Borders are Made of These

How many dead? Seven. And suddenly the Indian Parliament has woken up. Until the other day they had brought everything to a standstill because our defence department was accused of importing aluminum caskets for our martyrs of Kargil, which were not even used for the purpose. Apparently, it was some recyclable material. It caused an uproar. People were screaming, as is the wont in good democracies. And now five terrorists manage to get into close range of this citadel, kill seven people, not one parliamentarian, mind you, and our defence ministry gets a shot in the arm.

I must let you in on the prevalent discussions in the so-called elite society to which I am supposed to belong. When the bomb blasts happened after the Bombay riots, there were any number of people, and I am talking about those from the majority community, who said, “If they had to do this, they should have targeted Mantralaya (the seat of government in the city) and we would have all been happy.”

The same comments have been made at different times whenever such a disaster has taken place. But now it is time for national mourning. Or a bravura performance. It happened in the Pentagon, so it can happen to us, they are saying. Sanjay Nirupam of the Shiv Sena was telling someone on the phone, and loud enough for bystanders to listen to him, “If we die, we will take ten of them with us.” Ho-hum.

They entered Parliament. They managed to get a sneak look into the House (watch the TV pictures of the terrorist taken from inside Parliament). Now, Mr. L.K.Advani says it was a fidayeen attack, if they could do this in the USA, then why not us? But, there were air strikes on the Pentagon and Twin Towers – here you had these fellows driving in, coming out of their vehicles and managing to get close to three gates. And they were just five men. Anyone who has visited Parliament, and I have, knows that there is a huge security cordon at all times and more so when Parliament is in session.

Anyhow, now that this has happened, be sure that no one will have the courage to oppose POTO. After all, they were all there and witness to this dastardly act, were they not? Even Sonia Gandhi will have to keep quiet, though she was not there, simply because if she speaks out against the anti-terrorism bill, it would reveal her insensitivity.

If we track the strategy of terrorism in India we will note that while they target establishments like airports and the commercial hub, places of worship and common areas where people congregate, after the September 11 attacks, our government institutions have come into focus – earlier it was Srinagar, now Delhi. Whatever happened to the good old days when poor innocents were shot down in the crossfire?

Our Prime Minster, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, says, “The Parliament of 100 crore Indians accepts the challenge thrown by terrorists.” Where was this Parliament all these years when the challenge was greater? And does it strike the PM that among these 100 crore people, some are indeed terrorists themselves? Or is it only the Taliban and the Pakistanis that are creating havoc? For god’s sake, we even have an American who fought alongside the Taliban. What about the JKLF? The Naxalites? The ULFA? All Indians.

At this point in time, the man to be pitied the most is General Pervez Musharraf. He will be held indirectly responsible for anything that happens in our subcontinent. Which is why Benazir Bhutto made that sweet little visit to India, and we are forgetting that it was she who spoke about bleeding us through a thousand cuts. She can talk all the Sindhi she wants with Advani but, having done that, she has lost every right to make noises about Indian Muslims and their suffering.

Why am I bringing the Indian Muslims into this? Because immediately after listening to the news, I got a call and the only question was, “So, will there be problems for us now? Any riots?” I said, no, nothing at all. Was I lying?



I watch the serial ‘Sarhedein’ on Zee TV. A Pakistani boy falls in love with an Indian girl in Kuala Lumpur. She is a Hindu. He follows her to India. Her brother is fighting on the front against the Pakis. Aman and Chandni could have been a model, but it will not happen. Because we do not want it to. I recall how upset I was when he tells her without even thinking twice, “Hum nikaah kar lenge.” Why was I put off? Because he assumed that a nikaah was the only way to get married. That being a man he had the right to decide. I realised that we have a long way to go.

It is only getting worse. His family in Pakistan is wondering why he has gone to India at all. You can see their hatred. And in India her father will not accept such a ridiculous idea like two adults being able to make their own destiny. But seeing the determination of his daughter, he puts a couple of conditions before Aman, “After marriage you will have to stay in India and accept our religion.” Aman is silent. So was I. Does being Indian or Pakistani, Hindu or Muslim mean that you have to completely overhaul yourself to be accepted by another who claims to love you? Does love mean anything at all?

And on what grounds does the old man taunt his wife, who has begun to accept the idea of Aman as a son-in-law, that she should stop doing puja because her daughter will be praying five times with her hands outstretched, she will have her head covered and eat biryani? All this is said with exaggerated gestures ridiculing the customs of a community. Have they not seen modern and westernised Muslims in India? Don’t we take pride over this? Is this how Hindus see Muslims? I did not specify Pakistani Muslims because in this strange land called Bharat, where the action is currently taking place, we are not shown any Indian Muslims yet. (Though there are references to a brother who stayed back instead of migrating to the pure land.) Therefore, there seems to be just one prototype from across the border, and that too a limited if not flawed one.



Is the hate so ingrained? We hear about how ordinary people are welcomed in both countries. So why is this so inadequately conveyed by our media? There may be a couple of characters who understand, but they are the backdrop, not the ones who make decisions. And this is what affects people.

It is not uncommon for Indian Muslims to be asked, “So, what do you think of those Pakistani jihadis? Would you settle down there?” And I know of one Pakistani gentleman who asked this Indian Muslim woman who he called forward and different, “How must it feel sleeping with Hindu rats?”

Are there any answers? Do such questions require honest responses? Are these queries posed with any degree of concern for the other person? Are borders meant to delineate the land or to fence the mind?

I think an injustice is being done to both sides. We, the people, want to know why we are being stopped from loving others only because they come from a different country and religion. We want to know why we have to be a part of the war against terrorism but we cannot fight against the terror of always being expected to say the right things. We want to know why Muslims in India have to behave like loyal dogs when they are being asked to find their own utopia. We want to know why some Pakistanis have such narrow ideas about Hindus and, worse, about Indian Muslims.

Is this about the Quran? The Vedas? I am at a loss because I cannot accept that we should blame others for our problems. I cannot understand what is the big deal about cross-cultural alliances and marriages. I cannot comprehend it when a Pakistani who claims to be like me – we both talk to ourselves and call that praying – suddenly tells me that our perspectives will always be different. If this is not about religion, then what is it? Nationalities? This person would have merrily left and found a good job overseas, but put him against yourself and he is claiming, “I will protect my country and family at any cost.” Against what? Me?

And am I equipped to protect my country against terrorists? My PM wants me to. I don’t want to. Because I think that if I join this ideological war, the blood will only congeal in my heart. Besides, it is not even my ideology. I do not believe in fighting a battle on borrowed ideas. My enemies are only those who want to rob me of my identity, wherever they are. It is not arrogance, but my little island from where I have been able to see the shore more clearly.

Yes, I have always taken extreme positions, but today I have only one small prayer to offer that unseen god of small things: Please keep me on the fence. From here I shall make my own borders – that hazy line where the sky meets the sea.