Just a thought....

“क्या आप हिन्दुस्तान से हैं?” These astounding words are hurled at my face by the sharp-featured and tall bearded man of the J& K stall in Dilli Haat. The entire scenario had a sense of déjà vu about it. It was an impromptu enquiry from the man in question. I stared up at him, into his deep brown eyes, hoping that may be the stare that works on my sons when they get too naughty will manage to cower him too. 

But he stared back, unflinching, unrepentant. Somewhat irritated, I replied, “Yes, I am from Hindustan. But why are you asking me this question? You talk as if you are from some other part of the world. You seem to be from Jammu and Kashmir. Is that not in Hindustan?” I saw the crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes become prominent as he smiled - or was it just a ghost of a smile? He stated, “I am from Kashmir. You speak a different language. So I asked if you were from Hindustan.” When I told him that I am from the state of Assam, he seemed satisfied. Looking at me with some compassion he said, “Oh, so you too belong to one of the uncared for places of Hindustan. And that makes us siblings. I, belonging to a place to which Hindustan has no affinity, and you, coming from a place which is almost an albatross around the nation’s neck. We are brother and sister.” I could not think of anything appropriate to say at that time. I just walked away….

It’s not easy, to comment or conclude on issues like this. Throughout the entire journey back home, one thing was bothering me; he had addressed ‘India’ as ‘Hindustan’, and in my day to day life, I really have not met many people who use this word frequently. As far as my knowledge goes, the name Hindustan was coined after the Sindhu or the Indus river. And the denizens are referred to as ‘Hindustani’ , which ideally should mean an Indian, irrespective of religious affiliation. But why did he choose to stick to the name of yore when the more apt ‘India’ is what the rest of the country uses for our motherland? Or was I exaggerating the whole issue? But then, he said he belonged to Kashmir. Does it mean that he does not have a sense of belonging to this country?

Was he ridiculing me? Was he insecure? Or was it just an ad nauseum response to the questions that he faces on a regular basis – from the people who are not from his state, from the men who have not lived in homes with mirrors cracked by bullets and bomb blasts, from women who have not yet lost her child to unexplained circumstances, or from the river that never had a bank which bathed in blood? I struggled to find the reason – why does he feel alienated? Does the name ‘Hindustan’ appear like a barricaded shelter for the people of a particular religious faith only? Or is it that we have become too insensitive, too cruel towards his insecurities? Or, just maybe, we just do not care.

It may be just that I was unnecessarily speculating over something which was actually nothing. But the nagging question remained nestled in my thoughts. I remembered many situations where ‘chinky’ people like me were considered to be at the edge of things. There were moments when the not-so-sharp features of our people and the heavily accented Hindi made us work harder to make the mainland people believe in our Indianness. Why? Do we really need to do that? Do I have to tell everyone around me that we are not exactly cannibals eager to chew off the enemy’s head?

Why is it that a “galey” wearing Nagamese girl stands out while a ‘Punjabi kudi’ in a phulkaari Patiala salwar goes unnoticed?

What can we do about our flat noses, about our straight hair, about our slanting eyes? Do these make me a ‘non-Indian’?

What can I do if the terrorist outfits have a penchant for the hills of the north-east? What can I say when the green trees of the blue hills of my homeland are nurtured by the red blood of some innocent youth? You know, back home, the river water is not blue. But what can I do?

Do the tears that sting my eyes while watching the profound scenes from a movie like “Rang De Basanti” different from the salty water that streams down the face of people from other parts of the country?

And if these questions are indeed playing in my mind, does this make me an outsider?

Loving the country has never been the issue, I believe. The sense of belonging is the matter at hand. 

I may not be the Kasmiri’s sibling. I may be the man’s sister. I do not know. 
But somehow the question racks my brain, ““क्या आप हिन्दुस्तान से हैं?”. May be I will again think about it when I am compos mentis……..