The cross I bear

The first incidences of violence against Christians in India broke out in parts of Karnataka.

The first incidences of violence against Christians in India broke out in parts of Karnataka. They started in August and have, over two months, spread across the state and spilled over to Orissa, affecting thousands across the country. I am one of the victims.

I am a Hindu girl married to a Catholic, and, I must admit, I consider myself quite an example of marital bliss. Every time my friends enquire about my 8220;equation8221; with in-laws, I have nothing but good to say. I am as much the apple of their eye as their bratty son is. What maybe works for us as a family is the fact that we respect every member8217;s individuality and, at the same time, have the ability to laugh at ourselves.

But something has changed over the last few days8212;ever since the news of the senseless violence broke out. My in-laws are still their loving and jovial self; it is me who has changed. Mornings are no more spent in friendly banter. The arrival of the newspapers which would earlier spark off news debates now marks my quiet withdrawal into my bedroom.

Every day has reports of violence against Christians in our country. Their crime? That either they or their forefathers chose Christianity over Hinduism. Over the last two months these villages have continued to burn. And so have I, in shame. My secular heart bleeds as I read of the death of these innocent believers of Jesus. As a Hindu in Christian household, who is treated more than equal in all aspects, I feel responsible.

Despite being religious, my family is sensible enough to understand that not all Hindus share the hatred for Christians as the hooligans have displayed. Yet, somewhere, I feel kinship with the criminals.

I fasted through Navratri and Ma mum-in-law made sure there was always something appropriate for me in the kitchen. Though a devout Catholic, she enjoys the odd episode of Mata Ki Chowki. In an attempt to understand my faith, she even followed the eight-day special programme on the show that delved into the significance of Navratri.

Ironically, Navratri felt more like Lent. I mourned for my fellow countrymen who had to give up their lives to keep my faith alive.

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I have spent the last few weeks avoiding all discussions about the violence that are likely to take place in our living room. Talks of participating in the peace march for fellow-Christians have made me go red in my face. Last month, when the violence reached Mangalore, I wanted to call a Mangalorean friend8217;s parents she too, is a Christian 8212; a fact that had never been of any consequence before to confirm their well-being. Instead, I merely enquired the same over an SMS.

Can someone tell me how I 8212; a Hindu daughter-in-law of a Catholic family, who has retained her faith after marriage 8212; am supposed to react when I read that Christians in Orissa are being forced to convert to Hindusim? The thought, like a demon, refuses to leave me, and the dilemma keeps me somber all day. Yes, it8217;s the cross I have to bear, and, like Jesus, it has been inflicted upon me by people who I used to call my own.

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