But I decided to examine the plight of a regular, non fundamentalist, educated Muslim. Here is someone who knows since the tender age of 5 that when she's travelling in public transport, she has to travel under a false name, more importantly, a Hindu name. She's accused of being a Pakistani, which at the age of 3 is akin to being called anti national. She's often advised, suggested, threatened to go back to her country (Pakistan and not India, since it is assumed that Muslims ought to be in Pakistan and Hindus alone should be in India).
She went to one of the premier schools in the capital, went on to one of the prominent law schools in the country and when she needed to rent a place to stay in Delhi, she couldn't find one. Well that is until she assumed another false, Hindu name.
As a youngster like one of us, she too enjoys the occasional party, but she's learnt to hold her identity close to her and it takes a while for her to let her guard drop and tell you her religion. If she'd ever tried keeping track of the number of times she's heard the lines "Oh, you dont look Muslim." (Like what is a Mussalman supposed to look like?) or "Really, you drink wine, isn't that anti islam?" or "Hey, I have a lotta Muslim friends." (and that makes you secular because...?????), she'd have aged centuries in a year.
She hates how even the most educated, 'liberal', 'open minded' individuals end up differentiating on the basis of religion and how Prez. Mush. is called a liberal Mussalman only coz he enjoys his whiskey. She is appalled at how years of friendship, relationships and love are forgotten with each successive blast. She wonders how only the Muslims stand out as terrorists and the LTTE, Naxalites, ULFA and billion other organizations who run parallel governments now, are conveniently ignored since they aren't Muslim.
As an educated minority within her own community, she has long accepted that she needs to be the voice of reason, she needs to speak out for her people who cannot articulate their thoughts, their fears, their insecurities. Like the rest of her countrymen, she too hated fundamentalists, of all religions and she completely denounced any acts of terror, carried out in the name of Allah. But of late she knew she'd have to come to terms with the facts that she was fighting a losing battle.
She'd fallen in love with someone, he loved her too. But he was Hindu and she was Muslim. He could see beyond that, but both of them knew that their families would not. They tried for a while, but it was just too painful. Eventually, like every other privilege, he too was snatched away from her, for being Muslim.
She had tried long and hard to be one of the regular, educated, cosmopolitan youths, but each look of suspicion, each denial of her right, each deeper scrutiny of her actions, was worrying her and she was learning to find safety in numbers. She now understood why her ilk sought refuge in ghettoes, where they'd be amongst their own, without being looked at accusingly or suspiciously. She knew she'd never become a fundamentalist, but she couldn't live like this either. That's when she knew she'd have to run away.
She systematically liquidated her assets, closed all accounts, put in her papers at work, served her notice period, sold her car, had one final party at her place where her closest friends still genuinely enjoyed her company and boarded her flight to her freedom.
Her name appeared a week later in the list of dead, after they found her body from under the rubble. She now knew there was no escaping it. She had tried to run to the other end of the world, but somehow had managed to board that very flight that now symbolizes the very basis of what she wanted to escape.
