A Muslim’s life as an Indian citizen.

All my blogs have been about my personal life experiences and this is no different.

As India is struggling to retain its true essence of Diversity and Communal Harmony, its effects can be felt in the daily life of Muslim citizens. No, I am not going to discuss anything about CAA and NRC or its pros and cons, or how is it going to affect and not affect Muslim citizens.

I will just take you into what it feels like to be a Muslim in India.

I have been raised as an Indian first and then a Muslim. Its always a pride to call myself an Indian. How awed I have been each time I witness varied culture and tradition of India and thank Allah, because it’s a blessing to be born as an Indian.

The first question on my citizenship was raised at the innocent age of six when I was sent to a convent school. My fellow classmates used to ask me, “You are a Muslim! Are you a Pakistani?” at such a naïve age too it sounded so wrong that I could feel a thousand swords slicing my heart. I was forever taught to take pride in being an Indian and then they question my very own existence! And that was just the beginning. Now I am twenty-seven years old and each new day would bring the same old question concealed with a different set of words. Then I end up asking myself, “Why me and why not the others have to face this?”

The people who hired me asked me to stop wearing my hijab. I countered them with a question, “Would you demand the same if a Sardar joins your organization? Would you ask him to stop wearing his turban? No! then why only me?”

I learned to ignore all of it and focused on how to live a happy life. One day a lady said something and the wall of austerity that I had built around myself comes crumbling down. Being a Mumbaikar local train is the most crucial part of my life to the extent that it very much justifies the frequently used word ‘life-line of Mumbai’. Every passenger would have a set of interesting stories to share and even I have a couple of them. One of them happened a few days back. It was a usual day and I took the 5:12 pm train while returning from office. A reasonably crowded train. I was standing right behind the first row of seats. Two little girls were standing in front of me. A woman deliberately pushed me and came forward. I said, “Please don’t push. There are little kids standing in front of me.” The woman replied, “What if I fell down?”. I tried being quiet and end it there. She provoked me to reprimand and then her words that followed etched in my heart and mind forever. “Gandhiji was very wrong to let Muslims stay here. He shouldn’t have agreed to it.” I wasn’t prepared for this! For one moment I couldn’t believe that she said it for real. The next moment my mind went blank. It felt like my tongue had a paralytic attack. That was the moment when her destination arrived and she left the train. I had no time to answer her! That one incident made me cry for nights.

My friends’ circle is full of non-Muslims and when I speak about these issues with them, they just choose to be ignorant. It just doesn’t make any difference to them because it’s not affecting their lives. The pain and misery can only be felt by those who are going through it. Whenever I vocalize my ache it becomes a pain in the ass for them. How do I express my plight?

Just yesterday I was going to Kurla. I took a fast local from Mulund and it was jam-packed. I couldn’t even move an arm. A frenzied crowd got into the train along with me. A few Muslim women and many others entered together. Other women who were on the train stood blocking our way inside to get down at the next station. One of them said, “Yeh Musalman log hi rasta nahi de rahe hai. (These Muslim women are only not giving us way.)” I looked around to see how many Muslim women were there in that crowd and I only saw three including me. I felt so offended and replied, “Aap Hindu-Muslim kya kar rahe ho? (Why are you speaking about religion?)”. Why do people wear lenses called religion while dealing with people? I feel so targeted! It feels like we can’t even breathe without being tagged by our religion. I sense becoming a victim of religious discrimination with each step I take.

I cry myself to sleep each night. Every morning I start my day with a prayer and a silent tear rolling down my cheek that today nothing of that sort should happen to me. I have become so vulnerable these days and I just don’t want my parents and siblings to witness that. I try wiping my tears before someone notices and put up my strong face in front of them. Each day I am fighting a new battle.

When I told one of my friends that I want to go away from all this, I want to go abroad and work, he said, “Do you think it’s not happening in other countries? Do you think Muslims are treated very well abroad? The condition is much worse there.” I replied, “I am well aware of what’s happening in other countries. And I know it’s going to happen with me too when I go. But there is one big difference there. This is my own nation and people treating me like this which wrenches my heart apart. Foreign land and people might treat me much worse than people here but that wouldn’t affect me so much because that’s not my nation and my people.”

This is not the nation I envisioned! This is not a nation where I would want to raise my children.

During the partition of India and Pakistan Mohammad Ali Jinnah had said that Muslims would have to prove their loyalty towards India time and again. And people of India have proved his predictions right time and again.