8th Dec 1992: An afternoon I vividly remember today even on
its 20th anniversary. I had turned 6 and was jumping and dancing
around whole house because of my birthday party supposed to be celebrated in
eve. All my colony friends and their kin were invited. The expected events
included cake cutting, numerous kids’ games, and of course, the most desired
gifts. Mine being a big family, we hardly had birthdays for everyone those
days. In fact if I may remember, it was one of my few birthdays ever celebrated
at home. My brother’s friends (all of
age 11-12) were lending him a hand in spreading ribbons and inflating balloons.
Aroma of delicacies like Rasgullas, chole, custard, sandwiches and dozen other
delicacies was pervasive across the rooms.
A perfect memorable evening was on the cards. Suddenly my dad’s friend
who was a DIG in Police appeared at the door. They indulged in a serious
conversation for around 10 minutes before he left. Dad (Abbu is what I call
him) took some heavy steps towards the living room’s sofa and called for Mom.
After ten minutes Mom asked me to pack few clothes and stuff of mine
immediately. She said we were going to stay at a relative’s place outside the
city for the next few days. Aghast as I was, I cried infuriatingly. What about
my birthday party? What would my friends say? Mom was too perplexed to explain
and I was too small to understand what was going on.
As it turned out, on 6th December,1992 Babri
Masjid was demolished in Ayodhya, around 120 km away from Lucknow. The event was
unfolded after a series of religious fanaticism, demagogic oratory and mud-slinging
from the leaders of both religious communities in an unprecedented manner in the
history of independent India. In the aftermath of the demolition, communal
riots broke out in various parts of the country. Mine was a ‘hindu-dominated
area’. Such terms like hindu-dominated, muslim-dominated which were in oblivion
before the demolition, have become essential ingredients of every media report
ever since.
So Abbu’s DIG friend came to abreast him with the tensed
situation and a possible communal attack on our home. He advised us to move to
a safer location for few days. I, alien to all these happenings, was agonized.
To console me, my brother’s friends gave me the gifts in noon instead of
customary tradition of giving them at the time of party. Among the gifts, there
was a book on stories of Mahabharata and Hindu mythologies.
As we spend the next ten days at the outskirts of city,
elders indulged in conversations involving uncertainty and impending dangers. I
was, though engrossed in the stories of Mahabharata day in and day out. The
book was in Hindi, and many terms were indigestible for me so I kept bugging
elders every time. Ironic it may sound, but when everyone around me was
deliberating how cruel Muslims are and how bad Hindus are; I, a 6 yr old kid,
was being fascinated by the stories of Arjuna’s bravery, Eklavya’s sacrifice
and Yudhisthar’s magnanimity. All my growing years, I used to flaunt my grip on
these stories in front of my ‘’Hindu’’ friends and teased them on me knowing
more. Little did they know how much that book played a role in me acquiring
that knowledge.
Today looking back, I find a profound impact of that book and those
ten days
on me being a staunch liberal and secular individual. What helped me was the fact that even at the height
of communal hatred, Abbu never desisted me from reading a book on Hindu
mythologies. Today, Babri Masjid/ Ram Janmbhoomi issue is in obscurity. None of
the major newspapers have given any prime footage to the story on its 20th
anniversary. People born in 1990s may hardly apprehend what a dreaded monster
that issue was once. But the seeds of communal hatred are still not dead. People might let the issue go, but those who
stand to benefit from it, notably politicians, will never stop infusing life in
it.
I, as a silent
onlooker can’t hope to change much. But given a chance, I would like to see
more kids exchanging Islamic story books and Hindu mythological stories with
each other on their birthdays.
