October 4-7, 2006 - Hindu-Muslim Riots: Curfew from dawn to dusk for a week, shoot at sight, tear gas thrown to dismiss the unruly mob and lathi charge to beat up protestors and, a lot of ‘violence’.
September 14-16, 2008 - Hindu-Christian Riots: Angry protestors sitting in front of Churches to protect it from attacks. Tear gas, lathi charge and Section 144 used to dismiss the angry young lads. And, again, a lot of ‘violence’.
June 2, 2010 - Mass Burial of the unidentified bodies of the victims of the plane crash which happened on the fatal Saturday morning of 22nd of May, 2010. Muslims, Hindus, Christian, Sikhs; everyone holding wreaths, garlands and flowers to honour the victims, conveying their heart-felt condolences to the relatives of the deceased and sharing the grief of their fellow brethren. And, a lot of ‘Peace’.
I remember the two major riots that happened during my high-school and pre-university days with unfazed clarity. The Hindu-Muslim riots happened during the holy month of Ramadhan. The shocked expression on my parents’ face, the hushed talks about a murder that initiated the friction between two communities, the fights over sacrificing the cow, the media stealthily covering the riots, kids asked to stay back at home which had become the safest haven for everyone. Well, at least everyone. The Hindu-Christian clash was history repeating itself all over again. Breaking down of idols, attacking innocent women and children, stoning of the holy places – all that in the name of religion.
Allah says in Qur`an in Surah Al-Hujurat (49:13) "O people, we created you from the same male and female, and rendered you distinct peoples and tribes, that you may recognize one another. The best among you in the sight of GOD is the most righteous. GOD is Omniscient, Cognizant"
Back then it all seemed like fun to me and my cousins because we got to stay at home and miss our regular classes at school at a stretch. I remember waiting in front of the television for the reporter`s announcement about the suspension of classes for another week and howling with happiness. Now when I look back at those ignorant days I realise there was nothing to joke about or nothing to celebrate.
When our folks had safely locked us up in our houses, there were other parents who were mourning the death of their children. When our parents tucked us into bed and kissed us ‘Good-Night’, other parents prayed silently for the safe-being of their children who had been dragged out of their beds and held as hostages. When our parents kept storing food for the curfew days, other parents couldn’t even swallow a morsel of food due to the loss of their loved ones.
But look at the irony today. When we are alive we bicker and fight, gamble and cheat, mug and kill; all in the name of God and His religion. But when we die, people refer to us as a ‘dead body’. Not a ‘Muslim dead body’ or a ‘Hindu’ or a ‘Christian’, but just a ‘body’. Death indeed is alike for you, for me and for the rest of humankind and unknowingly it unites us all. An allusion of the very same was seen in Mangalore on June 2, 2010.
12 bodies of the victims of the air crash were unidentified. Among them 7 were to be claimed by Muslim families, 3 by Hindu families, 1 by a Sikh and 1 by a Christian family. But the D.N.A. test proved otherwise. None of the bodies matched with the D.N.A. samples collected from their family members.
The hearts and souls which were battered due to the plane crash was permanently ripped apart when they didn`t find the bodies of their loved ones. It was bad enough to lose them without saying a word of love. How do you comprehend to the fact that you won’t be able to pay your last respects to them and have no graves of theirs for remembrance?
‘Life’ and ‘Death’ as we see them, and as people say, are the two faces of the same coin. If the face of life separates us, puts a barrier of religion and rituals, the other face breaks them down, steps over the fence and stands united. And that is the face of death.
The families of the victims of the plane crash and the localites of Mangalore including the police officers, journalists, politicians, social workers and laymen stood together holding hands, ready to lend a shoulder to cry upon when the bodies were being buried. Every family thought about their loved one and they sent their silent farewells and prayers as the bodies were being lowered down. The peaceful scene of burying the deceased clouded everyone`s eyes and nobody really seemed to care if the dead one was or wasn`t one of them. Forgotten were the boundaries of religion and faith because everyone gathered there knew that the plane crash and its aftermath changed the shades and colours of humanity forever. No word of gratitude might have been spoken, no word of sympathy might have been uttered but the pain felt in everyone’s heart and the tears streaming down everyone`s cheeks said more than words put together. Truly actions speak a lot more loudly than words.
More from Asma Ahmed:
* A Tribute to the Lost Lives and the Grieving Souls
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