Opinion I encountered hate, bigotry in a barbershop. But amid fear and anger, I found hope in a lift

Back to my Saturday salon visit. I was halfway through when two gentlemen came in. I could gather they knew the barber well, and were possibly from the same state. They all got talking about their hometown in Bihar. Nothing unusual up until now. The chatter revolved around high crime rates across the country. Fine. But the solution to tackle this problem, as per one of the gentlemen, was rather alarming. “The government should do away with the samvidhan for a couple of days and we will solve this problem,” he said.

I could not hold back, and politely asked him, “But what can you do in the absence of the Constitution? And how does it help in tackling crimes?” He blurted out the usual bravado, “We are ready to die for the country.” I said this is fine “but without the Constitution…?”

The conversation soon drifted towards the current government’s performance. By then I wasn’t paying any attention to the chatter around me. But minutes later, what followed was an open threat to eliminate a particular community. Here I was, sitting in a salon, even as a fellow citizen openly proclaiming that the country would be better off without me, a Muslim. For a moment, those ideas of assimilation, unity in diversity seemed so lofty, and going up in smoke.

“Modi ji to accha hi kaam kar rahe hain, lekin Musalmaanoon ko hi acha nahi lag raha hai (Modiji is doing good work but only the Muslims are not convinced)”, the hairdresser came up with this theory. Fair enough. It’s a point of view. But the gentleman next to me left all pretence, not even realising that there could be people of a different faith around him.

“Ek acchi baat ye hui hai ke ab ye saare Musalmaan dareey hue hain aur time aa gaya hai inko khatam karne ka. (One good thing that has happened is that Muslims are now scared and the time has come to eliminate all of them),” he said.

I froze. This is not even a dog whistle. It’s xenophobic, Islamophobic, hate speech all combined together. Within minutes, I felt reduced to just being a Muslim, and not an equal citizen who may or may not subscribe to his views. And he said this without an iota of hesitation — exuding his resolve and determination.

Seething with anger, I confronted him. I stood up, looked into his eyes, and said, “Boss, I am a Muslim and live nearby. But I am NOT AT ALL SCARED OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU.” There was a stunned silence. Taken aback, he couldn’t muster the courage to respond to me.

I went home thinking about my children and the hate they might face. A hate-filled society will only make them fearful citizens. A citizen who may have to hide his religious identity so that he can be acceptable to the majority. My mind choked with these scary thoughts.

I am sure I am not the first one to experience this and may not be the last. But the impunity with which this hate has percolated in today’s consciousness should make all of us worry. Earlier it was subtle, insinuated. I remember carrying each of cricketer Azhar’s ducks or poor form in the cricket field as a cross until his next decent score. Each time a crime is committed, we feel a sigh of relief if the accused turns out not to be a Muslim. Now, this hate and othering is on steroids, in your face, brazen, and macabre.

PS: I met my immediate neighbour inside the lift while back from the salon. We both greeted each other. It was a glimmer of hope and the silver line between hate and love and respect. Normal in the course of the day, where all citizens are equal — a guarantee ensured by the Constitution.

wali.ahmad@indianexpress.com