Dear reader,
“This was our temple,” the man told media persons in a trembling voice, looking at the debris left behind by the devastating landslides in Wayanad’s Chooralmala village on the morning of July 30. This particular clip went viral across television channels, touching hearts and minds across Kerala and beyond because the man who broke down as he stood looking at the ruins of the once beautiful and serene Vellarimala Shiva Temple was Nowshad, a Muslim. On social media, thousands shared the clip, calling it a gesture that spoke volumes about the idea of India—where a Muslim man is not only genuinely devastated at the loss of his neighbourhood temple but also calls it “his” shrine. He could have said “the Hindu temple” or “the temple,” but he called it his own.
Early this month, this writer was in Wayanad, covering the landslides that wiped out two beautiful villages and claimed at least 231 lives. Over a hundred are still missing. You can read Frontline’s coverage of the tragedy here and here. As fellow scribes kept talking about Nowshad’s comment, I was reminded of another incident that took place nearly two decades ago.
The year was 2004, and I was a student at the Calicut University campus in Malappuram district’s Thenhippalam. One day, news broke of a communal clash between two communities in Kozhikode district. Memories of the 2002-03 communal riots in Maradu in north Kerala were still fresh. As the news broke, inside the Calicut University Journalism Department sat two teachers: V.S. Sasibhooshan Nair (whom we fondly called “Bush”) and Mohiyuddin Nadukkandiyil Karassery, commonly known as M.N. Karassery, critic and social commentator, who worked at the Malayalam department. The news of religious conflict, though unconfirmed at that point, pained both men, one a Hindu and the other a Muslim. They fell silent for a moment, and Bush told Karassery: “What’s happening to this world, Karassery! It appears we will soon enter a world where you and I will hack each other to death!”
Karassery smiled at Bush and replied: “No, my dear Sasi. A day when I will be killing you will never come, and if a day comes when you will be forced to kill me, I’d be happy to die at your hands, my dear friend. I will not hesitate even for a second and I will not even blink an eye.”
It was an intense moment. As I stood watching my two teachers sit there smiling at each other, their eyes welled up (at least I thought so because my own eyes had welled up and there was something stuck in my throat). I consider it one of the best lessons from my college days.
Those words between two friends are something we’d heard a Narayana Guru or a Mahatma Gandhi say. They were making a manifesto for secular India. And millions of Indians have followed that in letter and in spirit.
India has changed a lot since then. In fact, 2004 was not a safe year. The memories of the Gujarat riots were still fresh in public memory, and the demolition of Babri Masjid a decade ago was also fresh. Still, Gandhi’s India was holding on, occasionally making its bright presence felt in moments like the one I described above, reminding us of the people we were or wished to be after the anguish of Partition and the violence we saw in the process of building a secular republic.
In recent years, the pace of polarisation has become faster. There are multiple reasons for this—political, economic, cultural—some organic, some manufactured. It has spread to such an extent that even a hint of secularism makes news to be celebrated. Instances of communal harmony, otherwise taken as normal, go viral on social media. Sociologists say a generation is growing up hesitating to celebrate differences, cocooning itself into echo chambers of varying hues.
It is thus important to remind ourselves regularly about the “real” India that still exists, the India that can be a beacon for the future. The India where sacrifices, camaraderie, and compassion overpower polarisation and faux religious pride. It might mean reiterating old stories or finding new ones. Or telling old stories of communal harmony in ways palatable to a new generation.
Frontline has just such a heartwarming story to share. An old story but now made into a new short film called “Together We Sing”. It is about two villages in North Karnataka where something special happens. Here, Hindus and Muslims come together to celebrate Muharram. It’s not just a festival, it’s a beautiful example of people living side by side in mutual respect and peace. It is the true picture of a united India that one fights to keep alive. Watch this short and sweet video on YouTube. We guarantee it will put a smile on your face. If it does, share it and let the smiles grow.
I’m certain, dear reader, that you have your own special story to share—stories we once took for granted, stories we somehow forgot to pass on, stories that remind us of our real selves and not what bigots tell us we are. Write back to us. Who know, maybe there’s a movie in there too.
Wishing you a harmonious week ahead,
For Frontline,
Jinoy Jose P.
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