Onika Maheshwari 

I was deputed to cover the Red Fort blast, a day after it had killed 15 persons and send the country is a state of shock. The revelations that unsuspecting professionals like doctors were behind the blast had further accentuated the impact of the terror blast in the minds of common people.

As soon as I reached Chandni Chowk, I could sense the pall of groom and a disturbing silence in the area.

I live in the Haryana part of the National Capital Region and hence am not very familiar with the walled city of Delhi. As such, following the blasts, there were curbs everywhere in and around the Red Fort, making it difficult for me to navigate from the Chandni Chowk metro station.

Honestly, I too was overwhelmed with fear and panic while finding a way to reach the closest to the barricaded venue of the blast. I could see police and security force vehicles swamping the place. Entries to the roads were blocked, and some closed, and there was no sound anywhere except the thumping of the on-duty sepoys.

I had never been to this area, which is predominantly inhabited by Muslims. Given the involvement of Muslim professionals in the blast, I also had my fears of traversing the unknown territory.

Police around the Venue of the Red Fort Blast

I was afraid not only because of the explosion, but also because of how people would see me, a non-Muslim and an outsider. With every step, I felt a sense of alienation, and my heart was pounding with fear of the unknown.

I am sure that if anyone looked into my eyes at that moment, she could sense my feelings.

Suddenly, a woman approached me. She looked unruffled; her eyes reflected calm. She looked as someone who had cracked all the secrets of the world. Looking at me, she smiled, as if she realised my inner feelings and knew I was feeling uneasy and nervous.

She asked me where I was going, and then, without hesitation, she said, "Come with me, I'll take you to the road you need to go."

I felt my nervousness ease a little. She walked with me through the deserted, narrow streets where people were divided in smaller groups in front of the closed shops and talking – perhaps about the blast.

Police had just declared the market would remain closed for the day for investigation.

Shopkeepers had collected their belongings to be taken back and were preparing to leave. People were looking at us – two women walking in this disturbance. Their gaze held questions for both of us.

People stared at us, making me uncomfortable. I repeatedly heard voices say, "Muslims are behind the blasts." These words made me somewhat panic, but the woman continued to lead me, and she was undeterred.

Sensing my disquiet, she said, "I run a shoe shop in Chandni Chowk with my son. Don't take these things to heart. The media and society sometimes spread hatred in the name of religion, but you know, we're all human beings." There was a truth in her voice that touched my heart. Her words made me understand that these bigoted words mean nothing. We all live on the same earth, with the same humanity, no matter our identities or religions.

When I asked her name, she laughed and replied, "Tahira." And in that one name, I realised that the walls of religion, caste, and identity are merely the creation of society. In reality, what connects us is our humanity.

That day, as I walked with Tahira, I realised that instead of fearing each other, we should understand each other.

Tahira showed me a path that was not just physical but also mental—a path of understanding, love, and humanity.

The day will always remain a positive memory in my mind. Tahira made me realise that we are all human—unity, love, and peace are our greatest strengths.

This woman, who toiled day and night in her small shoe shop, taught me that we all have the same heart, that no matter what religion we belong to, we all have one truth within us—humanity.

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Even today, when I remember that day, only one thought comes to my mind – “We Hindus and Muslims, we are all one.”

Readers are welcome to share their experiences of communal harmony or interreligious friendship on [email protected]  for publication - Editor