I was born in an active, communally conflicted region, a city highly influenced by central politics. In this contemporary world, my city is influencing central politics itself. The name of the city is Meerut, a small city in the state of Uttar Pradesh that has the first movement of resistance in history on its hands through Mangal Pandey from the time of the first revolution against the Britishers.
I always thought I was lucky to be born in a city, which is the origin of our freedom from colonisers.
Whenever I heard stories about the time of the revolution, it was all so mesmerising for me, and imagining the resistance my ancestors must have encountered. My interest in these stories sparked more when I heard the stories of love and hope during severe communal hate, especially in 80s and 90s times of emergency and curfews.
My parents would tell me how Hindus and Muslims living together saved each other by sharing food and resources, how some people who had milk shared their milk with the people and who had rice and pulses did the same for the other community. The barter system was again practised in the time of hate, but this time, it was love and protection through food and resources.
This is what I grew up with, and all I knew of hate were people seeking refuge in each other’s food and driving hope from humanity. Those stories were of hope, and I was raised believing that ordinary people, like my own family and neighbourhood, don’t want this hate and violence. Still, little did I know the older I grew, the deeper the hate would get.
People will close their eyes and watch people of marginalised and minority communities burn, and one by one, they will turn their back to the marginalised communities. They will see us lynched based on our religious and caste identities, celebrate propaganda and spread false information in the name of God.
Since the 2014 elections, which succeeded after the considerable loss and displacement of 80,000 marginalised and deprived Muslims in 2013 in the Muzaffarnagar riots, and from that day, my hope has been continuously shaking, and I can feel the pain in my gut.
Thus, I decided to pause my life till this election of 2024. My family and I made most of our decisions according to the current political scenario, as the right wing wouldn’t allow a queer Muslim minority to access the same opportunities as others. This directly impacted my family. It led them to choose a locality which was full of people from my community but significantly devoid of opportunities and resources, for my higher education.
My university was chosen according to the sense of safety my parents felt at that time. I could have had access to the best colleges in Delhi if my parents weren’t a minority, but yes, the 2013 election changed a lot for us; even his business changed; the right-wing wave of hate hit a lot of minorities’ businesses, and my father wasn’t the only one to suffer.
Islamophobia became a daily routine for my family. Yes, we always lived in fear as they had the sense that they were more marginalised within their community as well because they had two Muslim daughters who, unfortunately for them, are queer. Still, their queerness wasn’t much of a problem, but the oppression which comes along with it, the honour of the religion their daughters have in their vulvas, how my father knew Muslim vulva holders are fetishised in this time, how our bodies are just a symbol of victory for the other majority. He had to do double labour to protect his women because that’s what patriarchy does to a man with three vulva holders in the house.
My family knew they needed to keep us safe and close, and they did what was the most convenient thing for them; they kept us close to them; both of our lives and decisions were made according to the political scenario, decisions like education, health care, mobility, job opportunities, etc.
Islamophobia has always played an important role in our lives, my father was rejected from multiple work spaces and opportunities because of his name so like every jugadu (resourceful/resilient/efficient/sustainable hacker) Indian he came up with the most secular abbreviations which were accepting enough for the other businesses.
He added a little extra Bharti to his name, because yes I am an Indian muslim and my family and I are put into multiple positions, personal or professional, where we have to prove that we are true Indians. Not because we have done something wrong because we were born in a community which was chosen for us. That was our only fault.
My family’s random birth was our only fault. A fault that is not ours but can lead to a tragic end anytime soon.
When I say I paused my life it is in the sense I live in nostalgia, in the what ifs. I dream of the genocide of my family and friends, and then I wake up crying with a fear of losing them all. I have postponed my engagement because I don’t want to be married in an environment where I could have everything and lose it in a second because some unemployed, uneducated toxic masculine religious goons (Dharam ka Yodha) warrior of religion decided to rape me and occupy my land.
This right-wing ideology has already occupied my dreams, hopes and plans for the future.
Even if nothing happens after tomorrow, I live in constant fear, and all of this is so sad that I have resistance inside me, thriving, storming out to claim what is mine, but I am scared to resist because what if this will take everything I have right now?
We all live in nostalgia, and I don’t have the privilege to stop thinking that I don’t know which meal will be my last peaceful meal with my family or what memory is the last one.
I await my end, not through a natural cause but a man-made disaster. Where some opportunist extremist men decide they want to occupy my land, life, body and hopes. But even if they succeed, they can’t occupy my heart, which is full of resistance and wisdom. My heart is actively practising radical kindness even in these times.
I pray for everyone’s safety, trying to find ways to educate people to stop this and act with kindness. I preach love and always will because I know that hate will only bring more hate, but love and radical acceptance will flourish in the lands and hearts of every humankind.
Yes, I am scared to death for the people I love and the uncertainty I live in, but don’t take my fear for weakness. It is a sign that I feel things and am alive; till I am alive, I will resist through love and kindness. No matter how much you want us to hate each other, I will preach love and kindness for all. Even if I am called delusional, I will keep my delusional love alive to save what’s still untouched by your hate.
Here I am sharing my vulnerability with all of you so that you understand what is the grief of constantly living in fear and praying that I hope tomorrow is not the end of my world or anyone else’s as well.