When I joined St. Xavier’s Collegiate School in Calcutta in 1967, for reasons I cannot fathom, my closest friend for the next few years was Syed Wasif Ali Mirza. I didn’t know, realise or care that he was a Muslim. It’s a regret that our paths have not crossed for decades and I need to rectify that. My brother JP, meanwhile, also had, as one of his closest friends, Abu Shafquat. JP and Abu are still in touch and meet each other often. Neither cares about the religion of the other, neither has ever cared. The only driver that we had in all the years that I lived in Calcutta was a lovely rogue called Iran Khan. My father trusted him with shuttling the family around the city – and the family included many women. My grandmother, my mother, my three sisters, my aunt and my cousin. We didn’t know, realise or care that IK, as we called him, was a Muslim. When I was 8, we moved to a new house. The first person to ring the bell in the morning was the bread wallah, delivering freshly baked loaves to our house at 5.30 am. I would open the door, and watch, fascinatedly, as he sliced the bread in front of me. Confident strokes that resulted in the thinnest of slices, making the tastiest slices of toast. He had all the trappings of a Muslim; long beard, a skull cap, and so on. . I didn’t know, realise or care that he was a Muslim. My oldest friend who remains a friend, Sanjay Kapoor (who I have been in close touch with since 1969) had a driver called Shahnoon. Shahnoon has been with Shashi aunty (Sanjay’s mother) since the early 1970s. She didn’t know, realise or care that he was a Muslim. Shahnoon is still Shashi aunty’s driver. Shahnoon is family. And Shahnoon is the point of this post. Shahnoon hailed from Muzaffarpur in Bihar, famous for Shahi Lychees. Each year, when Shahnoon came back from his annual holiday (which Shashi auntie and Naren(dra) uncle were so generous about) he would bring back luscious lychees for all of us to relish. None of us thought that the lychees were ‘Muslim’. For a few years, Sanjay and I were tasked by our parents to do the weekly vegetable and fruit shopping at New Market, a few kilometres from home. It didn’t take Einstein-ian intelligence to figure out that all the vegetable vendors were Hindus and the fruit vendors were Muslim. It didn’t matter; we enjoyed bargaining and buying and they (I believe) enjoyed selling to us. There was no religion in the interaction. India changed – and Indians became increasingly aware of religion – and chose relationships, friends and enemies based on these relationships. Hindus and Muslims grew wary of each other – and distant, to use a mild word, from each other. What happens to the lychees that Shahnoon brought back from Muzaffarpur? What if the Kapoors and the Rangaswamis refused Shahnoon’s offering of lychees grown in his village? What if there was no more the Syed Wasif Ali Mirza being a friend of Anant’s; no more Abu being a friend of JP’s; no more IK being a driver to the Rangaswamis; no more Shahnoon being a driver to the Kapoors? That would be a travesty that is impossible, for me, to fathom. Politicians of all hue have divided us into vote banks that they can tap into, leading to the tragedies that we see in all corners of India – and all corners of the world. That’s why Charlie Hebdo disturbs me intensely. If politicians continue to divide society, I wouldn’t remember Syed Wasif Ali Mirza. JP and Abu would not make great efforts to meet regularly. Shahnoon would not still be Shashi aunty’s driver. And, each time I see a lychee, I would not think of Shahnoon with fondness, as I have done from the day Shahnoon first brought back lychees after a holiday in Muzaffarpur.
Posted on: Fri, 09 Jan 2015 16:41:17 +0000
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