For a few years now, growing intolerance, ultra nationalism and Islamophobia have dominated public discourse in India.
The current notion is that India, a country that enshrin
Are fears that this country is steadily progressing towards being a Hindu Rashtra alarmist in nature? Do they have any credence? What happened to the so-called majoritarian secularists? Do they even exist anymore? Is the outcry of minorities drowned under rabid extremism? Are protests such as #NotInMyName by liberals mere hashtags and no more? Is the country’s pseudo-secular garb slowly but steadily slipping away to lay threadbare our prejudices about the ‘other’?
It would be naïve to assume that the religious divide is a brand new phenomenon. India has had a history of communal violence: the anti-Sikh riots in 1984, the Babri Masjid demolition in 1992 and the ensuing riots, and the Godhra riots in 2002 are all ugly zits on the face of our recent history.
We have been divided on communal and caste lines since our very Independence. We have always been a nation of biases: so what is really different now?
Some may argue that social media has been the game-changer. It has given anyone and everyone with an Internet connection a voice to express their biases. Well, that may be a part of the problem, but that’s not all.
What is shocking is how most of us hardly flinch before brandishing our religious leanings online, in full public view. Here I speak for both ends of the continuum – the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ narrative has made sure that you are stereotyped either as a radical Muslim or a right-wing Sanghi. There is little sane middle ground left for anybody to inhabit.
If you are not with them then you most definitely must be against them.
The politics of fear – and this is not just an Indian phenomenon, the strategy seems to work globally – has always managed to polarize. An increasingly bigoted society is always afraid and it doesn’t matter then whether you are a part of the majority or minority community.
This is how it works: people being afraid that their next-door Muslim neighbour might secretly have extremist leanings or at the very least, be an apologist for the various acts of terror perpetuated by people with similar names. Being an urban Indian Muslim myself, I am distraught when I get cold glances at work when a bomb explodes in Europe or when Kashmiris pelt stones at the security forces.
I have never set foot in Kashmir nor espoused the cause of radical Islam. Why then is my Muslim name interpreted as my acceptance of terror when I don’t even remotely agree with the concept?
Religious stereotyping and racial profiling have of late become a universal phenomenon and most of us have learnt to live with it and internalize the moral outrage they generate.
What one never gets used to is the insensitivity of the people one interacts with daily – where they see no need to filter their opinion about the ‘other’. There is a total failure to understand that terror has no religion.
How difficult is it for some to understand that systematically brainwashed individuals capable of mass-murder and suicide bombings cannot be responding to the call of the Almighty? Their actions have less to do with religious leanings and more to do with an aberrant state of mind. And, thus, expecting any rational person to condone such behaviour is abhorrent.
India doesn’t need to become more tolerant or inclusive. It just needs to challenge the politics of fear that makes us fear our neighbours, colleagues and acquaintances – all painted in one broad brushstroke as the deviant ‘others’.