It was all over the news now. My fears had come true. As
much as I wanted myself to believe that nothing was going to happen, here it
was-the stark reality. I saw the hysteria in the trains and wondered if I
should be considering my options to travel as well. No. I can’t let this
happen. I can’t let rumors get to me.
But that evening, I switched off my computer early and
headed home. Earlier my father had called me up and with the obvious worried
voice he was trying to hide, he had instructed me to head home early. Walking
along the now unintimidating buildings outside my office, I could sense urgency
in my step. “I am scared.”
Frustrated and nervous, I hardly slept that night. The
occasional festive crackers made me sit up and look at the door for sign of
intruders. On the third time, I convinced myself, “Enough is enough. I have
been here five years. I have friends. Nothing will happen.” But as much as it
was true, I wasn’t very sure. I kept the lights on.
First thing in the morning next day, I called up my Mom and
lied, “Everything’s fine.” The way to office was a torture that morning. I was
used to a passer-by taking a moment longer to look at me all these days, all
attributed to my slight difference from the normal crowd. But every stare that
morning made me check for signs. Long beard? Weapons? Taqiyah?
I rushed into the relatively safer premises of my office and
felt a little of the heat go away along with the cool artificial air inside. I
checked into my cabin and opened a news site. It was everywhere by now. Taking
a little assurance from the government’s measures, I kept on a brave face to
greet my colleagues. I guess they could sense the fear in my voice. Involuntary
pats at my back kept me going. I realized how much the number of friends you
have is still less.
“Shouldn’t you go home for some time?” One of my rather
straight-forward friends asked me. I replied casually, “I am not in danger. Not
here in Chennai.” He gave me a rather plastic, reassuring smile.
I can’t go home. Not now. And why should I go home? This is
my home. It’s as much mine as it is for any other citizen. If I am in danger,
the whole country should be in danger. I am not going back.
I was angry. Those running away were justifying the rumors.
We were soft targets. Anybody could write an SMS and drive us out of here. Of
all the unity and brotherhood speeches we have given. Of all the sweat and
hands we have lent, it has come to this.
United we pretend, divided we are.
I haven’t been attacked yet. Even if I do, I won’t go back.
I don’t want to go back carrying sorrow with me, that my fellow citizen had
attacked me. That because people of his religion were attacked somewhere else.
That, he won’t consider being Indian to protect against the Bangladeshi
immigrants is more important than his religion. No, that would be a shame. I
should go back with hope and a smile. That at the other end in this country,
people still expect us back. But not now, not yet.
