For me, reading Zeyad Masroor Khan’s memoir, City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh, evoked a sense off deja vu. Four decades ago, back in 1981, I found myself at my maternal grandmother’s house in Bihar amidst whispers of communal tension. Rumours circulated among the elders about a planned procession for Saraswati Puja by the Hindu community intending to pass near the Muslim graveyard and mosque. The Muslims opposed this, saying that the procession should follow its traditional route as they feared it would escalate tensions and potentially lead to violence if it entered the Muslim locality.
City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh
HarperCollins India
Pages: 312
Price: Rs.599
As apprehension mounted, the sight of the police in our neighbourhoods only heightened the anxiety among Muslims. Everyone believed the police would support the Hindu community if anything happened, a fear based on past experiences of police involvement in communal violence.
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In the days preceding the planned procession, sleep was a rare luxury, and when it did visit, it was frequently interrupted by haunting nightmares. Every noise sent shivers down my spine as though the threat of Hindu mobs loomed ominously over us. As a 9-year-old, this experience deeply distressed me and left a lasting impact on my mental health.
How communal tensions shape personalities
Looking back on those days, I see similarities between my experiences and the ones recounted in Zeyad’s memoir. The fear, uncertain communal relations, and threat of violence are familiar. Through his storytelling, Zeyad reminds me of the impact of communal tensions on individuals and communities and how they shape our personalities.
The narrative unfolds with a nuanced exploration of the city of Aligarh, its rich history, and the complex interplay of mythology and contemporary politics. The author delves into the conflicting claims surrounding the city’s name, juxtaposing the present narrative propagated by a right-wing group with historical records that paint a different picture of its origins. This sets the stage for a deeper examination of the city’s identity and the forces shaping its communal dynamics.
Central to the story is the depiction of Farsh Manzil, the author’s house, in Uper Kot, a well-known Muslim ghetto within Aligarh affectionately abbreviated as U.K. Positioned at the intersection of Hindu and Muslim enclaves, the author’s childhood home and places around it serve as a microcosm of the country’s communal divide. Initially, the author is oblivious to the underlying tensions, and then his innocence is shattered by a sudden discovery: a mysterious button hanging in a room of his home.
Highlights
- Abdullah Khan reviews Zeyad Masroor Khan’s City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh.
- This book of memories shines a light on the impact of communal tensions on individuals and communities.
- The book explores the city of Aligarh, its rich history, and the complex interplay of mythology and contemporary politics.
- The latter part of the memoir shifts focus to Delh and on how Muslim ghettos like Shaheen Bagh and Zakir Nagar are discriminated against.
The pressing of this button sets off a series of events that reveals the harsh reality of life in Uper Kot. Functioning as an alarm system, it alerts Muslims in the area to any visible signs of Hindu mobs attacking Uper Kot. The unfolding scene depicts panicked Muslims gathering in the streets ready to defend their neighbourhood against potential attacks from the mobs, providing a poignant insight into the lived experiences of Muslims in the Hindi heartland. This incident serves as a stark reminder of the community’s vulnerability and the absence of formal protection from law enforcement for minorities.
Later, Zeyad recounts a harrowing riot where his pregnant sister, Sayema, narrowly escapes harm as the mob converges near their residence. Despite a temporary return of peace after the riot, underlying tensions linger. Following the loss of many Muslim lives in the riots and also in police firings, young men from the Muslim community, often labelled as “troublemakers”, are arrested. Interestingly, the authorities find few troublemakers among the majority community, highlighting the biased role of law enforcement agencies in addressing such disturbances.
Amidst the unsettling narratives that fill the pages of this memoir, there are moments of warmth and humanity that stand out. One such instance occurs when the author recounts an incident aboard his school bus, where he and his fellow Muslim classmates, along with a few teachers, find themselves surrounded by a hostile Hindu mob. In this situation, Bablu, the bus helper, emerges as a hero, fearlessly confronting the mob to protect the children. His selfless and courageous act tells us how individuals can show compassion even in the most challenging and dangerous circumstances.
Being a Muslim in Delhi
In the latter part of the memoir, the narrative shifts to Delhi, where Zeyad shares his experience of how Muslim ghettos like Shaheen Bagh and Zakir Nagar are discriminated against, not only by the civic authorities when it comes to providing basic amenities but also by the private service providers like taxi services and food delivery apps. Believing that Delhi is not like Aligarh, he decides to live in a Hindu-dominated colony and then realises how wrong he was. The Delhi riots in 2020 work as an eye-opener for him. He reflects on how peaceful demonstrations against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act were vilified, leading to communal conflicts orchestrated with the knowledge of politicians and administrators. The tactics used in Aligarh to fuel communal tensions were repeated here.
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In the subsequent chapters, Zeyad reflects on the distribution of suffering during riots, stating that both majority and minority communities bear the brunt of violence. He argues that while minority communities often face significant devastation, majority communities also experience losses in terms of lives and property. Politicians and instigators of these riots exploit the suffering of both groups for their own political gains. Proposing a solution to these recurring cycles of violence, he says: “If we were ever to win this fight against these twin emotions of hate and fear, it would be with a bit of madness, courage, and love.”
Many of the author’s personal anecdotes are interesting, yet some of them do not seamlessly align with the overarching theme of the book and could have been reserved for another book. Nevertheless, City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh is an insightful exploration of communal dynamics in Aligarh and elsewhere and skilfully blends personal anecdotes with a wider sociopolitical analysis.
Abdullah Khan is author of two novels Patna Blues and A Man from Motihari.