The Walls within
Twenty years ago… a wall broke down… promising to bring humanity closer… promising to break down artificial barriers that had divided humanity for many decades, or perhaps centuries… promising to usher the world into unprecedented peace and brotherhood.
Twenty year… down the line… the promise remains unfulfilled… the world has further slipped into insanity… into mutual suspicion and hatred… the optimism had paled and pessimism reigns large.
Berlin wall… though important… was entirely symbolic… a higher and stronger wall still remains… within our hearts… within every heart… which doesn’t allow us to place unqualified trust, submission on to other fellow humans… we still find solace in being a race, a nation, a clan, a creed, a caste and a religion… and not in being a Human Being.
Twenty years ago… I had a number of walls in my heart… this blog is the story of how these walls cracked and withered away… how it brought me closer to those, whom I thought, were my enemy (or at least adversary)… how it brought me closer to myself… how it made me cherish and relish the fact that I am a human being… to whom God has bestowed the blessing of not being provincial… but, who, still behaves provincially… as he were no better than a pack of wolf…
My formative years… saw two most tumultuous incident of Indian modern history… the Mandal Commission agitation… in which the so called “Upper Caste Hindus” agitated against affirmative action is favour of the so called “Backward Caste Hindus”… and Ram Mandir agitation… in which right-leaning Hindus agitated in favour of constructing a temple in Ayodhya… in place of a defunct Mosque, which was constructed in medieval ages after demolishing a temple.
These two incidents… had big impact on me… as an Upper Caste Hindu… I was fashioned to believe that my identity was endangered… and the only way to preserve myself was to ghettoize and construct wall that separates me from my adversaries… namely the Backward Caste Hindus and Muslims… respectively… no one told me… not even my parents… that such walls often use the raw materials of hatred, suspicion and selfishness… to be constructed.
The walls kept growing bigger and stronger… during my Engineering College days… where caste used to play a huge role in deciding the election of General Secretary of the hostels… and the institute… these walls were very deceptive… they never appeared during personal interactions with a person from the adversarial group… they appeared only when the group identity took over… it made us think… that perhaps we are all right… as an individual and as a group…
That I was in Kanpur… a communally sensitive city in the heart of communally charged Northern Indian plains… had another effect. Every time my cycle-rickshaw left Kanpur Central station… winding through the roads of Muslim-dominated areas… famous for their riots that broke out for petty reasons- like a Hindu eve-teased a Muslim girl or a policeman thrashed a Muslim boy… I felt a strange feeling in my gut… what if I am caught in one of these riots… would I turn into a mangled piece of flesh… Can I call this Muslim dominated part of Kanpur my own country… why do THEY celebrate when Pakistan wins in a cricket match…? This wall was even more deceptive… it made me feel like a patriot, a proud Indian… it not only made me think that I am right… but also that only I am right. This wall grew with every bomb-blast… that ripped the body of my motherland…
Life it seems has its own way to even itself out… traveling was never a passion with me… it was just a way to spend long weekends… or meet some distant friend… or see some monuments… that common logic says… should be seen in one’s lifetime. However, later in my lonely hours of Jamnagar, I started traveling for refuge… the very first time when I ventured out alone… without a plan, out of my comfort zone…
These lonely travels took me to different places… to Somnath… where I discovered God… the discovery that changed me from an uncaring atheist to the believer… to Alang, where I discovered myself… and to Nagpur… where I discovered that I may be a born Hindu… but was a blessing of Sufi saint Tajuddin Baba… when on the night of 7th October 1975, a Sufi appeared before my father… in a small railway station called Bindaki Road in Fatehpur… where my father was eagerly awaiting for a much-delayed passenger train to Allahabad… where my mother was undergoing labour pains… the Sufi said, all by himself without a prompt… the spirit of Tajuddin Baba has told me that you have been blessed with a son… tell him to visit Tajuddin Baba’s Mazar.
I never looked back; thereafter… my travels broke down, slowly but surely, the walls within me…
I still remember the face of Rohidas Gaekwad… whom I met during the aimless wanderings in Konkan… in a place called Jaitapur… who gave me new ways to think… new horizons to explore… who transformed me as a person, forever… he was a Dalit… the most backward caste of Indian society… and yet he would always be etched in my heart for being my Guru. Today… I am no longer an Upper Caste Hindu… I am just a human being… I discovered the Rohidas (or Raidas, a learned Hindu saint from Dalit caste) during traveling… he helped me in demolishing a huge wall inside my heart.
My wanderings took me to Egypt, Syria and Jordan… where I met amazing people… where I started shedding doubts about Islam… about Muslims… where I learnt that I was wrong… Muslims are not preachers of hate… or intolerance… they are like me… or perhaps even better… they pray together… they eat together… they invite me for a iftaar… without even batting an eyelid… or questioning as to whether I am a Muslim or not… they helped me in breaking another huge wall inside my heart…
Today… when I am perturbed by huge walls in the hearts of people all around… I wish they travel… to meet people beyond their comfort zones… to feel that a world palpates beyond their recognized patterns… which defies the walls… the stereotypes… which awaits them to make them realize that they first and foremost… are humans…
Twenty year… down the line… the promise remains unfulfilled… the world has further slipped into insanity… into mutual suspicion and hatred… the optimism had paled and pessimism reigns large.
Berlin wall… though important… was entirely symbolic… a higher and stronger wall still remains… within our hearts… within every heart… which doesn’t allow us to place unqualified trust, submission on to other fellow humans… we still find solace in being a race, a nation, a clan, a creed, a caste and a religion… and not in being a Human Being.
Twenty years ago… I had a number of walls in my heart… this blog is the story of how these walls cracked and withered away… how it brought me closer to those, whom I thought, were my enemy (or at least adversary)… how it brought me closer to myself… how it made me cherish and relish the fact that I am a human being… to whom God has bestowed the blessing of not being provincial… but, who, still behaves provincially… as he were no better than a pack of wolf…
My formative years… saw two most tumultuous incident of Indian modern history… the Mandal Commission agitation… in which the so called “Upper Caste Hindus” agitated against affirmative action is favour of the so called “Backward Caste Hindus”… and Ram Mandir agitation… in which right-leaning Hindus agitated in favour of constructing a temple in Ayodhya… in place of a defunct Mosque, which was constructed in medieval ages after demolishing a temple.
These two incidents… had big impact on me… as an Upper Caste Hindu… I was fashioned to believe that my identity was endangered… and the only way to preserve myself was to ghettoize and construct wall that separates me from my adversaries… namely the Backward Caste Hindus and Muslims… respectively… no one told me… not even my parents… that such walls often use the raw materials of hatred, suspicion and selfishness… to be constructed.
The walls kept growing bigger and stronger… during my Engineering College days… where caste used to play a huge role in deciding the election of General Secretary of the hostels… and the institute… these walls were very deceptive… they never appeared during personal interactions with a person from the adversarial group… they appeared only when the group identity took over… it made us think… that perhaps we are all right… as an individual and as a group…
That I was in Kanpur… a communally sensitive city in the heart of communally charged Northern Indian plains… had another effect. Every time my cycle-rickshaw left Kanpur Central station… winding through the roads of Muslim-dominated areas… famous for their riots that broke out for petty reasons- like a Hindu eve-teased a Muslim girl or a policeman thrashed a Muslim boy… I felt a strange feeling in my gut… what if I am caught in one of these riots… would I turn into a mangled piece of flesh… Can I call this Muslim dominated part of Kanpur my own country… why do THEY celebrate when Pakistan wins in a cricket match…? This wall was even more deceptive… it made me feel like a patriot, a proud Indian… it not only made me think that I am right… but also that only I am right. This wall grew with every bomb-blast… that ripped the body of my motherland…
Life it seems has its own way to even itself out… traveling was never a passion with me… it was just a way to spend long weekends… or meet some distant friend… or see some monuments… that common logic says… should be seen in one’s lifetime. However, later in my lonely hours of Jamnagar, I started traveling for refuge… the very first time when I ventured out alone… without a plan, out of my comfort zone…
These lonely travels took me to different places… to Somnath… where I discovered God… the discovery that changed me from an uncaring atheist to the believer… to Alang, where I discovered myself… and to Nagpur… where I discovered that I may be a born Hindu… but was a blessing of Sufi saint Tajuddin Baba… when on the night of 7th October 1975, a Sufi appeared before my father… in a small railway station called Bindaki Road in Fatehpur… where my father was eagerly awaiting for a much-delayed passenger train to Allahabad… where my mother was undergoing labour pains… the Sufi said, all by himself without a prompt… the spirit of Tajuddin Baba has told me that you have been blessed with a son… tell him to visit Tajuddin Baba’s Mazar.
I never looked back; thereafter… my travels broke down, slowly but surely, the walls within me…
I still remember the face of Rohidas Gaekwad… whom I met during the aimless wanderings in Konkan… in a place called Jaitapur… who gave me new ways to think… new horizons to explore… who transformed me as a person, forever… he was a Dalit… the most backward caste of Indian society… and yet he would always be etched in my heart for being my Guru. Today… I am no longer an Upper Caste Hindu… I am just a human being… I discovered the Rohidas (or Raidas, a learned Hindu saint from Dalit caste) during traveling… he helped me in demolishing a huge wall inside my heart.
My wanderings took me to Egypt, Syria and Jordan… where I met amazing people… where I started shedding doubts about Islam… about Muslims… where I learnt that I was wrong… Muslims are not preachers of hate… or intolerance… they are like me… or perhaps even better… they pray together… they eat together… they invite me for a iftaar… without even batting an eyelid… or questioning as to whether I am a Muslim or not… they helped me in breaking another huge wall inside my heart…
Today… when I am perturbed by huge walls in the hearts of people all around… I wish they travel… to meet people beyond their comfort zones… to feel that a world palpates beyond their recognized patterns… which defies the walls… the stereotypes… which awaits them to make them realize that they first and foremost… are humans…
2 comments:
It was really inspiring to read that you have broken so many walls within yourself ....
Here's wishing to you that you enjoy this liberated mental state forever untouched by the vagaries of life.
It is indeed a pleasure to follow your blog.
Keep Writing!
:-)
Thanks!!! Coming from you... it is indeed a huge compliment
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