The Reality Laid Bare
Al-Risala (English), May 1989, p. 16
By Maulana Wahiduddin Khan
Maulana Wahiduddin Khan is named as the default author of the periodical; a piece that carries another writer’s byline is credited to that writer.
The Reality Laid Bare
1989 5 May 16-23 The Reality Laid Bare (3227) The movement to recover the Babri Masjid, which was to climax the ‘Ayodhya March’ certainly began with a bang, but ended, pathetically enough, in a whimper. Leaders who had posed as saviours of the community ended up like so many burst balloons. It is fortunate that that is the only sense in which tragedy struck, for the Muslim ‘millions’ who were supposed to swell the ranks of the marchers had had the common sense to drop out even before the day of the march. In this way, they escaped the evil consequences of their ‘leaders’ wish to send them like so many animals to the slaughter, purely for the sake of their own honour and glory.
The controversy over the Babri Masjid is nothing new. It dates right back to pre-partition days. It was as recently as 1987, however, that the struggle for its recovery, which had hitherto been peaceful, now assumed an agitational character. Self-styled Muslim leaders first gave the call to battle by announcing a boycott on the Republic Day celebrations on January 26, 1987. As a first initiative in non-peaceful methods, it was an absurd step, and after generating much heat in the news media, it was finally withdrawn.
Later, however, on March 30, 1987, Muslim leaders organized a rally of “millions” in front of the Boat Club in New Delhi in order to pressurize the government into meeting their demand. On this occasion, provocative speeches were made and inflammatory slogans, such as “We will not rest content until we have taken the Babri Masjid back” were shouted. In a frenzy of fiery speech-making, the leaders announced that the next step would be to set off on a march to Ayodhya, where, after making a victorious entry, they would proceed to the mosque to say their Friday prayers. Later, at the meeting held in December, 1987, two marches were announced, one, a mini-march of the leaders on August 12, 1988, and the other, the long march of the general Muslim body on October, 14, 1988. According to the announcement, both marches were to originate from Faizabad and terminate at the Babri Masjid, Ayodhya. The first march was to be undertaken by about 500 Muslim leaders and representatives, and the second by millions of the Muslim public.
But neither the mini-march nor the long march became a reality. The reason was that as soon as the Ayodhya march was announced by Muslim leaders, the extremist organizations of the opposing party, like the Ram Janam Bhumi Sangharsh Samiti, the Bajrang Dal and the Vishw Hindu Parishad became galvanized into activity. It was as if the challenge posed by the Muslims had given them new life. They openly made statements to the effect that if the Muslims carried out the Ayodhya march, they would be crushed long before they reached their destination. The Muslim leaders then managed, on some pretext, to postpone the march of August 12. The excuse they made was that the central government was taking some interest in this matter, and that it hoped, by negotiating with both parties, to find a solution which would be acceptable to both.
According to the daily Qaumi Awaz (September 27, 1988), a meeting of the Markazi Rabita Committee of the Babri Masjid movement was held in New Delhi on September 26. In view of the prevailing situation, the Rabita committee decided that the march of the million Muslims, scheduled to take place in October 14, 1988, would have to be postponed. This same date, however, was now fixed for the leaders’ march, which was supposed to have taken place on August 12, 1988.
The so-called leaders of the Babri Masjid movement then repeatedly exhorted the Muslim public to participate in the Ayodhya march. According to the Qaumi Awaz of October 8, 1988, the convenor of the Babri Masjid Rabita Committee announced that “there is no question of postponing or cancelling the march.” The report added, moreover, that “the Rabita Committee has sent a written request to the Chief Minister of U.P., Mr. Narain Dutt Tiwari, that security arrangements be made for the Muslim leaders participating in that march (p. 1)”.
A statement published in the press by the convenor of the Rabita Committee of the Babri Masjid Movement sought to clarify the Muslim position:
“Through several newspapers, the misunderstanding has been created by certain individuals that the Ayodhya march, in which volunteers from allover the country will participate, has been postponed. The Ayodhya march has not been postponed. The date fixed for it is October 14, 1988. We appeal to all the action committees of all states, districts and cities to continue their preparations for the Ayodhya march. Volunteers’ names should continue to be registered in every locality and mosque, groups should be formed in each place, and the funds to meet their travelling expenses should be raised (Dawat, October 1, 1988).”
Right upto the 13th of October, the leaders of the Babri Masjid Movement went on proclaiming that Ayodhya march would certainly take place on the 14th of October. There was no question of its being postponed or cancelled. Such public announcements and speeches so exacerbated Hindu sentiments that they began to take steps to foil the march. One measure they took was to organize a bandh in UP on October 8, 1988. On this occasion, provocative speeches were made at different places, with the result that tensions built up and riots broke out in several UP towns, such as Muzaffarnagar, Aligarh, Bahraich, Jhansi, Khatauli, Faizabad, Gopalganj, etc. Lives were lost and property destroyed, and the sufferers were, of course, the Muslims.
The so-called leaders still continued to announce that the Ayodhya march would certainly take place, and in the same breath, continued to demand that the government should guarantee the safety of the marchers. But the government refused to comply with this demand, and asked instead that the march be postponed on the grounds that an acceptable solution could be arrived at through negotiation.
Although Muslim leaders had repeatedly declared that the Ayodhya march would take place on the proposed date that, in fact, it was unstoppable – they had to accept the fact that the government was not ready to take the responsibility for their security. This meant that they would be laying themselves wide open to the onslaughts of the other party. Nor could they close their eyes to the bloody riots in different parts of U.P. which had been sparked off in the wake of the bandh organized by extremist Hindu groups. This, inter alia, made it crystal clear that if the Ayodhya march were carried out, violence would surely follow. At this stage, the hazards having obviously become too great, the Muslim public withdrew its support for the march. They could hardly continue to be enthusiastic about a journey which could easily end in death. With no support and no guarantee of security, the Muslim leaders took the only way out. Just one day before the appointed date, they announced the postponement (actually the cancellation) of the march.
This piece of strategy saved the lives of the Muslim leaders, but what of the hundreds of Muslim families who suffered maiming, death and destruction in the violence which erupted as a result of the October bandh? The problem of the Babri Masjid had not only been solved but, if anything, had deepened in intensity. The Muslim leaders’ approach had achieved nothing. It had only added to the number of Muslim graves.
Just a few days before the Ayodhya march was due to take place, I asked someone whom I considered an average Muslim whether he thought it would actually take place. “Maulana Sahib,” he replied, “life is dear to everyone.” His negativism was merely an acknowledgement that no one would knowingly and willingly court death over such an issue.
In the beginning, the Muslim public had been enough to support the “champions of the movement.” They thought that simply by swelling the crowds addressed by their leaders, they could solve the problem of the Babri Masjid. But, finally, they came to the conclusion that their leaders’ oratory was nothing but the loud rattle of empty vessels. Moreover, by marching on the Babri Masjid, their only ‘achievement’ would be to lose their lives and property. The real problem would remain unsolved. A march of this kind would only mean the destruction of the community. It had nothing in the least constructive about it. Although late in the day, the scales finally fell from Muslim eyes, and they at last understood the true nature of the problem.
It very clearly appeared from their attitude that they were not going to participate in the march alongside their leaders. Now the leaders of the movement found themselves alone. The “millions of Muslims,” the crowd they had imagined raising slogans along with them, and cheering them wildly as they addressed the throng, – thus adding to their glory, – were nowhere to be seen. Seeing that they were now helpless in their isolation, the leaders prepared an announcement of postponement of the march and had it published in the newspapers just one day before the scheduled date.
Here, I was reminded of a humorous tale whose events are quite on a parallel with the Ayodhya march. I heard it in Medina in 1984, from a Palestinian Muslim, by the name of Mustafa Shawar, who had gone to Medina for his education. He used to talk very interestingly, and one day, he told me this story of a ruler who had a very troublesome camel. Not being tethered, the beast used to stray into fields and orchards, and seriously damage the crops. The villagers, who were thoroughly sick of this camel, went to the Khatib (leader of prayer in the mosque) and sought his help. The Khatib duly thought of a plan. He asked the villagers to follow him to the residence of the ruler, where he would call out the latter’s name. “When the ruler comes out, I will call out, ‘O, Hakim (ruler), your camel.’ Then you will have to say in chorus, ‘Stop it from harassing us!” Having settled the villagers’ role, the Khatib set off with great enthusiasm, walking further and further ahead. In the beginning the people walked right behind him, but the further they went, more they were overcome by their fear of the ruler, and, in ones and twos, they slunk away to their homes. By the time the Khatib had reached the ruler’s residence, he was marching all alone. Without looking behind him, he knocked on the great door, and, as agreed, when the Hakim came out, called out “O, Hakim, ‘your camel!” To his dismay, there was no chorus from behind to complete the sentence. Once again, he exclaimed, “O, Hakim, your camel” In the silence that followed, the Hakim, in exasperation, asked him what on earth he wanted to say. Embarrassed at finding himself all alone, the Khatib quickly finished the sentence with”.... wants a she-camel!” Whereupon he made an abrupt departure.
The slogan-shouting of the Ayodhya march met a very similar fate. The would-be leaders had announced that for the recovery of the Babri Masjid, they would march on August 12 and October, 14. In their rabble-rousing speeches, they had asserted that millions of Muslims from all over the country would reach Ayodhya, raising slogans, and that on making a triumphant entry into the Babri Masjid, they would say their Friday prayers. The situation later changed so drastically that it became clear to everyone that ‘Ayodhya march’ was synonymous with ‘bloody march.’ Muslims could be heard saying that if they joined in it, they would be marching to their deaths. “Why should one get killed for nothing, and leave behind us widows and orphans?”
Now the leaders of the movement found themselves in the same plight as that of the Khatib. When they turned around, they found no “millions of Muslims” behind them. So, in the same way, they quickly altered their slogan so that it should express an appeal to Muslims to go to the mosques and pray, rather than go on the march to Ayodhya, their explanation being that a Muslim marches not towards man, but towards God. The only comment I have to add is that if the leaders had expressed these sentiments at the outset, their words would have carried some weight. But at that particular juncture, they only underlined their incompetence and lack of foresight.
On February 14, 1986, I made the following entry in my diary: “Today was Friday. ‘Babri Masjid Day’ was observed today at the instance of the leaders of the Babri Masjid Movement. Many emotional speeches were made in the mosques of Delhi and U.P. Today when I went to say my Friday prayers in a Delhi mosque, the Imam appeared extraordinarily excited. He spoke loudly, almost shouting. “Our throats may be slit, we may be crushed by tanks, or fired on by cannons, but we cannot tolerate our mosque being taken possession of, or desecrated .....”
After the prayer, processions filed through the streets. When one of these reached Lal Kuan in Delhi, the situation turned violent. The police had to open fire and, as a result, two Muslim youths lost their lives. In other places, too, in U.P., firing had to be resorted to, and, of course, it was Muslims who had to bear the loss of lives and property.
After raising a great hue and cry for the space of one day, the Muslims with no choice but to bear their losses unilaterally, relapsed into silence. And the ‘Babri Masjid’ was still the “Ram Janam Bhumi Mandir.”
When I realized what the actual state of affairs was that day, I exclaimed, “It is better to remain silent before, rather than after displaying cowardice.” This utterance was subsequently published on the front page of the Urdu edition of Al-Risala (September 1986) with the subheading of ‘Destruction in the name of Sacrifice.’
As for recovering the Babri Masjid, the so-called leaders did not succeed by even one per cent. All they have managed to do is increase Muslim problems. One Muslim newspaper wrote that the whole country was enveloped in the ‘fire of communalism.’ The title given to this particular essay was ‘Muslims Horror-Stricken.’ It is certainly true that hatred, anger, revenge and tension have combined to produce an atmosphere in which it is all but impossible for innocent, peace-loving people to lead a courageous and honourable life (Hujoom, 18-24 November, 1988).
Although these circumstances are deplorable in the extreme, they have had one positive result, and that is that Muslims have started thinking realistically. Now they are able to understand that the responsibility for this situation devolves more upon them than upon anyone else. The creators of this atmosphere are those self-styled leaders who, in the name of sacrifice, have been hastening Muslims along the downward path to destruction.
Another Muslim journal, which had also indulged in emotionalism in politics, made the avowal that “in this, some blame has to be shared by us as well. We were overcome by emotion. We did not have before us the example of the Prophet. We erred in trying to solve the problems emotionally rather than by planning. This struggle is not going to be successful solely on the strength of provocative statements and speeches (Nida-e-Millat, October 23, 1988).”
It is a matter of satisfaction that, after witnessing the dire consequences of emotional politics, Muslims now want to distance themselves from the arena. The sacrifice of human lives has at last opened the eyes of the people to the futility of wasting a hundred years on absurd slogans and appeals. Could they but free themselves from the influence of their leaders, they would come much nearer to attaining their objectives, because their refusal to be guided by self-appointed leaders would be the greatest step towards real progress.
Undesirable Consequences
The movement launched in the name of the Babri Masjid has produced results which are quite the reverse of what was originally aimed at. One dangerous consequence has been that the extremist Hindu elements, now being united, have become very powerful, and thus pose a serious threat to Muslims.
I gained an interesting insight into how this unity was achieved from an experience related to me by a Mr. Raj Tiwari, a businessman from Bhopal, whom I met at Bhopal Airport while waiting for my flight to Delhi in November 88. It seems that a few days prior to this, he had to go on business to Bankura, a town in West Bengal. The hotel he stayed in, the Pushpak, had a mandir to one side of it with a board above its entrance bearing the words, ‘Zita Shiv Sena Karayalaya, West Bengal.’ While he was examining this board, an elderly Bengali came up to him and enquired what he was looking at. Raj Tiwari, who could speak and understand Bengali, told him that he had just been wondering how this ‘sena’ (army) came to be by the side of the mandir. The Bengali first of all asked him his name and address, then, introducing himself as Pankaj Mukherji, he asked him to come inside. Then he took him to an office like room where some people were working. The walls were adorned with pictures of different Hindu leaders, such as Shivaji, Rana Partap, Sawarkar, Hedgwad, etc. All of these pictures were 2 feet square, but they were dwarfed by one centrally placed life-sized portrait which was double their size. Raj Tiwari’s eye was immediately caught by this portrait and, to his surprise, he recognised the features of Syed Shahabuddin. Unable to understand how such a picture came to be within the precincts of a mandir, he asked Mr. Mukherji how it happened that Syed Shahabuddin’s picture had been placed in a position of such prominence, adding, “He is your enemy, isn’t he?” The Bengali answered, “My son, he is our god. What all our leaders had failed to achieve in a thousand years has been accomplished by Syed Shahabuddin in just a year and a half. Hindus who had slumbered for hundreds of years have been ‘awakened by Shahabuddin. We will make a mandir in his name. We will worship him.”
Mr. Tiwari dictated this incident to me at 3 p.m. on the 13th of November at Bhopal airport, and then, to vouch for its veracity he put his signature to it. Finally, he offered that if anyone wanted to see this for himself, he was welcome to accompany him to Bankura where he would personally show it to him.
Mr. Raj Tiwari’s report is not the only one of its kind. The weekly Nida-e-Millat (Lucknow) writes in its editorial of October 23, 1988:
“Once a Hindu visited the residence of a prominent leader of his community where, to his astonishment, he found that a large picture of Syed Shahabuddin had been hung on the wall and garlanded. When he asked how the photograph had come to be there, the Hindu leader replied, ‘Shahabuddin is our benefactor. He has united the Hindu community. ‘This story is entirely factual and contains no element of exaggeration.”
Given such clear indications, if Muslims still cannot distinguish between friend and foe, they deserve to go down in history as the most foolish community which ever existed.
