This appeared in Sunday Times....
Ready to move
to Pakistan….?
What an idiotic man. And what a foolish
comment! Giriraj Singh , some would say, should be forgiven for advising all
those Indians who have issues with Narendra Modi, to pack up their bags and
move to Pakistan! The implication is dangerous even if the suggestion is
absurd. I thought about Giriraj Singh’s provocative comment , while listening
to the most divine music. My eyes were
shut, my mind open, and all my senses were concentrated on just one thing – the
rousing words of a troupe of Quwwals from Hyderabad singing
their hearts out for a very special lady whose 80th birthday
celebrations I was attending. This was at a particularly charming ‘Manzil’ in a
posh area of Mumbai. There used to be
many more ‘manzils’ in the locality twenty years ago. Most were torn down to be
replaced by impersonal, ugly high rises (surely, Mumbai has some of the worst ,
so-called ‘modern’ architecture in India?). This particular ‘manzil’ was also crumbling,
but remains rather grand regardless. Our
gracious host and his begum have always
been known for their generous hospitality at the magical soirees they organize
from time to time. Their neighbours in the ‘manzil’ are a mixed bunch – Hindus,
Parsees and Muslims. They are obviously accustomed to these splendid ‘mehfils’
which attract all sorts of music lovers,
including foreign visitors who crave to be included in these elegant
gatherings. This evening as no different from earlier evenings – the kebabs and
biryani were as mouth watering, and the fragrance of mogra garlands decorating
the old, wooden doors to the grand salon, made the air appropriately heady. At
one point, the troupe of impeccably
attired Quwwals, carried away by the
mood of the evening, were singing so lustily, I was sure their voices
had reached heaven and beyond. And that was when Giriraj’s ugly words resonated
inside my head. And Parveen Togadia’s equally hateful anti-Muslim comments,
sent a small chill down my spine. Here we were, around thirty music lovers,
appreciating every moment of this fine evening in all its fullness.Were we
perhaps, attending one of the last such concerts? Wasn’t it entirely possible
that a few months, maybe even weeks, down the line, there could be people out there ‘objecting’ to our innocent
pleasure, and possibly disrupting the evening forcing the musicians to stop performing. I could so easily envisage a grim future scenario
featuring Togadia clones issuing ultimatums
and threats to all of us at the mellifluous ‘mehfil’… ordering us to
either disband and go home… or pack our bags and head to Pakistan!
If such a repulsive scenario seems
implausible as of now, think again. Refer to Togadia’s bully tactics and
intimidation as he urged followers to chase out a Muslim house owner in
Bhavnagar by spitting on him, and scaring his family before forcibly taking
over his home. So, I don’t think my
fears about what lies ahead are in the least exaggerated. When I say I may have
attended one of the last concerts at my friend’s home – it is a distinct possibility.And to
think, here was a place that welcomed people bound together by nothing more
than their love for music, food, movies,conversation. During these mellow
evenings, nobody bothered or cared about
the origin of that divine music. Nobody asked for the religious identity of
those throats. Did those voices come bearing the tag of a specific religion? I
realised with a shock I was already using the past tense! As if I was writing
a requiem for an era . As if I was gearing up to deal with
something terrible… and inescapable !
I thought of the time I spent with other,
equally wonderful friends and musicians at their sprawling bungalow in Karachi
a couple of years ago. It was 3 a.m. on a cold and crisp winter night as ‘authentic’
Sufi singers (this was the hostess’ description), were just about warming up.
Piping hot, over sweet tea was welcomed by guests shivering on the lawns,
standing close to the sigrees dotting the garden. I was the only ‘outsider’,
the only Indian, the sole Hindu present. And yet (this is a very important ‘and
yet’). There wasn’t a single moment of ‘otherness’
as we relaxed on soft bolsters once the concert got underway, and surrendered
to the music. Later, at dawn, over hot, sticky jalebis and more tea, we chatted
and chatted and chatted till the sun came up and reminded us that extending the
night any further would have been highly inconsiderate. We could have been in
Mumbai… Delhi… Lahore… anywhere in the world. This is how it can be… should be.
Standing in the longest queue I have ever
been in at the polling station, I looked at the eager faces of young voters
from my neighbourhood. Did they really give a damn about Hindu-Muslim hate politics? I am willing to bet they really didn’t.
For the sake of this open minded generation, India has to move on… and away
from the Togadia brand of bullying and
intimidation. India must reject and demonstrate its contempt for the Giriraj
Singhs who point unbiased citizens to Pakistan, as if damning them to
purgatory. Hatred and prejudice can only corrode our country – any country. So,
yes, I am willing to go to Pakistan, if
that’s what it takes to stand up for what is right and just. It might surprise
Giriraj to discover how many Indians are ready to join me!
*****************