HARIJAI SINGH PART 4

CHAPTER 36
It was a gala wedding but simple in America’s civil marriage
procedure. All that is required is to sign as husband and wife.
No religious credentials sought; no frivolous questions raised.
Zaheer’s family had a limited presence of very close relations.
His American and Indian friends made their presence felt in big
numbers.
We too had quite a large number of relations and friends of all
nationalities. My Dadaji had developed quite a big network of
friends and well-wishers.
I too had a large number of friends from the University and
some close personal friends like Suzie, Marie, Lolita.
Of course, everything was different from childhood fantasies of
doll brides and doll grooms attired in traditional Hindu style!
Childhood dreams vanish as we grow up and come face to face
with realities.
Perhaps, every girl has her own dreams which evolve around
her childhood friends.
But then, life is not child’s play. Childhood is cute, innocent and
simple.
Nothing remains simple as we grow up. All that we carry at the
back of our mind is our dreams. Those dreams are our sole
personal property. No one can snatch them away. No one can
crush them, whatever be the circumstances.
As a young girl, I had a different set of fantasies, woven around
my nomadic life, from Karachi to Mumbai to Deolali refugee
camp to Logos and then amidst the glittering city of New York.
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I have moved with time. My life’s secret mantra has been:
Don’t live with regrets.
Look back for life’s lesson or two.
Look ahead with hope.
Rays of hope give my life the sunshine to move on with courage
and confidence.
Sorry. I sound somewhat philosophical on my great wedding
day.
I know I have to face new realities, new faces some friendly and
some not-so-friendly, if not hostile.
I had decided to adopt a business-like attitude towards Zaheer’s
family friends. First, assess them and then open a bit of your
heart.
This was a different world I had not bargained for. But then I
have to face it with a sense of adventure, keeping my spirit
high.
I had decided not to be goody goody or docile.
So, I kept my chin high, unlike a typical middle class Hindu
bride.
That evening of the wedding reception was quite an event for
whispers and gossips.
“Do you think this marriage will click, with boy and girl coming
from different religious backgrounds?”
“Forget about your world. We are today in a different world
where money, understanding, your class matter, not religion,
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especially when you work and live in a foreign country”. That
was the response I overheard behind me.
I dared not look behind. Our life is not to be decided by
whispers and gossips one hears on such occasions. Life is more
sublime than one can ever imagine!
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CHAPTER 37
Our honeymoon destination is a far away Indian Ocean islandnation,
Mauritius. A lovely place with beautiful beaches, oceankissed
gentle breeze.
I wanted to be at a place away from the jostling and maddening
crowd of New York, where no one knows who we are and to
which religion we belong.
Of course, our faces tell all, that we are from the subcontinent,
a modern Indian couple with dollar power.
We checked in at a five-star hotel on the beach. The setting is
fabulous – an ideal for honeymooning couple, irrespective of
the mood of romancing which, even otherwise, varies from
time to time and from one couple to another.
As usual, my early morning starts with yoga, the life-line of my
existence. This is what keeps me going, howsoever lofty might
be waves of my life.
At the end of one and a half hour of my pranayama and yoga
asanas, I am at peace with myself as well as with serene
surroundings.
Life then flows at its own natural pace.
Sh-Sh-Sh! Did I talk about my first night?
NoNo. Not yet!
The Night is still 12 hours away. Why waste time in imagination.
Every young girl has her own fantasies and romantic concepts.
So are mine. This is one area where Priests, Moulvis and Pandits
do not creep in.
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Every romantic and honeymooning couple is left to their
fantasies and exploits.
Ancient India has its own world famous Kamasutra. Sometimes
I wonder how come a spiritual India could have such a treatise
on Sex?
How come some of our famous ancient temples could
artistically depict sex postures so candidly?
I have no rational explanation to such questions. This could be a
very fascinating area for in-depth study.
Not that this has not been done in ancient scriptures and
modern literature. Still, I find the whole exercise somewhat
intriguing.
One philosophical theory is: Kamasutra teaches you self-control
before you get into deeper quest for spiritual power and
salvation.
To be honest with you, I have no right answer. As a newlywedded
person, I am surely fascinated by the range and
dimensions of these sex postures.
These have cast a spell on a number of Western authors who
have written a number of pictorial books.
I would be dishonest if I do not admit that I am too fascinated.
This is my strictly personal matter. I do not share my inner
thoughts and fantasies even with my husband.
A Hindu girl is supposed to be sober and modest when it comes
to sex matters.
Of course, time is changing. Life and sound bites on the silver
screen and on TV have changed everything, even in private
walls of bedrooms.
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I must say that Ancient India was more candid and transparent
about sex panoramas. Otherwise, these would not have
become an open wall windows of some of our temples, say,
Konark in Odisha.
Coming back to my honeymoon with Zaheer, we made the
most of our sojourn.
Forget about Kamasutra. I never realized that a Pathan could be
so ferocious on bed, as he is supposed to be on the battlefield.
The only saving grace is that in the bedroom, the Pathans could
be ferociously aggressive, but does not “kill” the person at the
other end. The rest I would leave to your imagination and the
level of your fantasy. I am not supposed to share with you
those passionate moments.
Publicly, I have to live up to my modest image as a Hindu girl
as is generally depicted on the silver screen!
One secret, however, I must share with future honeymooners:
Speak not in words, but through lips and eyes. They are more
potent than words!
Also, remember words uttered in unguarded moments can
spoil the honeymoon rhythm, with serious consequences in the
days and nights ahead.
So complex is Human Nature!
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CHAPTER 38
Back to New York, our married life picked up the work
momentum, slowly but smoothly.
Work and fantasy don’t go together, not in New York where the
pace of life hardly gives you a chance to pause and look back.
Life’s signal is sharp and clear: look ahead and look forward.
This is a matter of survival.
Survive all must, but in a harmonious way. This is how Zaheer
and I have adjusted our life beautifully without any trace of
friction. This was possible simply because there was no thirdparty
intervention in our life.
Zaheer’s parents and relations were back in Saharanpur. Right
now, I won’t recall my mother-in-law’s partying advice to me. I
shall share with you later, at an opportune time. Right now, my
priority is to pick up the threads from my research work.
As for Zaheer, he was awfully busy with his work. He was
working hard since his promotion was on the cards. So, he had
no time to think and talk about small, small things of life. I like
this.
I too do not wish to get lost in small matters of life. I always
believe in Think Big and Act Big. This is what makes life
challenging and stimulating.
Weeks passed by. Months rolled into years. Life, by and large,
has a smooth sailing. More than half of my research on intercommunity
relations was through. I was happy with the
progress. But I cannot build castles of harmony on certain set
theories.
Inter-community relationship is a live issue. It could vary from
one set of persons to another. It could change in assessment
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and evaluation from city to city, from an urban centre to a rural
one, from one country to another and from one regional zone
to another.
As I have already said, human nature is a complex
phenomenon. It cannot be cast in one mould. There would be
variations and complexities. With these factors in mind, I realize
that my most taxing and challenging task will be the second
part of my study which has to be based on my observation and
experience from my field tour which will take me to parts of the
US as well as the subcontinent.
I was mentally get set for my field study. I have already lots of
ideas. But these have to be tested on the ground – on what
people say and talk about; their hopes and apprehensions; their
fears and reservations.
One thing I have already come to realize, that is Dollar Power
gives a new confidence to immigrants, prompting them to see a
new deal in equality and liberty with the natives, sons of the
soil.
And the Muslims as a community does attract a special notice
because of global complexities in West Asia, the Sub-Continent,
especially.
Well, everything globally is Power Game, whether calculated in
dollars or petrodollars.
In fact, global complexities made my research work difficult and
taxing. This is simply because global complexities have had their
fallout on human relationship.
I have no idea how I would deal with these wheels within
wheels in human nature to give my work a degree of coherence
in thought process and presentation.
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It is quite a job. But I am determined to make the best of these
challenges and make my work noteworthy.
I have also at the back of mind, my mother-in-law Begum
Saira’s whispering but firm advice: “Having married my son,
think of yourself as a Muslim bride. You cannot delink yourself
from our family’s religious norms and ethos. It will be in your
interest and peace of mind. Think about it seriously before you
come to meet us at Saharanpur”.
I did not react to her advice, though I must say I did not like it. It
looked like a threat bordering on blackmail.
When I told Zaheer about it, he dismissed it.
“You are married to me. What will hold good is what we have
decided between two of us. I stand by it, not just to please you
but out of my personal conviction.
“I don’t believe in the clash of civilizations or of religions”.
“Religions should not divide us. They should be a binding force
through silken threads of love, understanding, mutual respect
and tolerance. I see no problem”.
Zaheer was clear and categorical. However, our Partition
experience and ground realities throw up a different picture
before me. So, I have to be realistic, and not allow myself to be
carried away. After all, I have to face Zaheer’s near and dear
ones.
I must confess that in my moments of solitude one thought
kept bothering me. That is, why not adopt Islam and see for
yourself any difference the way you see the world today.
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I was just curious about it, just to understand how human
attitudes and relations undergo any perspective change with a
change of religious labels. I was not sure.
All the same, it did strike me, why not? Perhaps, this change
over might help me in my research work-to-see intercommunity
relations through personal experience. This might
add value to my doctorate thesis. I was not sure.
But then, life is a gamble. And we all are, some time or the
other, get caught in the gamble of life.
You might call it Destiny. What is destined, happens, whether
we like it or not.
I was jolted out of my wandering thoughts by the musical sound
of my mobile. It was Zaheer calling.
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CHAPTER 39
At the earliest, I went to my parents’ house to share my inner
thoughts.
“Amma, I am toying with the idea of embracing Islam”.
“What?”
Amma’s scream was near hysterical. She must be wondering
whether I was the same Priya!
“How could you think on these lines? You have grounded all our
emotions and passionate commitments to our own religion.
How could you do it?”
I could see my mother to be terribly disturbed by my intent.
“Amma. Please calm down. Just listen to me. Nothing has and
nothing will change within my inner self. I am the same Priya –
physically, mentally, emotionally with as spiritually lore.
Only my outer will undergo a change and that too for a great
cause.
“I want to see closely what divides humanity. Our Gods don’t
divide us. Still, there is so much of turmoil, conflicts and
violence around us in the name of Allah?”
“Why should you waste your time and energy in these silly
questions?” Amma continued to be agitated by my declaration
of intent.
“Amma, please try to understand. You know it well that mine it
was not “love at first sight” that attracted me towards Zaheer.
It was his overall outlook, disposition, attitude and human
qualities which drew me towards him. I wish to understand why
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Zaheer is one among lakhs of young Muslims. Why can’t we
have more of Zaheer-like Muslim youngsters?”.
“Priya. I understand what you wish to say. I know these days
Islam means different things to different Muslims. But, why
should this bother you? Just be happy and live life on your own
set terms”, Amma said categorically.
“But Amma, you know about my Ph.D. thesis. My conversion
probably will give a greater authenticity to my work. Amma,
just see this new Priya for the sake of my academic freedom to
assess things freely and think freely from close quarters.
“I value my academic freedom. I want to exercise it
independently, in futuristic term, free from pre-conceived ideas
and dogmas of Mullahs. I hope you will understand me, my
darling Amma”.
“I do see your point. Still, I find it difficult to reconcile myself to
your thought. I have seen closely how we Hindus have suffered
the tyranny and barbarism at the hands of fanatic Muslims
during Partition. Those Partition scenes still haunt me”.
“Amma, I understand your agony. But don’t think you are losing
your Priya to the Muslim world. I am doing it for a tactical
purpose, for an honest academic purpose of how Wahabisation
of Sunni Islam and Khoneinisation of Shia Islam and related
matters have sharpened Islam’s internal divisions and divided
the lives of ordinary Muslims, leading to competitive
radicalization of Islam and created hostility within and without
vis-à-vis other faiths and beliefs”.
The tone of Priya was sharp and candid like a Professor.
“I understand you. Even Hinduism and Christianity have gone
through the processes of upheavals and emerged stronger. I am
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not sure of the Muslim world. It is too complex for my
understanding. I shudder to think of a regressive, insular and
intolerant Islam thriving on hatred and violence. Even
Ahmadiya’s are suffering on this count. The menace of violent
vigilantism of Islam is now haunting the Western world. That is
not all. We now see intra-Muslim intolerance. Even in the
Middle-East, Muslims are killing fellow Muslims for not being
Muslim enough!”
“I understand Amma. Let me see this world through my own
eyes. I assure you. I won’t do anything at the cost of values and
ethos as a devout Hindu which is in my blood and upbringing.”
“OK , Priya. Think coolly. It is your life. You have freedom to
decide the course of your life. I only wish you well and all the
happiness as a mother”.
“I shall brief your father about your change of heart. In other
words, the changeover to hijab for your external image for a
bigger academic cause – for freedom towards understanding a
better liberal society. Good luck and all success. This is your
mother’s inner voice. I shall only think well of you and pray for
your safety and honour”.
“Thank you so much, Amma. I love you. I shall see Dadaji and
you next week. Bye, Amma”.
“Bye, Priya. God bless you!”
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CHAPTER 40
Having made up my mind, I shared my thoughts with Zaheer.
“What? have you gone crazy?Why this sudden change? I have
loved you and accepted you as Priya. Let it be so”.
Zaheer could not simply believe this sudden change in me.
“Is there any pressure from my parents? Hope they are not
blackmailing you”. Zaheer’s anxiety was written on his face.
“No. nothing of the sort. I had told you your mother’s parting
words before she left for Saharanpur. That’s all”, I told Zaheer.
“But Priya. For the first time I fail to grasp this abrupt decision. I
could never get any clue”, Zaheer said.
“Yes. You are right. It is my decision. No pressure from any
quarters,” I said.
But I want to understand why this change of heart. I must know
the reason.” Zaheer’s words were assertive.
“As I said, it was my decision. I must tell you honestly that I just
wish to feel the difference between Priya as a Hindu bride
married to a Muslim bridegroom and Priya as whatever be my
name after Nikahon conversion! I am telling you honestly. Does
this make any difference in me as a human being? I wish to
resolve my academic dilemma. Of course, I shall oppose
vehemently any forcible conversion. I love my religion. I respect
other religious faiths without any malice or rancur. But no
change by force.
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“Hinduism does not believe in this. I know what my country has
gone through because of our own weaknesses. We have given a
heavy price on this count. That’s a different matter.
“I also know. Love does not go by religious boundaries. Still, we
have to live in a society divided in different segments of caste,
class and religions.
“I want to find out common denominators for peace,
understanding, tolerance and brotherhood”.
Zaheer suddenly butted in.
“Oh, I never realized that there is a philosopher within you”.
We burst into laughter.
“Yes Zaheer? There is a hidden philosopher in me who wishes
to have an answer to problems our society is often faced with.
We have to understand social realities better. Perhaps, our
society then might be a better place to live in”.
I suddenly stopped on this serious note and looked into
Zaheer’s eyes.
He suddenly blushed and said, “Oh, my philosopher darling.
What an idea. You wish to change the world we live in. Our
great souls tried this before and failed. Yet, you want to try. Ok.
Good luck. Try, if you want ! Human behaviour, like water,
flows from top to bottom”.
“Yes, you are right. We can at least create an oasis of love and
peace. Where is the problem?” I said.
“Oh yes. This water business reminds me I am very hungry.
Let’s go out and have some food. My hungry belly cannot
survive on your philosophical notes. Let’s go out and eat”.
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“Oh, hungry Zaheer. I am too hungry”. I said smilingly, and
added, “give me 15 minutes to get ready”.
“Take 20 minutes. I shall also change,” Zaheer said.
“Yes. Do change. Change is the spice of life,” I said. I could see
some twinkle in my eyes.
“Oh, no more philosophy, Priya. Come back to the ground. We
are in New York. Its glitter has no place for philosophy. It is all
glitter of dollars. Do not forget your credit cards, Priya”.
“I forget nothing”. I rushed to my dressing table for change.
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CHAPTER 41
Six months of married life have given me a new perspective of
life. I am a thinking person, and I do it calmly without anyone
noticing my churning process within.
I owe this to my yoga power and meditation. Yoga teaches you
how to remain calm, maintain poise and mental equilibrium
whatever be the nature and intensity of turbulence around.
Knowing this power of yoga, I never compromise on the daily
schedule of at least 90 minutes for yoga and meditation. That
makes your life sublime. I often feel that this is the most
precious contribution of Ancient India to humanity from great
Patanjali sage to present day gurus and swamis hovering
around the country and the world with the message of Yoga.
I know yoga apart, I have to think about the next step in my life.
My visit to Saharanpur and my voluntary decision for “Nikah”
are two uppermost thoughts in my mind.
Life is a gamble. Play well. One learns a lot about one’s own
ability to test nerves as well as your ability to overcome the
stresses and strains of life.
More than this, it unfolds before you human nature of various
shades and hues, of various religious colours, of harmony and
acrimony and what not.
My objective is to see life in various situations and complexities.
Perhaps, my life’s experiences would help me in my doctoral
thesis.
I am thinking on new lines. My work is not going to be a cutand-paste
job on who said or wrote what.
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I wish to be different. I wish to do my doctoral work as a live
exercise, tested on the ground. Not a goody-goody affair in the
also-ran category.
Life has to be lived and experienced and built on new norms
and thinking.
Hackneyed ideas and established academic theories and
counter- theories take you nowhere in today’s changing world
of more turmoil, more unrest, more conflicts and more
turbulence.
This is not what the Almighty had visualized. We must mend
our ways and think of life and society.
And here I am, taking a plunge into the unknown with total
clarity, and yet with an open mind.
An open mind holds the key to better understanding of
complexities around us.
I derive my strength from the Vedas and Puranas, from the
Ramayana and the Mahabharata and Lord Krishna’s Gita. These
are not mere Hindu books and scriptures. They are the
treasures of humanity which accept different roads to finding
Truth and civilizational values.
The problem arises when vested interests and middlemen butt
in between God and Man.
Think with an open mind as I proceed to Saharanpur to take a
plunge into the unknown world of Islam—with no prompting or
and not under any duress!
Well, life is an experiment.
Unknown factors make life interesting and challenging.
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What is, after all, life without challenges?
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CHAPTER 42
My “Nikah” at Saharanpur was a gala affair. My in-laws side had
seen to it that the marriage ceremony was a grand show. After
all, their NRI son Zaheer from New York is a pride possession of
the community.
Money was no problem for the Khan family. Their relations had
come from all over India, Pakistan and Afghanistan. So powerful
were the Khan family bonds.
From our side, it was a low-key presence – my parents and a
couple of my father’s close friends.
We treated the whole show on a lowkey. There was no
excitement. No execuberance. Just a routine matter in
deference to my wishes.
I could feel my father did not like it, but he preferred to take it
easy and went along without showing any anguish on his face.
But I could feel his reservations. My Amma did hint about my
Dadaji’s reservations, but she managed to take him along.
I could hear some murmurings among my father’s friends.
“I don’t know why she should have decided to play with her life.
She could have got any brilliant Hindu boy. I don’t know why
she should have staked our religious feelings in this gamble”.
That was Jamnadas Lahori, Dadaji’s old friend from our native
place of Larkana in undivided India.
He was very fond of me. I could feel his inner resentment,
though in person he tried his best to hide his feelings.
I know how to take things in stride. I wish to move on in my life
on my terms,realising fully that it a big gamble. Even my heart
of hearts does not endorse it.
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But I had a purpose. I want to see my life differently in the hope
that it will enrich my thoughts and thesis work. Well, I could be
wrong. I understand this.
I do realize the world does not go by doctoral theories or
counter theories. It goes on its own momentum, driven by
unknown factors of human behavior, from the streets to
corridors of power.
“Oh, let me not get lost in life’s philosophy. I am face to face
with life’s new reality I had opted for. And this has brought me
to UP’s sprawling town of Saharanpur.
Solemnizing “nikah” between a Muslim boy and a non- Muslim
girl goes by a set procedure.
For me, it was a mere formality, after that civil marriage in New
York and quietly-paced honeymoon in Mauritius.I was
informally briefed about it by a knowledgeable person in
Zaheer’s family.
The “Nikah” ceremony started with select relatives and guests.
My parents and our family friends were very much there.
I was first made to recite the first “kalima”– La ilaha illa llah
Mohammad-ur-Rasool Allah – with the help of the cleric of
Zaheer’s family.
My new name – Zarina – was used for my identification for the
“Nikah” ceremony.
The “Nikah” was performed in the presence of two male
witnesses, asking me whether I am ready for my “nikah” with
Zaheer.
I had to say three times “yes”, “qabool hai, qabool hai, qabool
hai”.
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The witnesses then moved to Zaheer, the bridegroom, and told
the “Qazi” (cleric) that Zarina had expressed her readiness for
her “nikah” with Zaheer.
The “Qazi” then recited the prescribed verse from the Quran in
front of Zaheer, two witnesses and another person who played
the role of a lawyer.
“Qazi” asked Zaheer whether he was ready to accept Zarina as
his wife.
Zaheer, as per practice, said three times “yes, qabool hai,
qabool hai, qabool hai”.
The cleric then recited a “dua” (blessings) and the marriage was
then solemnized.
It was all over in 15 minutes.
On completion of the “nikah”, small packets of dry fruits and
sweets were distributed among those present.
Thereafter, it was all gala celebration and dinner.
I could see my father and his friends in dazzled silence. They
must have been wondering what sort of Allah had gripped my
Priya to become Zarina!
I understand their dilemma. After being uprooted and educated
in Nigeria and the US, life for me was a great experience, to be
lived and believed. For me, there were no dotted lines to
follow.
I created my own dots and followed them. This is what the
Vedas teach us to explore your own path to the Truth!
I may be Zarina today for Zaheer’s family. But at heart I am still
the same Priya, brought up by parents with certain values.
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The same Priya attracted Zaheer towards me – not as a Muslim
boy, but a forward-looking, modern and good human being.
Besides, it was my academic road to evolve a better
understanding between persons from different religious
backgrounds.
We can at least be decent human beings by inculcating the art
of understanding, respect and tolerance towards other religious
faiths.
My “nikah” march from Priya to Zarina is just a small step in the
service of the Almighty!
At heart I am Priya. My blood group does not change with the
change of name and religion.
After the “nikah” at Saharanpur, the process of my
familiarization with members of the family began.
It was quite a large family. Quite a task to remember names
and family labels as well as who is to be addressed as what –
elder brother ‘bhaijaan’, elder sister ‘aapa’ or ‘baaji’, younger
brother of Zaheer’s father ‘baray abbu’, father’s father ‘dada’
and so on.
I faithfully showed my respect to the elders and smilingly
greeted the youngsters. There was lots of warmth around.
Enthusiasm was to be seen to be believed among the
youngsters. Perhaps, it was special fascination for the Vilayat--
dollar dream land of America.
For days together there were unending lunches and dinners
hosted by close relations. In those lavish feasts, the sole
problem was me being vegetarian.
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It was quite a task for the hosts to organize my vegetarian
meal.
Well, I enjoyed this drill. At least it was quite a mental drill for
the hosts to get themselves familiarized with vegetarian meal.
Of course, in India vegetarian food is no problem in Hindu
homes and at hotels and restaurants.
It is a different story in Muslim homes.
A week went by. Another three days, Zaheer and I were
scheduled to be US-bound for our work.
For me, the send-off from the Indira Gandhi International
Terminal was quite a relief – from too many to just two of US.
Zaheer’s mother, Saira Begum, took me aside and said;
“You see the difference. You can feel for yourself what it is like
to be a Muslim, belonging to Allah, Prophet Mohammad. You
must practise all the rituals as a Muslim girl. No deviation.
Otherwise, Allah will never forgive you”.
I just nodded my head. I know there is no point in joining issues.
Silence is golden in such situations which might not be in tune
with your thinking.
“Take care of Zaheer as a good wife. Don’t forget”.
“Yes. Amma,” I said with a smile.
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CHAPTER 43
With an understanding husband, in New York, I have left
Saharanpur behind. Life is as usual – home, my parents, friends
on and off the campus, thesis work in a somewhat new
perspective, my guides, debates, interaction, freedom to
breathe freely, think freely with no spying eyes of clerics.
New York has its own ethos. Everything gets lost in the mad
race to work, business, academic searches, research and highpowered
global debates on rights and wrongs of the
international order at the UN headquarters here.
Where is then time and energy left for mundane affairs of life?
Life is a never-ending movement. In such momentum, months
passed by, making a year.
Exactly a year after my “nikah” came the lightning bombshell of
9/11. Amidst the devastating debacle of the twin towers,
symbolic of a new post-Second War globalism, everything was
topsy-turvy. Islamic terrorism had hit America’s symbols of
democracy, peace and prosperity.
Suddenly, the 9/11 feeling of “I don’t sense any fear in being
Muslim at all” disappeared.
Grieving Americans were caught in the grip of fear after the
attacks of September 11, 2011.
“How could anyone carry out such an assault” by hijacking four
US airliners and killing nearly 3000 people after flying them into
the World Trade Center Towers and the Pentagon?” they all
wondered.
Suddenly, the Americans were face to face with terrorists right
at their doorsteps. And they found villains in Muslims, Arabs
and anyone who looked like different -- the terrorists!
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Looking back dispassionately, I found Muslim Americans went
from being one of the least targeted religious groups in the US
to hate crimes against all those associated with Islam .
9/11 was a second big shock of my life after the 1947 Partition
days in Karachi. All those positive perspectives about Islam then
underwent a change – from its humane facets to the
emergence of sinister faces.
I found myself in a state of shock. So were Zaheer’s feelings. He
too was shocked as he found that his privileged existence as a
Muslim might get threatened.
The only saving grace for him was his Indian identity, Indian
passport and all Indian links which do stand out here.
For me, I was doubly blessed as Hindu and Indian. My “nikah”
was just a formality; an experiment in my marital existence.
Suddenly I too was conscious that I cannot flaunt my Muslim
credentials after the “Nikah”.
I found Zaheer in deep introspection. He did not share with me
what was going on in his mind.
I could feel that some fear of the unknown seemed to be
bothering him. Maybe, some change in the work atmosphere.
Maybe, some perceptible change in his colleagues’ attitudes
towards him. I know his Indian credentials were near to his
heart. He was never a fanatic Muslim. He was liberal, humane,
understanding and tolerant of other faiths.
Well, that was the reason why I am his life’s partner.
Of course, I know life will never be the same in New York.
Everything will change. I do not know whether the change will
be for the better or worse. I keep my fingers crossed.
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CHAPTER 44
For days I found Zaheer in a terrible state of introspection. He
would not talk much. His replies to all my questions would be
yes or no.
I was terribly upset. One evening I confronted him.
“Zaheer, this is no good. You must come out of this state of
introspection and depression and face the realities with a total
clarity of mind. Share with me at least the conflicting thoughts
in your mind. You can’t treat me like an outsider. Please do
speak out, for Allah’s sake”, I insisted.
“Yes. I shall tell you everything”, he told me.
“Is everything fine in the office, with your colleagues?” I asked
him.
“Yes. The office is OK. They continue to respect me for my
professional skills”.
“They know I am different”.
“They know I am a liberal person, and not part of Islam’s radical
brigade”.
“They know I treat religions as an individual’s matter of faith
and practice”.
“Still, I find some tension in the atmosphere”.
“I wonder how things take shape tomorrow.That is what I have
been brooding about, without finding a light at the end of this
post 9/11 terrible tragedy”.
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Zaheer shared his thoughts. All the while he was looking at the
ceiling of the apartment, without an eye-to-eye contact with
me.
“Zaheer, I understand your agony. You are a sincere person,
having a sensitive mind. I believe you should lift your spirit and
speak out against this insensitive killer Islamists. I am sure Allah
would never forgive them. He will punish them”.
I put my hands on Zaheer’s broad shoulders and tried to cheer
him up.
I am not sure. Fanaticism has no boundaries. Nor does it go by
any time limit, once it gets rolling. Why should Saudi fugitive
Osama bin Laden be playing with the lives of fellow Muslims
and fellow human beings? We must raise our voice publicly
against him and his followers”.
Zaheer raised his fist in the air with all the vigour at his
command.
“Yes. I agree with you. I admire you for this spirit”.
My words brought some smile on his face.
“I also know that the moment I open my mouth publicly, some
of his fanatic followers around would target and kill me”.
Zaheer’s lips were quivering.
“Let your enemies die. Don’t think negative about yourself. I
can’t afford to lose you”.
At these words of mine, he came forward and hugged me hard
and exclaimed at the top of his voice: “I love you, Priya”!
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