Love Jihad

Stealthily she tiptoed into the police station with a duplicate key in her fist. Her scooter was seized yesterday from a no-parking zone. It was a warm afternoon and the parking lot of the police station was barren, except for a few stray dogs that stood itching and wandering in uneasiness. She kept advancing ahead in slow steps, looking back and forth for anyone’s presence. There was no one around. Taking the liberty, she rode away in her scooter, stealing it from the police premises. But as she moved out of the main gate, she heard a shout behind her, a call to stop. Hearing the voice her face turned red and she trembled. There was a boy entering the police station with a bundle of papers in his hands. He tried to stop her on the cop’s call, but she didn’t care to stop. In that short moment she had shared a glimpse of guilt and pride with him that was undeniable of her theft and daring. It was barely a two second long stare into his eyes, in which she asked him to be on her side. Then as she took the main road and accelerated off, she turned back at him for one last assurance, only to find him watching her with an awestruck face.

Later that evening was when they met again and it actually began.

It was a 500 rupees dare that she had won against her friends and she was celebrating it in a coffee shop. The same boy walked in there, and sat two tables across her. They noticed each other when she got up to fetch her order. Her face turned red. There seemed no escaping now, and she smiled in guilt of being caught once again. He soothed her anxiousness and smiled back at her. Until the end of her meals she kept staring him and wandering about the aftermath of her theft. As she got up to leave the café, she went up to him and asked him in a slow voice, “What happened there after I escaped?”

“They asked me to tell them about you.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, I didn’t see your face.”

“Was that all they asked for?”

“Yes, but several times. It took me half an hour to convince them.”

“And then…?”

“Then they got into some paper and wireless radio work, which seemed threatening.”

“I am 16. Probably I’ll escape on accounts of being a minor.”

She smiled at him once again, relieved on knowing that he had been on his side. But deep inside she was worried of any consequences that might follow.

“Where is the scooter now?”

“Parked outside.”

“You shouldn’t be riding it at least for a month.”

 “I can-not take it back home; what if they come searching?”

“You should have thought this before stealing it.”

“I told you I am a minor. I have more guts but less brains than you.”

“I wish you good luck then,” saying this he got up from the table and started moving out of the shop. 

She followed him in silence.

“Can you not keep it at your place? They wouldn’t come over to your place.”

“I am 21 ma’am. Probably the minor tag doesn’t work for me.”

“Just for a month, hide it somewhere in your garage or friend’s place. And no one would know.”

“A month in my calendar has thirty days and thirty nights.”

“Today is the first of February, and this has only twenty-eight days and twenty-eight nights.”

For him it didn’t seem as if it was their first meeting, she was so convincing and not willing to give up any how. She looked into his face, squinting and broadening her eyes in pleadings and requests. In between she would twitch her nose and converge her eyebrows. For anything he said, or would attempt to say she had a waiting reply. The unlawful and illegal discussion continued for some fifteen minutes, until they agreed without knowing each other’s name. In the course of their discussion, apart from their names they had shared a lot of things. She had told him of her ongoing board preparations and tuition, her schedule and address. He told her about his engagement in his uncle’s business in the adjoining city, and about his only presence here on Thursdays and Sundays. Finally as they parted, they agreed to meet again next Thursday at the same place.

v   

As she walked back home, she thought of how inappropriate it all was. She wondered what would she tell at home, if her father inquired about the scooter. She rehearsed answers replying that it was still in the police custody. But what if the cops come at home? Or what if they inquire about the theft? Amidst these thoughts she recalled the boy’s innocent face and smile at the incident. She walked back home smiling to his memories, and her own convincing abilities. Deep within somewhere, she was also worried about him. She was concerned for him to not get into any trouble.

Her elder brother was the first person at home to inquire her about the scooter. She told him that it had been confiscated from a no-parking zone. In a few minutes he brought out the vehicle’s registration papers and asked her to accompany him to the police station to get the scooter back. She was fear-struck and speechless. Only to fail after trying all tricks to stop him from going, she finally told him that she had parked it at a friend’s place following the theft. Hearing it he turned furious, but later calmed down to hide the matter from their father’s knowledge. The secret lay well dug between the two on accounts of the assurances that she had given him. She only hoped for the matter to not reach their father’s ears and no policemen to visit their place.

That Saturday, on her way to the Durga temple she bought a hundred rupee offering basket of flowers and coconut. Usually she took only a few flowers and sweets. Today, she had intentions to bribe the goddess of power. She banged the coconut on the stairs and offered its water on the idol. She prayed for things to settle soon. She prayed for the cops to not come home. She prayed for her father to not know about it. And unknowingly she prayed for the boy’s safety too. As she opened her eyes following the last thought, she had a little smile on her face. She could see his innocent face floating before her eyes, when he had finally agreed to her proposal.

Every day thereafter she thought of him, in joys of those sweet memories and worries of his well-being. Days passed in quick succession and she awaited him to reach the café. She had come an hour early than that day. Her eyes scanned every person who entered the shop. He came at five pm. She had a wide stretched smile on her face as she saw him walk into the café. He smiled back at her with the same warmth. They took a window side table and began their much awaited discussion. From his face it seemed as if he too had been badly waiting for the Wednesday to pass by quickly.

She began by enquiring if everything was fine. He told her that the scooter was parked out of sight and no one knew about it. Then all of a sudden in the middle of their discussion she recalled of their unknown identities and interrupted by introducing herself.

“Gayatri Tiwari.”

“Syed Ahmad.”

His introduction followed a brief pause, with an approaching frown on her face.

“Here are your keys,” he said cutting the silence between them.

“Keep them with you for the time being. I’ll take them back with the scooter,” she replied in her normal self.

“Let’s go out for a little walk,” he suggested. She stood up from her chair and they took the road between the mosque and the temple.

Reluctantly and hesitantly they walked about, she with her hands tied behind her, and he with his hands in his front pockets. He enquired about her board preparations and her tuitions. They discussed Science and English, cricket and novels. She took deep observations of his manners and talks. He was a gentleman, polite and soft-spoken. With every minute that she passed with him, she felt more comfortable with him. He too seemed to get off his uneasiness as time ticked away. She told him about her family, about her brother, and her father. They walked up to the farther end of the road till they reached the community park and settled on the benches. They sat there for an hour, talking of everything that they could possibly think of.

It was getting dark, and never before had she been out with anyone for so long and so alone. A few hours ago if she would have thought of putting herself in this situation, she would have felt uncomfortable and fearful. But right now she didn’t want it to end. There was little that she had now to talk about, but even the silence backed with the horns of vehicles and the barks of the dogs didn’t seem unpleasant to her.

The speakers of the mosque suddenly echoed with the evening prayers and he opened his palms in the state of praying. She observed him without a blink. He repeated the verses and opened his eyes after a short prayer.

“Is that a prayer?” she enquired.

“It is the Magrib namaaz, the fourth namaaz of the day,” he said wiping his face with his palms.

“How many namaaz do you offer in a day?”

“Five.”

“Even my parents offer two prayers a day, but I sometimes skip,” she said smilingly.

“Prayers are necessary. It makes you a good human being. It teaches us to be compassionate and generous towards each-other, to be fearful of our misdeeds and most importantly be thankful of our possessions. You should not skip your prayers,” he said looking into her eyes.

She looked into his eyes and smiled. She smiled for the joy of being with him. She smiled for her encounter with him. She smiled for the Margib namaaz to have taken place in their presence.

“It’s late, I should leave,” she said looking at her watch.

He stood up in acceptance and offered to walk her back up to the café. On her way back they exchanged their contact numbers and decided to meet again next Thursday. Gayatri walked back, in thoughts mixed with joy. She walked back with a sprout in her heart.

She met him week after week, more devotedly and fearlessly, until one day her brother spotted her with him on the stairs of the mosque. He sent Gayatri back home and himself stayed back to talk to Syed. He returned home late night in torn clothes and a bleeding face. Gayatri had been waiting to hear from Syed, but his phone was switched off. Seeing his brother’s state worried her even more.

Days passed and there was no news of Syed, until the next Thursday morning when Gayatri received a message form him reading- “Same place. Same time.” She immediately tried his phone, but it was again switched off.  That evening she went early and waited by the mosque.

v   

Gayatri and Syed didn’t mean to fall in love. But love happens when you least expect it. It creeps up suddenly. When someone needs attention, care, conversation, laughter and may be even intimacy. Love doesn’t look at logic, or at backgrounds and least of all, religion.

Gayatri was from a very conservative South Indian family that went to a temple every Saturday. Syed brought goats for his family every Eid. That said it all. Their paths would never have crossed if it hadn’t been for that fateful day. That day when he walked into the coffee shop. Gayatri wondered if destiny chose our loved ones for us. Did we have any role to play at all?

She looked at her watch. Syed was late. They met every Thursday at five pm to catch up. Their conversation lasted for hours. Sometimes at the café, sometimes in his car, sometimes in places that she could never tell her friends about. They would never understand. And yet Syed made her happy.

Suddenly her phone beeped. He had sent a message. “On my way. Have something important to tell you.”

Gayatri stared at it and realized she had knots in her stomach. Thoughts flooded in her mind. What did he want to tell her?

She recalled of her brother’s returning back in torn clothes and bleeding state last Thursday. She was in a pool of thoughts when she saw Syed coming towards her. He was running and seemed scared. Seeing him in that state worried Gayatri even more.

“We aren’t safe here Gayatri.”

“What happened?”

“Things got serious in this while. I had been jailed for three days on accounts of stealing your scooter and misguiding you into a love trap. They call it Love Jihad. It has resulted in feuds and aggression with people searching us both. Some want us hanged, some want us burned, some want us shot.”

“But why us? What wrong have we done?”

“There are no answers to these questions Gayatri.”

“But how did it start?”

“That night your brother got into a quarrel with me. Later in his anger he also disrespected the Imam and got into a fight with a few local people. Then people gathered from both sides and it turned serious.”

“How can we settle it Syed?”

“It can’t be settled Gayati. The mob doesn’t want to hear us, they just want to find us. I’ve come here to say my last bye to you. I do not want to lose you. Do remember that I have loved every moment spent with you, and I wish we could stay side by side forever. Keep this key, they took your scooter back to the police station. And please go away,” saying this he gestured her to return back.

Gayatri’s eyes remained fixed on him until she disappeared behind the wall. There was so much that she wanted to say to him, there was so much that she wanted to hear from him. But it all ended in flash, just like it had happened in a flash. The mosque speakers echoed to announce the Margib namaz.

“There she is, his sister,” said someone from behind her.

As she turned to the approaching noise, a pelted stone landed on her forehead. There was a bright flash of light and in it she saw Syed saying, “Prayers are necessary. It makes you a good human being. It teaches us to be compassionate and generous towards each-other, to be fearful of...”