Taking a ride in DTC busses, or its more menacing peers the Red Line and Blue Line buses, used to be a nightmare. Any fellow passenger even remotely seen to be a deviant would be greeted with choicest abuses like – “Bihari (with an abusive prefix), kabhi bus nahin dekha kya? (O Bihari, haven’t you seen a bus before?)”
Inside Delhi University campus, which is where I spent four years in the early 1990s, the dominant mood – by no means the majority view I must add – was clearly anti-Bihari.
We, the unfortunate Biharis, were made to believe that we were a blot on otherwise civilised India. The most frequently used slogan in those days was: “If India were to become a developed nation, Bihar should be allowed to secede from it”.
When contested, some seemingly charitable non-Biharis would add more insult by saying, “While Biharis are generally bad, you don’t look like a Bihari”. Deep inside, I knew that I was as much a Bihari as one could get.
When ‘Bihari’ Was Used as an Abuse
The discrimination was not confined to verbal abuses alone. While I was one of the lucky ones to get a seat in one of DU’s hostels, the unlucky ones used to have a tough time finding accommodation in localities closer to the campus. They were asked to give guarantee from non-Biharis. Other than higher rent, they were asked to furnish a ‘good conduct’ certificate or whatever that meant. In other words, life for a Bihari in Delhi during those days used to be tough for reasons we could hardly figure out.
So when I hear or read about instances of open discrimination in the name of religion, caste or region, my thoughts go back to those days when we were at the receiving end of the then prevailing dominant mood. Bihar then stood for everything that could possibly go wrong, and Biharis, by extension, were considered a repository of all evils –uncouth, uncivilised, criminals, abusers and much more.
Muslims Routinely Abused Because of Their Religious Affiliation
Twenty-five years later, Muslims – albeit with difference as charges levelled against them are even more horrifying and hurtful – find themselves in the same situation. From questioning their patriotism to making fun of their dietary habits; from being labelled as obscurantists, to blaming them for all terrorist activities all around the world – Muslims unfortunately are subjected to all. The dominant mood in this case too has scant regard for facts.
The fact that the total number of Jihadi militants the world over is not more than 1.06 lakhs (global Muslim population is close to 1.7 billion), according to a reliable estimate of the CNN, is never considered while painting all Muslims with the same brush.
The dominant mood completely disregards the fact that out of the top 50 most disturbed cities in the world, 43 of them are in Latin America, with insignificant Muslim population, according to a recent Economist report.
Muslim haters must also know that according to the latest European Union report on terror situations in member countries, out of the total 142 “failed, foiled and completed attacks” that were reported in 2016, 13 were jihadist terror attacks. (For a detailed analysis, read: Data Doesn’t Support Islamophobia, But Who’ll Tell the Lynch Mobs?)
Majority Still Believes in Despite My Name
The point I am trying to make is not just about the absurdity of the dominant narrative. But the fact is that it exists and occupies lots of our mind space and therefore needs to be countered. But how do we do it? By selectively highlighting instances of discrimination with a now fashionable hashtag like #NotInMyName? I think this approach has the potential to do more harm than good.
My own experience tells me that for each instance of discrimination faced by me for being a Bihari, I had at least ten instances of people treating me the way I am, despite my surname or the place of my origin.
Each one of us has faced discrimination at some point of time – some because of their surname, many others in the name of religion, and quite a few because of their regional identity. I have had a fair share of them.
What should I do – selectively highlight one bad experience and completely ignore other ten very pleasant ones? The risk involved in highlighting one, even if it hurts us the most, is that we may be unintentionally hurting ten others. Is that the risk worth taking?
Each instance of discrimination must be countered, but with full disclosure that it has been one of many good, bad or ugly experiences. That will help us forge a grand coalition of like-minded people.
The key to such an endeavour should be to establish dialogue with as many people as we can. That is possible only if we are completely transparent and offer full disclosure. It will be a way of acknowledging the efforts of those who support us despite our name.
Postscript: I once got very impressed with a beautiful young lady effortlessly speaking live in front of cameras. Few subsequent interactions with her only reinforced my initial impression. Later on, I got to know her name and hence her religion. Would I have reacted differently if I knew her name and religion in the first place? Quite possible, given the kind of toxic air we breathe in everyday.
Now that I have interacted with her, she comes across as someone who is no different from many intelligent ladies I know. The key here is dialogue, the series of interactions I had. Selectively highlighting Not In My Name, without mentioning Despite My Name, has the potential to impede that dialogue.
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