Saquib Salim

More than a century ago, Urdu poet, Allama Muhammad Iqbal wrote;

Mazhab nahi sikhata aapas main bair rakhna

Hindi hain hum, vatan hai Hindostan hamara

(Religious faith doesn’t teach hatred

We are Indians, India is our homeland)

What I am going to write about my experience of this Ramadan so far is nothing but a ratification of this couplet. When social media is replete with narratives of Hindu-Muslim hatred and fanatic elements on both the sides want us to believe in a cleavage between the two largest communities residing in the country, I assume that it is my moral, social and responsibility to share my own experience.

I,along with my wife, live in South West Delhi in a locality inhabited by very few Muslims. We buy our groceries from a shop owned by a Brahmin from East U.P, who is also a proud BJP supporter (in case this fact matters to a few). On the first of Ramazan, after moon sighting was declared, I went to his shop quite late asking for milk. Like many Muslims, I also prefer having some milk product as Sehri (pre-dawn meal before fast). The shopkeeper told me that the milk was exhausted and all the shops in our locality were already closed. He was also calling it a day and was in the process of locking his shop.

The man asked me if Ramazan had started. On knowing that I needed milk for Sehri, he gave me four packets (2 litres) of milk which was for his own consumption. The man offered me milk meant for his two children and his wife, who was there, also approved of the act. It was difficult for me to make him understand that I can have something else in sehri. Though, he agreed to take milk home but apologised several times for my inconvenience and promised that during Ramazan he would keep extra milk for me no matter how late I come. He has kept his promise.

If this was not enough, the man asked us, my wife and I, how we were managing our iftar (breaking the fast) and was adamant that we should accept an arrangement where pakoras, halwa, fruit chat etc. for us would be cooked at his home. It was another strenuous exercise to make him understand that we can cook ourselves. Displaying his unabridged emotions he told us, swearing upon gods that at his native village Hindus and Muslims shared iftar and sehri.

He told us that it was taken cares that during Ramazan Muslims get a preference in getting milk from the cows they owned. Unable to hide nostalgia he mentioned names of a few people with whom he would enjoy Ramadan food. In the end he blamed present politics for fanning hatred among people and hoped that sanity prevailed.

On another occasion, I was buying fruits for iftar which billed 120 Rupees. After I paid the bill, the fruit vendor asked me if I was buying it for my ‘roza’ and on knowing that I actually was he was visibly sorry and returned me 20 Rupees. He said that he cannot make more profit from rozdars (fasting people). It took me quite an effort to make him understand that he should not return me money. The vendor in question was again a Hindu boy.

Why am I writing all this? Because when I see news of people fighting in the name of religion my heart bleeds. I wonder what kind of monsters are trying to divide us into narrow religious camps. Religions are to spread love and those trading hate in the name of religions are enemies of humanity and India. As

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Sahir Ludhvanvi writes;

Ye diin ke taajir, ye vatan bechne vaale

Insan ki laasho ke kafan bechne vaale

Ye mehlo me.n baithe hue kaafir, ye lutere

Kaanto ke ye majnuu hai.n, chaman bechne vaale

(These merchants of religion, they sell this nation

They sell shroud of human corpse

These impious robbers are residing in palaces

They love thorns while selling the garden)             

(The names of the shopkeepers have been withheld for their privacy and safety)