6 min readJan 22, 2023 08:32 PM IST
First published on: Jan 22, 2023 at 03:44 PM IST
Recently, I happened to mention my plans to get together with some of my college friends — a diverse group of people from different religious backgrounds. To that, a close relative said: “Oh, will they be staying with you? Watch what you eat!” I immediately felt shame and remorse at my family’s views. How had a society that rarely showed religious bias grown so divisive? This interaction with my relative made me realise how anti-Muslim sentiments have taken hold of our everyday thoughts and considerations.
Hate is a mighty and destructive emotion that has the ability to poison the soul and the mind. Kerala, often seen as the most secular Indian state, at least till recent times, has been engulfed in an atmosphere of animosity against Muslims. It is disheartening to see a state praised for its harmony and amity when I was growing up, radicalised so much since.
The recent controversy at the 61st edition of the five-day Kerala School Arts Festival in Kozhikode has once again brought into the spotlight the growing Islamophobia in Kerala. A performance at the arts festival portrayed a person in an Islamic attire as a terrorist, inviting immediate protests by several Muslim organisations and forcing the CPM-led government to ban the responsible performing arts society from all future editions of the government-held event.
Portraying a terrorist in a keffiyeh (traditional headdress of Arab men) may sound like “casual” Islamophobia. It is similar to the recent incident of a professor at Manipal Institute of Technology who called a Muslim student “Kasab” during a lecture. This is where we fail to see how this “casual” Islamophobia has in fact put up an unseen wall of hatred and insecurity between people.
There was a time when I would look forward to my friend’s lunch, hoping for a real Malabar treat, the biryani her mother made; her umma (a term for “mother”, used by Muslims in Kerala) would be my umma and no one stopped me from saying so. But times have changed; I have to think twice before I say I had a meal with a Muslim friend. The fear of me being looked upon with suspicion as if I had committed a grave sin; the fear of my friend likely being subjected to scrutiny, and her intentions being questioned for no reason whatsoever is always looming in the background now. I now feel that I have to be cautious when I extend my support to their cause. This is the fear that most youngsters in Kerala feel, a fear that we need to get rid of.
I see a saddening shift in how people treat each other, think about each other: Intolerance is rampant in speech and thought alike. Kerala has been witnessing a drastic fall from its so-called secular image since 2020, with social media platforms spreading hatred. It is terrifying to see how parents, who once preached love and service, ask their children to stay away from a certain community; their minds being radicalised by the insensitive and strongly-worded debates that call for protecting one’s identity, culture, and religion. Many a time, I feel let down by my relatives who have bought into the fight against “love jihad”; who avoid having food at a Muslim restaurant that would, they believe, serve food after “spitting into it”. I have tried to put forth sound arguments trying to negate what they believe. It’s easier said than done. I am always told that I am going against the scriptures (Bible) or at least, the set norms. They perceive me as going astray, away from the right principles.
I made it a point to get into a meaningful conversation, letting them know that I or the generation I live in cannot be simply blinded by what a group says on social media. At times, the conversation ends on a cordial note with them accepting the truth. More often, it’s just a quarrel. De-radicalising our “grown-ups” is a task especially when they believe they are on the right path and dismiss our perceptions as those “corrupted by the modern world”. But the effort needs to continue.
Besides the raging issue of “love jihad”, 2020 and 2021 saw increasing attacks on the Muslim community over the “spit-halal” controversy with WhatsApp groups, Facebook and Clubhouse debates putting out twisted narratives on the matter and calls for boycotts and ostracisation of the community. A Catholic bishop had delivered a controversial sermon, in which he said that there is an organised “narcotic jihad” targeting non-Muslims in the state. Claiming that Kerala was facing an unprecedented crisis, the bishop pointed out that the most pressing issues were “love jihad” and “narcotic jihad”.
The hypocrisy of pointing fingers at others while creating an unsafe and fearful environment seems to be lost on most who have fallen prey to this propaganda of hate.
Now more than ever, we need an inclusive society, not one drowning in communal differences. Sensational social media debates with claims of protecting “Hindu” or “Indian” identity are not what we need to heed. The focus must be on raising awareness of the ills of communal hatred. It is our responsibility, no matter what our religion is, to put aside personal differences and work for the betterment of every community. As young minds, we must take a united stand to not get influenced by these divisive forces.
The hypocrisy of pointing fingers at others while creating an unsafe and fearful environment seems to be lost on most who have fallen prey to this propaganda of hate. (Illustration by Manali Ghosh) 
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