Saffrons and Greens

Seven years ago, an entire state burnt. Seven years ago, a handful of fanatics decided that a certain group of people did not deserve to live. And the rest, as they say, is history. Seven years ago is a long time. Long enough to be written off as ‘history’, isn’t it?

But, somehow, things don’t fit. Fanatics continue to propagate their thoughts. Authorities continue to make tall claims of doing their best to punish those responsible. In the meanwhile, an entire community still continues to live with horrible memories etched in their minds. Some are forced to walk on the streets listening to taunts from those who stabbed their children and raped their mothers and, if they were really lucky, just burned their families to death.

Today, seven long years later, while most of us may not even be aware of what has been happening (neither would I had I not been so passionately involved in making a documentary on the subject), a not-so-minor community waits for “justice” even if it means living right next to those who wreaked such havoc that would change lives forever.

And even then, these people await justice. Maybe its because there is a very thin line between the saffrons and greens and that thin line is called justice…

One year ago, when I set out with a bunch of like-minded people to explore what really went on in the land of Gandhi post 2002, I, like any other journalism student went with the idea of “doing something different”. And even though I had the most unforgettable experience there, one thing that I will always remember is that justice is a relative term.

But, what struck me the most is that despite the cleverly concealed lies, one journalist dared to expose the truth about what really happened. Recovering cellphone records is no easy task, but someone did it just because that someone refused to believe whatever was being fed to them by the government. Today, thanks to those very cellphone records, an entire community has let out a miniscule, almost negligible, sigh of relief.

I wonder then, how many such enquiries, arrests, blame games and diplomatic discussions would it take for another city to breathe easy? Maybe this time, justice would not be so difficult to achieve.

Or maybe its because, for once, the saffrons and greens are on the same side of the firing line.

P.S: this entry is dedicated to those who made my experiences in Gujarat unforgettable. And to the one person in my profession I admire the most.

Valentine's Day

The screaming continued, the abuses got louder and louder every minute. I was so engrossed in those foreign voices that I almost missed it. Valentine's Day had arrived.

As the clock strikes 12 on 13 February every year, most people all over the world hug, kiss and wish each other a "Happy Valentine's Day". But, this year, as I sat up, reading my book , I hadn't noticed it was Valentine's Day until I heard someone hurling a volley of abuses .

Since it was late in the night, the abuses were loud and clear. The noise was coming from this building behind mine. What seemed like a heated argument between a husband and wife made me think that maybe, there was someone in that family who had probably wanted to wish his/her parents on Valentine's Day, but was greeted instead by words he/she had probably never heard.

After the shouting went on for an hour or so, I thought of calling the police - what if the woman who was screaming hysterically was in trouble? But then, something stopped me. As I sat there, the fighting having ceased finally, I thought to myself. Was Valentine's Day really about just one day where one feels happy about having someone special or is it wanting to be with that one person despite everything...