The Religious Peeps

The other day, I had to go see the owners of my flat to pay my rent. I also had to make complaints about a few things not working in the house – a plug in the kitchen, the bathroom light, the bedroom fan… The good landlords assured me they will send an electrician in the evening and then all full of consideration and concern for me asked– “Do you have problems if a Muslim enters your kitchen?”

I took a few seconds to register the question before I burst out laughing. While shaking my whole body in all directions with convulsive laughter I managed to shake my head sideways and say – ‘No, there is no problem.’ The elderly couple waited for my epilepsy to subside and said with hurt sensibility – “We have no problems either. We let them enter the kitchen.” (In the same tone that whites say, ‘I am not a racist. Some of my best friends are black.)

I called up all my friends to tell the story and everyone laughed almost as hard as me. Some of course laughed harder. One Muslim-phile (he is trying to be an expert on Kashmiri Muslims and thinks he is Muslims’ best friend) however said that this was a very democratic question. At least I was asked if I had problems. Most Hindu’s in India would assume that I would have a problem and hence would never send a Muslim to fix things in my kitchen. I do not know much about Indians or Hindus. I have luckily managed to escape them in marijuana induced sufi-fakir-baul sentiments in the past 20 years of my adult life. As you know Marijuana causes memory loss and I am only too grateful for that.

But the incident did remind me of a few Muslim stories...

In South-Africa my friends Dina and Moxa (names changed just for kicks. Might get me kicks from them for changing their names) went to a white school. Dina is (I think) a Christian and a Hindu and Moxa (may be) half Muslim by her grand mother’s birth and Christian. Both of them are Indians. In the white school that they went to, Muslim students would get an hour or so off on Fridays to say their prayers. So every Friday religiously Dina and Moxa would skip classes after lunch to go and smoke up behind the prayer room with other ‘Muslim’ girls. One day they were all talking about sex and drugs sitting in a circle during the prayer break and a teacher walked in. They all folded their palms the Muslim way and said some gibberish, looking like they are deep in prayer. The white teacher, who of course had no clue that Muslims and Indians can be different identities, respectfully left them to their religious ritual. Makes me wish we had off periods for saying prayers too… I would have converted to any (actually many) religion, to skip class and smoke up behind the prayer room.

The other favourite story involves my idiotic brother and Muslim cousin. I have a set of cousins who are Muslims. My uncle married my aunt and converted in to Islam, giving us the pleasure of pualo and korma on Id in the family.

One day my brother and cousin went for a hair cut. When they came back, my brother was looking sullen and my cousin laughing his hems apart.
My brother says – ‘You know that idiot Mridul?’
I say – ‘What happened?’ My cousin in the meantime is about to kill himself by not giving his lungs enough time to take in air.
My brother – “You know how boys always talk about Muslims, Muslims are like this, like that? When we were in the salon, Mridul walked in and started swearing at this other guy we know.”
More eardrum breaking shrieks of laughter from my cousin.
My brother says – “He was saying –‘that bloody Muslim guy. All Muslims are like that (followed by swear words)”.
Brother continues – “You know I had Saz (our cousin) sitting next to me. I felt very awkward. So I said – 'why are you swearing at Muslims? Not all Muslims are the same. Don’t you know what Jesus Christ said? He said – hate the sin, not the sinner'.”
At which point Saz burst out laughing and Mridul the swearer told my brother – “I think you have lost your mind”, gave him a dirty look and walked away using the same swear words on him that were used on Muslims before.”

The story became quite a legend in our family to my brother’s embarrassment.

My other favourite Muslim story is about a Brahmin friend’s family. Her parents are very proud to be Brahmin and truly believe that Brahmins are a superior race. They also believe that it is a duty of every Brahmin to preserve this superiority by mating only with Brahmins. Naturally they threw a fit when they came to know that their daughter was seeing a non-Brahmin boy. The boy was a brilliant student, on his way to become a successful professional and a very nice person. After months of psycho-drama she eloped with her boyfriend. They got married in Delhi, started a new life together and are living happily ever after now…

Her parents have accepted her marriage and are ok with it although that has left a deep scar in their hearts, their inflated egos and their fragile social faces. There is a deep sense of resignation as if accepting a loss knowing it is inevitable in life anyway. Naturally her younger brother has been under tremendous pressure to do the right thing. Their daughter has disappointed them, so as the only son, he now had the responsibility of bringing back their lost honour by marrying a Brahmin girl.

And the other day I got a frantic call from my friend… the son fell in love and has married a Muslim girl. Makes me love the world and believe in poetic justice again…

I have many more Muslim stories. In fact I have many more stories. But I am ending today with a translation of this beautiful Bengali song by this band from Bangladesh called Bangla. My favourite singer Anushe sang it.

Emon Manab Samaj Kobe Go Srijon Hobe – When will a humane society be created
Jethai Hindu, Musolman ----- Where Hindu and Muslim
Boudhdho, Kristan ------------- Budhdhist and Christians
Jati, Dhormo ----------------- Nationality (?) and Religion
Nahi Robe …. ------------------------- Will not be there….