Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Twenty Two – Thoughts on the Palestinian problem.
"Are you from India or from Pakistan"
I looked back… an aged person, who seemed to be an Indian… and was traveling to Jerusalem with his family… had asked this question to me. I said I am an Indian; so was he… only that his forefathers chose to settle in South Africa some 100 years ago. His ancestral home was in Pune.
"Sorry, if I may ask… are you a Muslim, Jew or a Christian". He wondered. I was none; I was a born Hindu, espousing the Buddhist philosophy… I could have been an atheist, but for a strange turn of events a few years back, that led me to believe that there was something super-natural. Call it God, call it Allah or call it Parameshwar. I, though, call him Shiva. But there was a very special aspect of my beliefs… that I came to know only when I was closing to Jerusalem.
"No sir, I am a Hindu… though had all my education in a Christian Missionary… and somehow feel close to Jesus, the Lord", I replied. Normally I wouldn’t have said that… This must have been a Freudian slip. The last time I went to a Church, out of devotion, was way back in 2001 when I went to Mount Mary Church in Bandra, with a Roman Catholic friend of mine… But there was something magical in the very thought of nearing a place where Jesus was born or crucified, where he lived for the well being of humanity, to take upon the pains we suffer from, to show us the way of the Lord.
The old man was a Muslim… he was accompanied by his wife, his son, his daughter in law, and grand children. He worked in Amman, whereas rest of his family lived in Durban. As we neared the city of Jerusalem… he said something profound… He said- "This is the place that is the root of the entire problem in the Muslim world, from Morocco to Indonesia".
This was profound… It set me thinking if it is really so. How can a problem of Islamic radicalism in Indonesia or Bangladesh be related to Israeli occupation of Jerusalem. How can a brazen bombing in Casablanca derive its justification from the plight of Palestinians? … It is difficult to imagine this… but the pan Islamism is a truth, a stark truth… somehow a Muslim sitting in far flung corner of Indonesia identifies with the Palestinian cause… there is a unique sense of solidarity in suffering. However, it has a dark underbelly to it. Who leads this solidarity, who creates an atmosphere for this solidarity to germinate… does it have a political angle, and if it is used by some to propagate their leadership in an otherwise egalitarian religion.
I have always believed that the Palestine is an issue that concerns the entire humanity… it is an issue that should bother you and me, despite our religious affiliation. It is a question of ethics and morality… but in last few years this issue has been high jacked by religious fundamentalists. The Palestinian problem has been projected as a Muslim problem… as if no Christian lives in Palestine… as if a non-Muslim does not and should not have a locus standi on this issue. I, who has always believed in the teachings of Gandhi, feel disenfranchised- I feel somebody violates my right to support Palestinians in their struggle- just for being a non-Muslim.
It is very sad to see that a struggle that should have based itself on principles of justice, equality and truth… has deteriorated into a struggle emanating from hatred against the west and Jews… has got mutilated by a sense of ethnocentrism… a sense that assumes that American girls are of easy virtue just because they party and wear swim suits… and that assumes that Hindus are lowly creatures because they believe in Pantheism. I have heard many a times on the roads of Cairo, people voicing extreme hatred for Jews… and how all of them should be killed. It is not healthy. A wrong can't be undone by another wrong. An eye for an eye makes everybody blind. This is what Gandhi said… this is what the benevolence of Islam teaches.
The route to Jerusalem is a barren land… but the terrain is such that makes you exclaim. Road to Jerusalem is fenced on both the sides… the security measures are evident… on the road you start seeing signboards announcing the proximity of places like Ramallah, Jericho, Beit Sohour. For last two years, everyday I have heard names of these cities… mostly in the context of some Israeli attack or some demonstration. It was a strange feeling to be among it all.
Far away, I saw one of the most beautiful sights- the Golden dome of the Al Aqsa mosque complex. Jerusalem is recognized by it. One has to see it, to relish its beauty.
The bus dropped me at a place called Damascus Gate in East Jerusalem. It is one of the most important inlets to the Old City. Made in mid 1500s by the Ottomans… Damascus gate has witnessed the ravages of time, the tyranny of history… it stands as testimony to the vagaries of time.
I checked into a small place called New Palm Hostel… I was lucky to have arrived at this place… the place is small, outwardly shabby... but the atmosphere inside is friendly, warm and I met few very interesting characters over there.
East Jerusalem is almost totally Arabic and Muslim, with some small quarters of Christians. The chaotic markets make you wonder if you are in Israel or some crowded neighbourhood of Cairo or Damascus, though the similarity ends here… one more blink and you start seeing young conscripts with an automatic rifle in their hands, guarding the entire place… boys and girls, black and whites… they are a part of an experiment to create a society based on religion and religion only… without a dose of ethnicity, nationality and cultural similarity or lack of it. Pure religious identity. And on the face of it… it seems to be a successful experiment.
The owner of the place is from Hebron, an affable personality. The hostel was crowded by young Japanese girls, who seemed to be staying there for months…. There were few other families… Free internet, free tea and coffee and free dinner… the place was shoestring and yet very comfortable.
My next stop was going to be Bethlehem… the birth place of Jesus.
I looked back… an aged person, who seemed to be an Indian… and was traveling to Jerusalem with his family… had asked this question to me. I said I am an Indian; so was he… only that his forefathers chose to settle in South Africa some 100 years ago. His ancestral home was in Pune.
"Sorry, if I may ask… are you a Muslim, Jew or a Christian". He wondered. I was none; I was a born Hindu, espousing the Buddhist philosophy… I could have been an atheist, but for a strange turn of events a few years back, that led me to believe that there was something super-natural. Call it God, call it Allah or call it Parameshwar. I, though, call him Shiva. But there was a very special aspect of my beliefs… that I came to know only when I was closing to Jerusalem.
"No sir, I am a Hindu… though had all my education in a Christian Missionary… and somehow feel close to Jesus, the Lord", I replied. Normally I wouldn’t have said that… This must have been a Freudian slip. The last time I went to a Church, out of devotion, was way back in 2001 when I went to Mount Mary Church in Bandra, with a Roman Catholic friend of mine… But there was something magical in the very thought of nearing a place where Jesus was born or crucified, where he lived for the well being of humanity, to take upon the pains we suffer from, to show us the way of the Lord.
The old man was a Muslim… he was accompanied by his wife, his son, his daughter in law, and grand children. He worked in Amman, whereas rest of his family lived in Durban. As we neared the city of Jerusalem… he said something profound… He said- "This is the place that is the root of the entire problem in the Muslim world, from Morocco to Indonesia".
This was profound… It set me thinking if it is really so. How can a problem of Islamic radicalism in Indonesia or Bangladesh be related to Israeli occupation of Jerusalem. How can a brazen bombing in Casablanca derive its justification from the plight of Palestinians? … It is difficult to imagine this… but the pan Islamism is a truth, a stark truth… somehow a Muslim sitting in far flung corner of Indonesia identifies with the Palestinian cause… there is a unique sense of solidarity in suffering. However, it has a dark underbelly to it. Who leads this solidarity, who creates an atmosphere for this solidarity to germinate… does it have a political angle, and if it is used by some to propagate their leadership in an otherwise egalitarian religion.
I have always believed that the Palestine is an issue that concerns the entire humanity… it is an issue that should bother you and me, despite our religious affiliation. It is a question of ethics and morality… but in last few years this issue has been high jacked by religious fundamentalists. The Palestinian problem has been projected as a Muslim problem… as if no Christian lives in Palestine… as if a non-Muslim does not and should not have a locus standi on this issue. I, who has always believed in the teachings of Gandhi, feel disenfranchised- I feel somebody violates my right to support Palestinians in their struggle- just for being a non-Muslim.
It is very sad to see that a struggle that should have based itself on principles of justice, equality and truth… has deteriorated into a struggle emanating from hatred against the west and Jews… has got mutilated by a sense of ethnocentrism… a sense that assumes that American girls are of easy virtue just because they party and wear swim suits… and that assumes that Hindus are lowly creatures because they believe in Pantheism. I have heard many a times on the roads of Cairo, people voicing extreme hatred for Jews… and how all of them should be killed. It is not healthy. A wrong can't be undone by another wrong. An eye for an eye makes everybody blind. This is what Gandhi said… this is what the benevolence of Islam teaches.
The route to Jerusalem is a barren land… but the terrain is such that makes you exclaim. Road to Jerusalem is fenced on both the sides… the security measures are evident… on the road you start seeing signboards announcing the proximity of places like Ramallah, Jericho, Beit Sohour. For last two years, everyday I have heard names of these cities… mostly in the context of some Israeli attack or some demonstration. It was a strange feeling to be among it all.
Far away, I saw one of the most beautiful sights- the Golden dome of the Al Aqsa mosque complex. Jerusalem is recognized by it. One has to see it, to relish its beauty.
The bus dropped me at a place called Damascus Gate in East Jerusalem. It is one of the most important inlets to the Old City. Made in mid 1500s by the Ottomans… Damascus gate has witnessed the ravages of time, the tyranny of history… it stands as testimony to the vagaries of time.
I checked into a small place called New Palm Hostel… I was lucky to have arrived at this place… the place is small, outwardly shabby... but the atmosphere inside is friendly, warm and I met few very interesting characters over there.
East Jerusalem is almost totally Arabic and Muslim, with some small quarters of Christians. The chaotic markets make you wonder if you are in Israel or some crowded neighbourhood of Cairo or Damascus, though the similarity ends here… one more blink and you start seeing young conscripts with an automatic rifle in their hands, guarding the entire place… boys and girls, black and whites… they are a part of an experiment to create a society based on religion and religion only… without a dose of ethnicity, nationality and cultural similarity or lack of it. Pure religious identity. And on the face of it… it seems to be a successful experiment.
The owner of the place is from Hebron, an affable personality. The hostel was crowded by young Japanese girls, who seemed to be staying there for months…. There were few other families… Free internet, free tea and coffee and free dinner… the place was shoestring and yet very comfortable.
My next stop was going to be Bethlehem… the birth place of Jesus.
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