Quiet riot in Naupada

    On 11 July 2006, seven bomb blasts erupted across Bombay's suburban railway, the city's lifeline, killing 200 people. The blasts reminded the world of India's continuing battle with Islamic militancy. A look at the events of subsequent months, however, highlights the impact the blasts have had on the city's Muslim population.   The second detonation on 11 July took place on a track overlooking the predominantly Muslim neighbourhood of Naupada, in Bandra. This explosion ripped the train compartment open in a shower of blood and limbs. Shocked residents rushed to the scene to help, carrying the dead and injured from the wreckage. People tore the clothing off of their own backs, grabbed their shawls, their lungis and the covers from their beds as they scrambled to stem the flow of blood. Over the following weeks, having zeroed in on Islamic militant group Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT) as its main suspect, police picked up 70 men from Naupada. Resident Liyakat Sheikh says wryly, "One moment we were saving lives; the next we were accused of taking life."   In the aftermath of the blasts, Bombay's Muslims feared a violent reprisal from the majority community, one that would mirror the riots that took place in the city from December 1992 through January 1993. That violence followed the destruction of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya by a mob of Hindu fundamentalists. The riots killed over 1000 people, and demarcated Bombay's neighbourhoods and residents on religious lines. Just a few months later, on 12 March 1993, 15 serial explosions, masterminded by members of the underworld and Islamic militant groups, struck the city's most famous landmarks, including the Bombay Stock Exchange, killing 257 people. The blasts were believed to be payback for the demolition.   It is not surprising, then, that post-July, Bombay's Muslim community was tense and on guard. But when the reprisal came, it was not violent – at least not physically so. There have been no riots, no killings. But the Muslim community is instead being subtly reminded that they practice the same religion as the members of Lashkar-e-Toiba. In a sophisticated backlash, they are being made to pay for the sins of LeT through loss of income, police and public harassment, and a curdling of employment opportunities. Says Ram Puniyani of the group EKTA, which works for communal harmony: "The blasts confirmed for many the popular psychology that to be a Muslim is to be a terrorist."   Passive-aggressive polarisation
While stray incidents of violence have been reported since mid-July, community leaders and police have worked to prevent public flare-ups. Yasmin Ali Shaikh of the Mohalla Committee Movement Trust says, "We put up signboards in sensitive neighbourhoods, saying Do not get provoked. We immediately organised dialogue between the two communities." Many of the city's Muslims are restricted to Muslim-majority areas like Naupada and Nagpada, where they work as daily wage labourers or own small businesses. The loss of even a single day's work can have a significant impact. Yunus Khan, a newspaper vendor in Naupada, says, "Our houses aren't stocked with rations. If we don't go to work one day, we don't eat the next." Mohammed Taj Qureishi, a tailor in central Bombay's Nagpada, has seen his earnings plummet by 50 percent. "More than half our customers are non-Muslim," he explains. "After the blast they stopped entering Muslim neighbourhoods. Mothers tell their daughters 'There are other tailors.'"   Maulana Sayyed Akhtar, of the Madarsa Minara Masjid on bustling Mohammed Ali Road, sums up the situation: "When people are afraid they migrate, leaving behind their businesses, however profitable." He adds, "Ultimately, that impacts taxes and the government's revenue." Akhtar says that after the 1992-93 riots, two lakh Muslims – at the time 17 percent of the city's population – left their jobs and schools, and returned to their villages. "Mobs armed with lists of addresses identifying Muslim residences systematically went through neighbourhoods and attacked their victims. We didn't know where other Muslims lived, but they knew every detail. So, of course, people fled. Tailors, bakers, street-side
vendors – all gone."   This July, the city returned to work the day after the blasts, and the immediate economic repercussions were limited. But a fear of – and a separation from – the Muslim community blossomed. Some Hindu housing societies banned Muslim tenants. There have been two reported incidents of Muslim men being beaten up and thrown out of moving trains. The jeers of Go back to Pakistan! are more frequent. On the broken walls that surround one impoverished Muslim neighbourhood, someone has plastered new posters exclaiming in Hindi: This is a Hindu nation! Mohammed Nizwan, a garment exporter from Naupada, can only laugh bitterly: "I don't even have a passport!"   Some Muslims, like Nizwan, blame the police for not stemming the current spurt in anti-Muslim propaganda. He recalls the words of a police inspector during the 1992-93 riots: "'When I'm in uniform, I'm a policeman. When I'm in plainclothes I'm a Shiv Sainik,'" referring to the Hindu nationalist political party famous for its anti-Muslim rhetoric. Others, like Akram Qureishi, find comfort in publicly condemning the terror groups that perpetrate such acts. "Terrorists have no religion but the religion of bloodshed," he says, to encouraging nods from his group of young friends. "They should be punished in the harshest possible way."   Anti-Muslim reactions are not new to the community. Activist Khatoon A G Shaikh, of the Mahila Mandal Federation, works with the Muslim women of Naupada. She says one of her greatest struggles is ensuring that the women receive their voter's identity cards on time. "Being Muslim, women, and illiterate, they are the last priority," she says. "They have no vote in who will represent them in the government. They are silenced at every step." Muslim men in the area complain of interminable delays vis-à-vis travel documents and other paperwork. "Our name gives us away," Akram Qureishi sighs. Local tailor Farhan Sheikh says that, during festivals, "Policemen enter the neighbourhood and prevent us from the ritual of slaughtering goats. Do we enter Hindu neighbourhoods and prevent families from celebrating Diwali?"   Fear psychosis
Still, many Muslims who lived through the dark days of the 1992-93 riots are comforted by Bombay's response to the 2006 blasts. "One thing the communities share is our distrust of politicians," says Akram Qureishi. "There is the understanding that they manipulate the public for their own benefit. The other factor responsible for this relatively calm response is the fact that we've gotten used to bomb blasts. It's happened before. And sitting at home from work, or harassing other people, is not going to put food on anyone's plate, whether that person is Muslim or Hindu."   Nevertheless, suspicion of the Muslim community now has a sharper edge. One reason is that the net is wider now; the blast suspects are not uneducated youth but include a businessman, a computer engineer and a commerce graduate. Muslim leaders fear this will impact the employment opportunities of educated youth, exacerbating the economic downslide of the community. "Muslims are feeling vulnerable. They are suffering heightened fear psychosis. Over the years this will increase the sense of alienation of young Muslims from the mainstream," says Puniyani.     Feroze Ashraf tutors 400 Muslim postgraduate students every day from suburban Bombay's Jogeshwari and Juhu slums. Every one of them was present for class the day after the bombings. Ashraf credits this surprising attendance record, among other things, to the realisation that, now more than ever, there is a need for Muslim youth to secure their future. "Every time members of our community are involved in a terror attack it impedes our efforts to take our children forward," he sighs. "It's just another problem for us."   In Bombay 2006, young Muslim men with or without criminal records are routinely picked up for questioning – during religious festivals, even when terror attacks have occurred elsewhere in the country. "They stop boys without explaining why and ask them their names, where they're going, where they're from, what their father does," says Yasmin Ali Shaikh. "They search their bags, abuse them in the vilest language. Even if a boy isn't a criminal, if he's repeatedly arrested he will come into contact with criminals and become one. The police made criminals of many young boys after the riots of 1992-93." This summer, Bombay did not erupt into communal riots, perhaps indicating that the city has learned from its past. But hostility is finding other means of release, manifesting itself in insidious ways that, too, damage the Muslim community's well being. Paranoia, prejudice and stereotypes have gained muscle. And it is in this way that terror groups, who thrive on carnage, ensure that the negative impact of their actions continues long after their victims have been carried away, and the tears shed for them have dried up.