An open letter to Umar Khalid, who India needs now more than ever

Umar, I remember the time I saw you at the namaaz-e-janaaza (burial) for the Jamia Millia Islamia students killed in the Batla House encounter six years ago. My first natural reaction to seeing you solemnly stand by your father’s side at the burial grounds was: Arrey, commie bhi aa gaya Musalmaano ke beech (a Communist comrade among Muslims). 

Many would raise eyebrows over the mention of Batla House and may have formed their opinions already, but they would never know what it felt like to be a Jamia student or resident in those days. 

You were there, in solidarity. 

That has been you since years, relentlessly raising your voice for those oppressed by the state. You never cared if those at the sharp end of the state’s sword were adivasis, Dalits or minorities; in your Leftist eyes they were all deprived of justice by the state. You went on, day after day, one protest after another, dissecting arguments in public meetings, leading with thunder.

And so, it has become increasingly difficult to make sense of the events of the past few days. You were just one of the people behind the Afzal show that has jolted Indians into questioning their loyalty towards the country. 

But it was just another day for you, speaking up against a hanging forced forward by my countrymen’s “collective conscience”. 

Clashes follow protests, primetime anchors pop steroids, newspaper splashes go berserk on corporate-funded ink. Within two days, you are branded a jihadi. 

And why shouldn’t you be? How dare you question the state’s oppressive tactics when you know that the state can easily justify all of it by using the sweet alibi of army men dying in Siachen. 

Do you know what that means Umar?

It means that you are in danger because the state is brute and drunk on mass hysteria like never before. Standing strong on its four pillars, it today seeks to destroy you and everything you have ever stood up for. 

They might go easy on Kanhaiya Kumar, but you, you have landed up in real trouble boy. They won’t forget you because your identity and the slogans raised at the February 11 event just serve as a perfect glass for the heady cocktail being served to the republic right now. 

“Bharat tere tukde honge, Inshallah Inshallah”, Umar Khalid, the anti-national whose father is affiliated to Muslim organisations, a PhD scholar visiting suspicious areas like Chhattisgarh, India’s most wanted terrorists supporting the Afzal show from across the border, your love for the K-word — it all adds up to that cocktail, right? 

We all love it. Well, most of us do!

And indeed, most of us do not realise that some of us feel differently about things. Hey, come on now, no one is going to question the Supreme Court: it’s the word of God. We do not want to know Afzal Guru’s history as a militant (or ex-militant, is that even a term? Nothing like — once a militant, always a militant? How depressing!), but we are sure that he had to be sent to the docks without knowing the devil in the details. 

We also do not think that those at the lowest rung of India’s self-proclaimed ladder to becoming the global economic powerhouse are being exploited in the name of development. We sure as hell do not think that Kashmir is not an integral part of India and there is a historical pact that the country needs to honour. 

Nor did we find the incident involving Manipuri women stripping off to protest AFSPA’s unjust power — used to protect Mother India’s sovereignty — offensive. 

All’s been perfect in our India. But have you popped LSD? Ask too many questions, and we will lynch you. We will threaten your 12-year-old sister and we will scan through your father’s history to find ways to malign you. We will hit you left, right and centre. We are India, exemplifying multiculturalism on the world map.

Coming back to first person singular, this is not my idea of India because my country needs you. It needs your dissent. It needs your energy to ensure that nobody forgets the most oppressed. 

You are radical, true. And that makes it all the more important for your voice to stand out. I am sure you are not the only one who thinks that way. Some of your peers may disagree with you on various issues, but some may think alike. 

If there could be a survey on how many countrymen think such voices are anti-national and should be muzzled, there would be hundreds and thousands who would vote against the motion. 

Oh, I forgot that a channel is already through with that survey. The nation has already voted, am sure the channel’s competitors agree in their editorial meetings.

Umar, I still see hope that the four pillars of democracy, will stand strong for justice. And people like you, minority only by opinion, will be able to make the other side of the story heard despite the first-past-the-post system.

They are all debating whether these students should be behind bars or should they continue to study on “subsidized” facilities. 

Stuck in grandfather’s paradox, I think the more important questions have been lost. 

Can creative spaces like universities not question any of the state’s actions? Why should Afzal Guru’s hanging be a taboo subject? Why should India allow its politicians to easily turn dissenting students into terror sympathisers? Who is getting terrorised, the state? 

Why should I be a part of the system that gets the heebie-jeebies over dissent expressed through debate? Is dissent expressed Patiala House court style more like the India that Ambedkar dreamt of?

While posters in the city call for your death, I wait for the day you come back. I hope how they put your family under a trial — only for your name — doesn’t make you lose your spark, like one Rohith Vemula, “whose circumstances led to his death and no one was to be ever blamed for it”. 

Till the time it happens, all of us anti-nationals will continue to stand together. Not because we have the same opinions, but because they are all different and hence, need to be protected. 

The way your name has been smeared has brought back the sense of alienation and persecution felt by many in the aftermath of the Batla House encounter, and the post 9/11 witch-hunt against many families, whose members were associated with Muslim organisations. 

I am shocked that people like me and you, no matter how much detached or attached we are from our religion, no matter how liberal we become, no matter which road we take, the establishment can still come back to remind us of our Muslim identity, not in the most pleasant of ways, leaving a lingering sour aftertaste. 

I only have one last question for my fellow Indians. How will you remember Umar Khalid after all this is over? As a jihadi traitor or a bright scholar who chooses to fight for India’s weak every day of his life when he can easily aspire for the other route — the one with the exotic holidays, plush apartments and snazzy SUVs?

Oh by the way Umar, do tell me about your trip to Pakistan once the dust settles down and you come back from your anti-national hideout; I have heard Mozzie women there are quite beautiful!