दोस्तों पिछले दिनों अपना एक लेख 'हम ही हैं हिंदू और मुसलमान' प्रकाशित किया था। यह उसी लेख का अंग्रेजी अनुवाद है। मेरे आग्रह पर प्रसिद्ध अंग्रेजी साहित्यकार अमिताव कुमार ने इसे अंग्रेजी में अनूदित किया था। आज खुर्शीद अनवर को गए 40 दिन हो गए। उसी की याद में...उसी को समर्पित यह लेख...इसमें उसका जिक्र भी है। मेरी जिंदगी की किताब के कुछ पन्ने हमेशा के लिए फट कर उधिया गए कमबख्त तेरे जाने से...
If he is my enemy, who is this friend?
If He Is My Enemy, Who Is This Friend?"
Ajay Brahmatmaj
Am I a Hindu?
Let’s take my own name as our example.
The history of the name “Ajay” is not ancient. It is a modern and secular name. There is more than a touch of the secular in my last name too . No one gets any indication of my caste from “Brahmatmaj.” This name was given by my father whose own name is Sukhdeo Narain. Traditionally, my name should have been Ajay Narain. But my father is certainly more modern and progressive when compared to his contemporaries. He had added a part of my mother's name “Brahma” to the name of all my four brothers. Our surname means “born from the soul of Brahma.” And thus, through this act of naming, all my brothers and I declare ourselves the sons of our mother.
It is clear from my name that I hail from a Hindu family. My background is Hindu. I don’t have any hesitation calling myself a Hindu or when others call me a Hindu. But, am I the same Hindu who is always against Muslims?
Let me confess that I don’t have any religious or spiritual ideals. My mother has always celebrated all the Hindu festivals. She has fasted regularly. But she never forced us to follow all the rites and rituals. Now, she has given up almost all the fasts she used to keep. Asked why, she responds, “What is the need for it any more? All my children are well settled and doing well."
I have lost any interest I once had in religious rituals and worship. Since my background is Hindu, I still go to temples along with my family members, and bow in front of gods and goddesses—but I don’t feel any faith or respectfulness towards these idols. Perhaps a person like me can be called an atheist. But even such a person has still got his place in the Hindu tradition and that is why, perhaps, I have neither been marked as an outcast nor as a hypocrite.
I came to Delhi from Bihar to study. After getting admission in Jawaharlal Nehru University, I was allotted room number 511 in Narmada Hostel. We were three in this room—Mithilesh Pathak, Khursheed Anwar, and myself. For some reason, Mithilesh could not last with us longer than fifteen days. Only the two of us, Khursheed and I, remained. Khursheed had come from Allahabad. I don’t think that he had any faith in Allah or that he was even a god-fearing person. But yes, sometimes he would remember his Ammi—and, catching hold of his ears, he would say “Tauba, tauba” a few times and then ask for forgiveness. One morning, I don’t know what happened to him, he said, "Ajay, yaar, you don’t believe in your gods and goddesses. And I too don't bow in the direction of Mecca, but what if we are wrong? If it turns out that gods and goddesses exist, or if one finds that Allah is there, what will happen to us? You will be judged after your death and even I will be answerable on the Day of Judgement."
After raising the question, Khursheed thought about it a little and then shook all such concerns away, saying, "Let Khuda be in his own place." He married a Hindu girl who also lived on the JNU campus like us. They now have a son named Samar.
Is Khursheed Anwar a Muslim?
My friendship with Khursheed has remained intact all these years. The only difference is that I live in Mumbai and he in Delhi. Sometimes he calls me, and I took keep in touch. Before meeting Khursheed, I knew two so-called Muslims. One was a peon in my father's office. A chequered lungi, a vest with sleeves, slippers, bald head, and a thick beard… He had come to us after his retirement from the army, and, as a result, he was very strict about following all rules and regulations. This was the first opportunity I had to see someone closely… After brushing his teeth with a daatun, he would never split it in the middle and clean his tongue. (The daatun is a thin stem taken from a neem or babool tree, and used in place of a tooth-brush.) He did not throw away the daatun either. We were surprised. We used to get rid of his daatun without telling him and earn his wrath. My mother had kept a separate cup for him. Tea was served to him only in that cup. This same arrangement was in place for all our Muslim guests. Separate glasses, separate cups and a little different behaviour.
Then there was Master Sayeed Miyan. Always clad in a white dhoti and a white shirt… I don’t know whether he is even alive or not. Masterji had a very good rapport with my father. He used to help my father in his office work. Since he was very close to us, we were always been invited for Eid. He had become a teacher, but his father had been a butcher. His younger brother was a tailor. The relationship between our families was this: every week his father would send us mutton and his brother had begun to stitch our clothes. On Eid, our entire family, except our mother, used to go to his house to eat. Sayeed Miyan used to send saviyan for my mother. Till our stay at Areraj, a small town in Bihar, Sayeed Miyan was an extended member of our family. He was always present, always ready to help. He was a religious man. He used to offer namaaz regularly and he also celebrated all the festivals. Once I joined him in a tazia procession. I had gone to a mosque with him on one occasion. Would he not have wondered why he was taking a Hindu to the mosque? Even the Maulavi of the mosque knew which family I was a member of but even he did not raise any objection.
I was on close terms with the family of Sayeed Miyan. Often, I would also go inside his house, where the women used to be in purdah. His wife, his mother, and his sisters, were never cloistered in my presence. It never appeared that they were struggling under any pressure to stay open to me. Any helplessness, or even hesitation, cannot remain hidden. It comes out in people’s behaviour and their words.
And, then my long stay in China… During that period, many Muslims became my friends. Some pure fundamentalists and some progressives who gave no importance to religion… There was one Rehman Sahib…from Karachi, Pakistan…. a great fan of cigarettes, wine and music. Lata Mangeshkar is his favourite singer. Once, he heard songs sung by a folk singer from Bihar, Ms. Sharada Sinha, and sent a letter for her with me. His father had migrated from India, but it was his body that had gone with him… His heart he had left in India… Rehman Sahib would sometimes draw on his blurred memories of a remembered village in India. He had those memories from his childhood—those and a few choice abuses in a Purabiya dialect. At the time of famous Tiananmen Square incident, I had taken three visiting writers from India for a ride in the city. It was 4th June. The city was almost under curfew. All transportation was shut down. It was the Pakistani Rehman Sahib who had come to our help, taking the visitors, Mrinal Pande, Vijay Tendulkar and U. R. Ananthmurthy to their hotel. Why did a Pakistani Muslim take such risk for three Indian writers (all so called Hindus)? This introduces a strange conundrum in my mind. Was Rehman only a Muslim?
Years have passed. My daughters are growing up. In the circle of friends that my elder daughter has, there are many Muslim boys. One of her closest friends is a boy called Ali. We all know him very well. My mother has also met him. No one—not my mother, my wife, nor myself—has paid much heed to the fact that Ali is a Muslim. Then… is he a real Muslim? … To be a Muslim means that you are an enemy of the Hindus… Then how is he my daughter's friend? Is he not a Muslim or is he also living under the same dilemma as me?
Hindus and Muslims. Are these two distinct identities or are they both only two sides of a coin? … I believe that we are Hindus or Muslims because our background and our families, but most of us are not such Hindus or Muslims that want to destroy the other. Even though we live among suspicions, and it is true that some forces want to use us against each other, like fodder in their cannon.
But they will not succeed, because Sayeed Miyan has been a friend of my father’s. My friend is Khursheed ANwar, who despite his busy schedule, get disturbed when he gets news of my sickness. And there is my daughter's friend Ali too. We have been walking in step with each other, together in independent era, an amalgam of different eras and generations. The time of this mistrust will pass, as life is long and without stop or end. Hatred is the name of a mere moment… It is an accident in time, an outbreak of negativism that can never last.
Ajay Brahmatmaj
Am I a Hindu?
Let’s take my own name as our example.
The history of the name “Ajay” is not ancient. It is a modern and secular name. There is more than a touch of the secular in my last name too . No one gets any indication of my caste from “Brahmatmaj.” This name was given by my father whose own name is Sukhdeo Narain. Traditionally, my name should have been Ajay Narain. But my father is certainly more modern and progressive when compared to his contemporaries. He had added a part of my mother's name “Brahma” to the name of all my four brothers. Our surname means “born from the soul of Brahma.” And thus, through this act of naming, all my brothers and I declare ourselves the sons of our mother.
It is clear from my name that I hail from a Hindu family. My background is Hindu. I don’t have any hesitation calling myself a Hindu or when others call me a Hindu. But, am I the same Hindu who is always against Muslims?
Let me confess that I don’t have any religious or spiritual ideals. My mother has always celebrated all the Hindu festivals. She has fasted regularly. But she never forced us to follow all the rites and rituals. Now, she has given up almost all the fasts she used to keep. Asked why, she responds, “What is the need for it any more? All my children are well settled and doing well."
I have lost any interest I once had in religious rituals and worship. Since my background is Hindu, I still go to temples along with my family members, and bow in front of gods and goddesses—but I don’t feel any faith or respectfulness towards these idols. Perhaps a person like me can be called an atheist. But even such a person has still got his place in the Hindu tradition and that is why, perhaps, I have neither been marked as an outcast nor as a hypocrite.
I came to Delhi from Bihar to study. After getting admission in Jawaharlal Nehru University, I was allotted room number 511 in Narmada Hostel. We were three in this room—Mithilesh Pathak, Khursheed Anwar, and myself. For some reason, Mithilesh could not last with us longer than fifteen days. Only the two of us, Khursheed and I, remained. Khursheed had come from Allahabad. I don’t think that he had any faith in Allah or that he was even a god-fearing person. But yes, sometimes he would remember his Ammi—and, catching hold of his ears, he would say “Tauba, tauba” a few times and then ask for forgiveness. One morning, I don’t know what happened to him, he said, "Ajay, yaar, you don’t believe in your gods and goddesses. And I too don't bow in the direction of Mecca, but what if we are wrong? If it turns out that gods and goddesses exist, or if one finds that Allah is there, what will happen to us? You will be judged after your death and even I will be answerable on the Day of Judgement."
After raising the question, Khursheed thought about it a little and then shook all such concerns away, saying, "Let Khuda be in his own place." He married a Hindu girl who also lived on the JNU campus like us. They now have a son named Samar.
Is Khursheed Anwar a Muslim?
My friendship with Khursheed has remained intact all these years. The only difference is that I live in Mumbai and he in Delhi. Sometimes he calls me, and I took keep in touch. Before meeting Khursheed, I knew two so-called Muslims. One was a peon in my father's office. A chequered lungi, a vest with sleeves, slippers, bald head, and a thick beard… He had come to us after his retirement from the army, and, as a result, he was very strict about following all rules and regulations. This was the first opportunity I had to see someone closely… After brushing his teeth with a daatun, he would never split it in the middle and clean his tongue. (The daatun is a thin stem taken from a neem or babool tree, and used in place of a tooth-brush.) He did not throw away the daatun either. We were surprised. We used to get rid of his daatun without telling him and earn his wrath. My mother had kept a separate cup for him. Tea was served to him only in that cup. This same arrangement was in place for all our Muslim guests. Separate glasses, separate cups and a little different behaviour.
Then there was Master Sayeed Miyan. Always clad in a white dhoti and a white shirt… I don’t know whether he is even alive or not. Masterji had a very good rapport with my father. He used to help my father in his office work. Since he was very close to us, we were always been invited for Eid. He had become a teacher, but his father had been a butcher. His younger brother was a tailor. The relationship between our families was this: every week his father would send us mutton and his brother had begun to stitch our clothes. On Eid, our entire family, except our mother, used to go to his house to eat. Sayeed Miyan used to send saviyan for my mother. Till our stay at Areraj, a small town in Bihar, Sayeed Miyan was an extended member of our family. He was always present, always ready to help. He was a religious man. He used to offer namaaz regularly and he also celebrated all the festivals. Once I joined him in a tazia procession. I had gone to a mosque with him on one occasion. Would he not have wondered why he was taking a Hindu to the mosque? Even the Maulavi of the mosque knew which family I was a member of but even he did not raise any objection.
I was on close terms with the family of Sayeed Miyan. Often, I would also go inside his house, where the women used to be in purdah. His wife, his mother, and his sisters, were never cloistered in my presence. It never appeared that they were struggling under any pressure to stay open to me. Any helplessness, or even hesitation, cannot remain hidden. It comes out in people’s behaviour and their words.
And, then my long stay in China… During that period, many Muslims became my friends. Some pure fundamentalists and some progressives who gave no importance to religion… There was one Rehman Sahib…from Karachi, Pakistan…. a great fan of cigarettes, wine and music. Lata Mangeshkar is his favourite singer. Once, he heard songs sung by a folk singer from Bihar, Ms. Sharada Sinha, and sent a letter for her with me. His father had migrated from India, but it was his body that had gone with him… His heart he had left in India… Rehman Sahib would sometimes draw on his blurred memories of a remembered village in India. He had those memories from his childhood—those and a few choice abuses in a Purabiya dialect. At the time of famous Tiananmen Square incident, I had taken three visiting writers from India for a ride in the city. It was 4th June. The city was almost under curfew. All transportation was shut down. It was the Pakistani Rehman Sahib who had come to our help, taking the visitors, Mrinal Pande, Vijay Tendulkar and U. R. Ananthmurthy to their hotel. Why did a Pakistani Muslim take such risk for three Indian writers (all so called Hindus)? This introduces a strange conundrum in my mind. Was Rehman only a Muslim?
Years have passed. My daughters are growing up. In the circle of friends that my elder daughter has, there are many Muslim boys. One of her closest friends is a boy called Ali. We all know him very well. My mother has also met him. No one—not my mother, my wife, nor myself—has paid much heed to the fact that Ali is a Muslim. Then… is he a real Muslim? … To be a Muslim means that you are an enemy of the Hindus… Then how is he my daughter's friend? Is he not a Muslim or is he also living under the same dilemma as me?
Hindus and Muslims. Are these two distinct identities or are they both only two sides of a coin? … I believe that we are Hindus or Muslims because our background and our families, but most of us are not such Hindus or Muslims that want to destroy the other. Even though we live among suspicions, and it is true that some forces want to use us against each other, like fodder in their cannon.
But they will not succeed, because Sayeed Miyan has been a friend of my father’s. My friend is Khursheed ANwar, who despite his busy schedule, get disturbed when he gets news of my sickness. And there is my daughter's friend Ali too. We have been walking in step with each other, together in independent era, an amalgam of different eras and generations. The time of this mistrust will pass, as life is long and without stop or end. Hatred is the name of a mere moment… It is an accident in time, an outbreak of negativism that can never last.
