I Was a Hindu, He, a Muslim, and This Story Will Make You Revisit Your Beliefs And Prejudices

I was still in the process of exploring the nooks and corners of Hyderabad. Some, I was familiar with and some were yet to introduce themselves to me. I had just moved from Kolkata to work as an intern in a big media house when I was assigned to cover a music concert at the other end of the city. By the time the concert got over, it was 10:30 PM, which by Indian standards was far past the acceptable hours for a woman to stay out. This, in fact, was that time of the night, when if God forbid any danger befell me, some of our ministers would have assassinated my character first, and drank a glass of water after.

It wasn’t winter, but the night of an unknown city always appears darker to the untrained eyes. The empty roads running across and into each other were tricking me like a maze. I had no one to call for help. The fancy cabs were yet to hit the streets with their promise of 24 hours service. I couldn’t locate a bus or even an auto to take me to the Hi-Tech City area, the only area of Hyderabad that I could map out at the back of my hand.

I fished out the scarf from my bag, the one I used for covering my face against sunlight during the day. But as most of the girls in this part of the city wore hijabs, I decided to wrap the scarf around my face and blend in. At the other end of the street I could locate a gathering; I headed towards it. Little did I know I was pulling the act of a moth drawn towards the flame. The crowd turned out to be a bunch of wasted youngsters preparing for a bike race, and I realized it was too late for me to take a U-turn. They had already begun yapping dirty comments at me. Clearly, I had found myself in a nightmare, and for worse, it was real. My feet froze. ‘The newspapers carry narrations of heinous acts against women every day, am I going to be tomorrow’s news?’ I could hear my heart throbbing inside me, with my breath turning cold, and eyes turning moist as one of the guys scaled towards. But before he could come any closer, another biker sped through the other end of the street and stood like a rock in between. The guy retracted his advancements, and the other making cheap remarked hushed down too.

The biker asked me what I was doing in that infamous neighborhood, I told him I was lost. He asked where I meant to go, I told him, Hi-Tech. He offered me a ride till Gachhibowli, an area within proximity to my rented apartment. I had nowhere to place my trust than on him, yet another stranger. I noticed he wore an “Allah” pendant. I sensed, he figured me out as a Muslim girl. May be because of the scarf through which only my eyes could be seen. The fear in my eyes weren’t searching for any religious shield but I took shelter in his ride. Within 20 minutes I was safely dropped at Hi-Tech city. Before I could even begin thanking him for his kindness, he invited me to his place. He said his mother had cooked amazing vermicelli for Iftar and I should not miss this “once in a lifetime” opportunity of relishing his Ammi’s world famous vermicelli. My guilt couldn’t allow me to stay quiet anymore, I knew there were religious sentiments associated with Iftar. I removed my scraf and confessed, “I am sorry, brother. I kept you in the dark. I am not a Muslim, if that is why you helped me.”

“I knew you are Hindu. Your face was covered, but I saw the Lord Krishna tattoo on your arm. How does that even matter though?” I couldn’t be more relegated for doubting this kind soul’s benevolence. I was too ignorant to comprehend his benignity, too small to stand his stature. The fairness in his intentions was beyond the preachings of any faith.

“So you helped me despite…”

“I lost my sister during the Gujrat Riots. No came to her rescue, no Hindu, no Muslim. By protecting you today, I tried to forfeit the guilt that has been eating me up for not being there for Neeru. We have lost enough sisters already, we can’t afford to lose any more.” He said while tears were shining like diamonds in his clear brown eyes. I can’t tell whether it was the “Allah” pendant or the Krishna tattoo that worked towards placing him at the right location, timed perfectly to ensure my safety. 8 years, and I am still clueless.

As I said, the fear in my eyes weren’t searching for any religious shield; the fairness in his intentions was beyond the preachings of any faith. It was just a little bit of humanity I was looking for, and it was only humanity he had to offer.

By the way, the vermicelli was pure heaven!

(Pic Source - Instagram)

As told to Avantika Debnath