‘The Muslims are coming... They will kill us’

In this extract from Mothering a Muslim by Nazia Erum, she writes about children and the communal bullying they face for being Muslims. Islamophobia, she says, cuts across class and economics.

Photo by: IndiaPictures/UIG via Getty Images
Photo by: IndiaPictures/UIG via Getty Images
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Nazia Erum

Her terrified scream echoed shrilly in the closed space of the car. They were everywhere, the mass of white-clad bodies. They had surrounded the car from all sides. Most of the faces had long beards and black marks on their foreheads. She had spent many nights imagining the horns that grew on that spot.

They had finally found her too. he felt panic grip her heart, squeezing it tight. Her skin broke into goosebumps. Her short hair was sticky with sweat. She ducked under the back seat of the car, and uttered the words that were choking her throat. ‘The Muslims are coming…They will kill us!’

Arshia Shah and Harris Alvi turned around in surprise to look at their five-year-old daughter, Azania. They couldn’t hold back their laughter. Azania had just started school in a posh South Delhi locality. She knew she was an Indian, but not that she was a Muslim. She knew of Allah. But not that only Muslims believed in Allah. What is a good age to tell a child that she belongs to a particular religion? When does a child begin to associate the sound of a name with a particular religion? These were not questions Arshia and Harris had asked of themselves.

The couple had set out on an extended weekend break to Aligarh with their little girl for the annual visit to the grandparents. Their route took in many small towns that dotted western Uttar Pradesh. It was noon, and the Friday jamaat, prayer congregation, was dispersing from a masjid in one such small town. Th e road was crowded with cars and worshippers who were heading back home. Clad in pearly white kurta-pyjama and skullcaps, they walked and talked happily, with the words of the khutbah, the Friday sermon, still on their minds. Little did they know that inside a hatchback on that road a terrified five-year-old was cowering under the back seat as she screamed again to emphasize the urgency, ‘The Muslims are coming!’

Azania’s parents’ first reaction had been amusement at the irony of a Muslim child cowering in fear of Muslims. They comforted her and told her there was nothing to fear. They urged her to look out of the window and see for herself that none of the men on the road were carrying weapons or seemed angry or had even noticed her. Azania calmed down. Her parents giggled. But underneath the laughter lurked some serious questions. A silence permeated the car for the rest of the trip.

Arshia had no idea from where Azania had picked up the word Muslim and the stereotypes associated with it. Could it be at her playgroup or nursery school? The little girl had clearly internalized that Muslims were violent. How do you tell a five-year-old that she is what she fears?

A buoyant group outside on the road. A bewildered child inside the car. And a set of parents unable to figure out where to start talking about the elephant in the room: Islam.

Not quite knowing how to deal with this, Arshia didn’t talk to Azania during that trip. She wanted to find the right moment for both herself and her daughter. But she didn’t have to wait. Azania found out the truth about herself soon after.

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‘Get away from the ball, you Paki!’

Azania stopped just as she was about to kick the blue-yellow ball with her white canvas shoes and turned indignantly towards the boy from the rival football team. As she stood still in shock, not knowing how to react, he tackled the ball off her.

The little girl slipped fearfully out of the football field of her school, Vasant Valley. The boy was known to be aggressive and competitive. But why had he called her a Paki? She felt confused and didn’t know who to talk to and chose to remain silent.

Excerpts taken with permission from Juggernaut; Pages 220

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