January 1st, a government college in Udupi, six hijabi students, banned from entering their classrooms because they were veiled. I initially didn’t think of it too much- but when the issue snowballed its way into the High Court, every time my family tunes into the live proceedings, I hold my breath and sit in silence. It is an ode to my community, it is the only music I can sing for us. If you type up the word ‘hijab’, you’ll be swamped with news articles. The Times of India, The Indian Express, NDTV, India Today—Google Trends show that the rate at which the word was searched increased by ten times since the controversy began, and reached its peak. But what is the essence of this word? What does it mean in the context of a larger socio-religious population, and especially, a socio-religious population in India? I attempted to answer this question for myself, as someone who is not only Muslim in blood, but also liberal and unorthodox—and angry. When the waves of protest started one after another, and colleges and schools began to lick certain asses, I began to witness what it means to be a minority. Not minority in number, but in thought and intellect. People I considered friends and family started posting content endorsing BJP and their Hindutva ideology. My neighbours, who often sent biscuits and tea suddenly seemed distant, and I could feel the burning gaze of passers-by as I jogged with my scarf on my head in the name of exercise—when in reality I just wanted to escape the same thing flashing on my screen all day long. Just yesterday, my mother was harassed on the streets for wearing her religious attire. That’s when I started to see my place and the people I have passed by for three years straight. There is a group of old men who gather around seven and disperse at ten in the evenings.
They sit surrounding a segment of the footpath which also serves as the jogging track in my compound. They talk about everything from Dilip Kumar to their wives’ chutneys to miss-Kulkarni’s-fantastic-laddoos. And politics, of course. Old men and politics go together like bread and butter. I often cross this segment while on the way to buying groceries or even just pointlessly taking a stroll. I must admit, their conversations have become deeply disturbing these days- and sometimes when I walk through their circle, I hear throats being cleared or everyone collectively stops talking and immediately begins as I walk away. I didn’t pay much heed to it in the beginning, but their point has been made. Many videos of Muslim women being targeted have surfaced on the internet. It is the same men who have a problem with ‘women dressing scantily’ who also have a problem with ‘women covering up too much’. A recent video of a young woman in burka being heckled went viral as boys rounded her up in saffron scarves yelling ‘Jai Shri Ram’—and the courage she had to yell back at them as a lone woman against several men still sends shivers down my spine. She is Muskan. Remember her name—even though she might be just one of the million other unsung warriors, remember her name. But all of this has only made me more conscious of my identity.
It has forced me to go in search of what I have been avoiding for a long, long time. I started reading up, devouring books- anything to give me some guidance. I connected with old friends, extended family from my community, even random people I saw in common social circles. I didn’t come across anything new, anything I haven’t already read before or come across before, but I began seeing a trend. We’ve been labelled as terrorists, we’ve been accused of love jihad, every damn thing under the sun- but the people I interacted with were proud and welcoming. They wore their religion the way you wear a badge of honour. Of course, there are conservatives in every religion, but perhaps it was this new perspective that I approached my religion again with, that I was made to believe that there was something dangerously alluring to me about taking my religious identity more seriously. And I fell in love, and never looked back. ‘You want to see our heads? What you should be looking at is our Education, at our Policies and Rights.’ That’s a quote I heard a burka-clad woman saying at a protest in Karnataka last month. I have never agreed more. We don’t want the sympathies of different communities advocating for freedom against wearing the hijab. Of course, there are cases that require attention and support, especially those which involve abusive or forcible households- that is a different issue altogether. That doesn’t happen just in Muslim communities, it happens in all religions, across all cultures. What we actively want you to protest for is basic human rights— allowing us to exist the way we are, without fearing for our lives every time we step out of our houses. Ironically, the government wants us to stand for the national anthem, give our lives for the land, but at the same time, they deny us our land, call us anti-nationals. “The two think tanks of Hindutva ideology,” Lal Dena, from The Wire writes, “Thus lay down three essentials of Hindutva, namely, a common nation (Hindu Rashtra), a common race (jati), and a common civilisation (sanskriti). In Savarkar’s vision of Hindu Rashtra (Hindu nation) there is only one culture that is a Hindu culture: there is only one language, that is Hindi and there is only one religion, that is Hinduism.” Scary, but so very real at the same time, to me, it seems that the human race just doesn’t learn from history.
I am reminded of Nazism, and what it did to the Jews. I see a similar fate looming over every other religion as well, as the government slowly begins its process of ethnic cleansing. The recent High Court proceedings don’t give me much hope either. Even if they do turn out to be in our favour, I doubt they will continue being that way. One day a judge is going to take that seat and he is going to pass a verdict that will affect my community. And I am terrified of that one day. I can’t say for sure where I find myself in this context, but there is one thing I would like to state. You can call me a hypocrite if you wish, but I have never felt more at home in my religion than I feel today. I may not know the answers I have been searching for, and maybe I never will- but I am proud, and I will fight if I have to protect my family, my friends and my people. I now look at my burka the way the men in a Raymond’s ad look at their suits. And I continue wearing the hijab as I have- and I continue to walk through that segment of the footpath with my head held high.
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