CHAPTER 10- RIOT IS WRONG

It was the day of Ganesh immersion, the city was shut down and all the roads were blocked. There were cops all over the place and all of us were instructed not to go on to the roads without informing our folks. It was a day all my mates from the neighborhood looked forward as the procession happened only once every year and for us, Muslim kids it was a holiday when we were free as we did not have to go for prayers nor visit our relatives or greet them. Some of our neighbors were part of the Scout’s troop and gave voluntary duty on the roads and helped the police with the security. The rest of us gathered on the terrace of the tallest building in our locality and watched the procession go by. We used to enjoy the sights and the sounds of the procession especially Motu, who never took his eyes of the road and kept enjoying every moment with his binoculars. He used to call us whenever he saw something special like this year he had spotted a Ganesh idol made out of pure gold and one that looked like Shankar Bhagwan. I would call Chottu to find out what time the Khairtabad Ganesh idol, the tallest one from the city would pass from Abids and we would wait eagerly for it.
Timmy wanted to go on to road for a while and have some kulfi and dance for a bit so we asked the watchman of our apartment to accompany us. We took permission from our parents and headed to the roads excited and pleased. Blaring loud music, people dancing like crazy, throwing Prasad and water at the public watching them was what we enjoyed the most. Once Billu and Timmy had eaten their share of kulfi,bhel puri, dahi papdi and drank three glasses of lassi each, we headed back to our places and decided to gather on the terrace again after lunch. I couldn’t imagine anyone could still be hungry after hogging on so much street food but knowing Billu’s appetite I knew he was still hungry, he always was.
Around 3.30 pm all of us gathered on the terrace again and were playing cricket when Motu spotted a huge commotion and we heard sounds of firing and people running all over the place. In a few minutes, everyone from the neighborhood was on the terrace wondering what was going on. Police sirens and ambulances were spotted everywhere. Motu was glued to his Binoculars and had spotted a major stampede happening near Central Publishers Stationary. My mom along with the other ladies from the apartment looked really worried and some of them were weeping. Salman’s dad handed him his cell phone and asked our mates to call their parents and inform that they were safe and with him. We did not understand what was happening. The procession happened everywhere but nothing like this had ever happened before. Timmy’s dad then arrived and said that he had just watched the news and there had been a scuffle between Hindus and the Muslims near a mosque in Begum Bazaar and this minor incident had escalated to the other parts of the city too. The old city was on a lock down and the police were on high alert. Just then we saw flames and Yam General Store near my school was burning. The smoke from its flames rose high above the city and it looked like the whole city was covered by a sky of smoke. Someone mentioned that the crowd was turning unruly and had done this mischief as the shop was owned by a Muslim. I couldn’t imagine who would want to burn down the store of the poor Mushtaq uncle, a pious and religious man who used to give us candies for free and joked that if he could he would never take any money from any of us but he had too to earn his livelihood. He was a Muslim but he did not differentiate or bother about who came to his shop. He treated all of us equally. I knew Dhawal would be really sad that his favorite store had been burned down and had been reduced to ashes. Where would he buy WWF trump cards now, where would we go when school was over and the canteen was closed? There were thousands of Hindu kids in school like him who would be heart broken. My thoughts were broken by the sounds of fire brigades arriving and firemen trying their best to stop the fire from escalating. My dad asked all the women to take the children home so that we were not exposed to anymore of these gory scenes. We wanted to stay but were forced to go home. Eventually we decided to stay together and watch the news in Salman’s house. The news reporter said that there were incidents and riots all over the city and now a temple had been destroyed by some Muslim rioters near Charminar and the police were having a hard time controlling the anti social elements and the Rapid Action Force and the Military had been pressed into action. I wondered who these haters were. I wondered if this would change things forever. A lot of my friends were Hindus and my dad had spent all his life doing business with the Marwadis in Begum Bazaar. I did not know any Hindus who hated me or my family and I knew for sure that neither I nor any of the Muslims I knew hated the Hindus and my belief was reinforced when Tarun’s mom called my place to enquire if all of us were alright and when I saw the sights on the news of a Muslim, carrying a bleeding Hindu Priest on his shoulders out of a Temple and putting him in an ambulance and the fireman trying to douse the fire at Yam General Store had a red Tilak on his forehead. Just then mom said something that cleared our thoughts, No religion in the world preaches fighting and violence and in any situation a riot is always wrong. The people who indulged in these riots did not have a religion and they only did all this to achieve their own selfish motives at the expense of the poor Indian public and played with the sentiments of thousands of people. She also said one more thing that none of us will ever forget and is my mantra in life, “WE ARE INDIANS, BEFORE WE ARE ANYTHING ELSE.”