A COUPLE of weeks back a close friend from Mumbai popped down to Delhi for a work trip. Right off the bat I noticed she wasn’t sporting her pristine white Hijab; she donned it some years back as an experiment, felt comfy wearing it. It was here to stay. Or so we thought.
Sadly, this pristine white piece of cloth hampers her pace of work, she explained.
This qualified dentist who now works in the social sector, is fiercely dedicated to her NGO’s mission. But it turns out that the folks she interacts with during field trips are less receptive when she dons the Hijab. During more generic activities such as (surprise, surprise) watching a play at Prithvi Theatre, it arouses odd – sometimes devious stares – from supposedly evolved theatre-goers.
She now uses discretion when wearing it.
So whilst the Burka is being banned in Europe, here in India our girl conforms (for psychological reasons), so as to get the job done. A feisty American woman @jbacyrus tweeted: ‘What’s up with French people and their burqa obsession? Will they require boob displays next? http://bit.ly/cQ5Efb’
Now S, who has been living for donkey’s years with her grandparents in an old building in a Mumbai suburb, has a paan-spewing tenant for a neighbour who also happens to be Muslim. During a society meeting, some members wanted to disallow Muslims as tenants and this seems to have been triggered by the tenant’s paan-spewing shenanigans. She pointed out coolly that she is Muslim too, but not a paan-spewing one, and that this act is related to personal preference, habit, not religion. During my house-hunting days in Mumbai a broker once told me in hushed tones that the landlord would prefer if I did not keep a Muslim roomie. Sigh.
S observed, “So, even if you want out of the ghetto, no one gives you a chance and you are forced to return and feel humiliation at the hands of the very same ghetto.”
“Okay, so you will get turned down by six people but what about the twelfth house. You must persist,” I suggested. “No, the twelfth person will also turn you down,” she said with conviction.
I felt a tinge of sadness because we grew up knowing Muslims, very closely. Our neighbour in Muscat was a loud, affectionate, garrulous, bindaas dishdasha-clad Omani chap named Khalid, whose daughter was tutored by my mother and whose wives (I think there were two) babysat us when the folks had chores to attend to. We attended Zakia’s (mum’s student) wedding, ushered in by wailing women.
And then, when I was six, mom would leave my sis and I, with this homely woman, whose kids Aftab and Amar became staunch playmates. Sadly, Amar is no more. We looking forward to the Ramzan meal with the family after the sun set every evening. To date Mrs Jameel’s mutton gravy makes my mouth water.
And back to the present.
On a more positive note, a common male Muslim friend (of S and I) took the initiative and organised a big family holiday at a valley resort located many miles from Mumbai. The quiet little resort did not know what hit it when a bus full of bearded men and burqa-clad ladies arrived at the venue. My friend, who is in his late 20s, encouraged the ladies to take a dip in the pool (clothed from head to toe), a first for many women in the family.
He experienced “sheer delight” watching them enjoy themselves. “I had to cajole them into trying it. Someone said: this is so funny, water is going in everywhere! I had to hold their hand and slowly introduce them to the waters, something they have resisted for so long,” he says. According to him, the men and women in his family are so brilliantly house-trained that the housekeeping staff must wonder if anyone actually stayed in their rooms!
Coming back to my conversation with S I asked her very earnestly,” Why are people scared of Muslims?” She posed the very same question to me, and we pondered together. A couple of days later, I posed this question to another friend, a non-Muslim who was engaged to a Muslim boy for many years. This was her answer,” The sight of so many people praying in unison makes people sub-consciously envious of the community. It’s the numbers that instill the fear.”
”Okay, so people are scared but perhaps the younger generation should try and change perceptions,” I suggested to S. “I don’t think that’s the solution; people should just mix more, not keep a distance. Talk more, mingle more, have regular experiences,” she said, earnestly…
written with alot of passion