India is a land defined by its staggering religious and cultural diversity. Historically, this pluralism was the bedrock of a mostly cordial coexistence between Hindus and Muslims. However, the British "divide and rule" policy expertly exploited these identities, sowing seeds of discord that were later nurtured by communal streams like the Muslim League and the Hindu Mahasabha-RSS.
This manufactured animosity eventually culminated in the tragedy of Partition and the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi—the apostle of peace—who was murdered for his refusal to abandon the principle of Hindu-Muslim amity.
While Pakistan’s descent into communalism hindered its democratic and economic progress, India, under the secular leadership of Jawaharlal Nehru, spent its first five decades building a modern, inclusive state. However, recent decades have seen a resurgence of communal forces intent on dismantling this legacy. The systematic manufacture of "hate" has become a primary tool for political consolidation.
The Language of Exclusion
In the quest to transform a pluralistic democracy into a sectarian state, new vocabularies of prejudice have entered the mainstream. Terms like "Love Jihad," "Land Jihad," and "Corona Jihad" have moved from the fringes of social media to the center of social "common sense."
Today, the rhetoric has reached a fever pitch. Top leadership now employs slogans like “Batenge to Katenge” (Divided we will be slaughtered) and “Ek hain to safe hain” (United we are safe), while making derogatory remarks about identifying "rioters" by their clothes. In Assam, Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma has targeted the "Miya" community (Bengali-speaking Muslims) with unprecedented vitriol. His recent statements suggesting that Miyas be removed from electoral rolls—and his reported instigation of the public to harass them in daily transactions—mark a dangerous low in public discourse.
When human rights activist Harsh Mander filed a petition against such hate speech, seeking accountability under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, the state’s response was not introspection, but a threat to file multiple FIRs against Mander himself.
The Defiance of Mohammad Deepak
In this climate of deepening polarization, where the syncretic traditions of figures like Azan Peer and Shankar Dev seem like distant memories, it is easy to succumb to despondency. Yet, hope often flickers in the most unexpected places.
In Kotdwar, Uttarakhand, an elderly Muslim man who has operated a shop called "Baba School Dress" for 30 years was recently accosted by Bajrang Dal activists. Their grievance? The use of the word "Baba," which they claimed was exclusive to Hindu figures. As the mob grew, a local man named Deepak Kumar intervened.
In a moment of profound symbolic defiance, Deepak identified himself as "Mohammad Deepak." It was an instinctive act of solidarity meant to confuse the attackers and protect the victim.
The aftermath was a stark reflection of the current era: the police, acting as mute spectators during the harassment, filed an FIR against Deepak and his friend, while the FIR against the Bajrang Dal activists was filed against "unknown persons."
The Shop of Love
Deepak’s act of humanism earned him praise from Leader of the Opposition Rahul Gandhi, who called him a "living symbol of a shop of love in the marketplace of hate." Deepak’s own explanation was even more poignant:
"I thought they would understand that I am Hindu, and that the situation, which was getting heated, would calm down. But instead, an FIR has now been filed against me."
Deepak Kumar’s intervention is more than just a brave deed; it is a reminder of the "true idea of India"—a country where identity is not a wall, but a bridge. While the machinery of hate works to segregate and dehumanize, individuals like Harsh Mander and "Mohammad Deepak" prove that the spirit of fraternity, though embattled, remains unbroken.
For India to survive as a democracy, the courage of the "Mohammad Deepaks" must once again become the norm, rather than the exception.
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