Pavanputra Hanuman ki Jai

I write this on the morning of the verdict on Ayodhya. The streets in Mumbai are eeriely deserted. When I went to drop off the brat this morning to school, there was no traffic jam and there was but a thin trickle of students coming into school. I woke up to smses from friends saying they werent taking a chance, and they would not be sending their children in.
I almost put my head into my hands and wept. In 1992, I was living alone with my mother in bank staff quarters at Dindoshi Malad East. One of the worst affected zones by the communal riots that broke out after the demolition of the Babri Masjid by the kar sevaks. I remember spending days huddled in terror at home wondering whether it was safe to leave the house. I remember our Hindu Maharashtrian neighbours going down and removing my mother's name from the list of residents on the ground floor. She, a practising Christian, went by her married name. A Muslim name. I remember our neighbours telling us that they would hide us if the mobs came for us.I remember walking with my hands up in the air, when I happened to reach late, past the curfew deadline, all the way from the station to home, and army men, asking my id card and cracking crude jokes over my then Muslim surname. I also remember a gentleman from the forces, a superior of those cracking the jokes, insisting I get into the army jeep and dropping me safe, sound and untouched to my doorstep. I had not realised the danger, I, a teenaged girl, was in.
Today, it is over a decade since the riots that plagued the city. I am a married woman. I am married to a wonderful man who happens to be a staunch Hindu. Who married me because he loved me and my lack of  being from the suitable religion didnt stop him. My son is a mongrel from all three religions, his maternal grandmother a Catholic, his maternal grandfather a Muslim, his father a Rajput Hindu. And I have sent him into school today. Because I dont want to give into the fear. Because I would like to hope that sanity will prevail. That we have matured as a nation to go beyond the petty politics of religion and community and embrace each other as human beings first. Because I would like to put my foot down and say, enough is enough. I dont want to be living my life in the shadow of communal violence. I dont want my son to know that such ugliness exists in the world. I may be living with blinkers on, but I would like to think there are more out there like me, who will will this fear to go away. I will also go out to work today. As will my husband. I will go for a shoot. Go for an interview. I want to believe that life will be normal, as it should be.
The brat plays Hanuman in the Ram Lila we are enacting for Navratri. He has been mugging up his dialogues since the last couple of days. He has watched Ramayan, the animated series and Hanuman, the animated movies too. He is proud to play Hanuman. He says Hanuman is strong, and kind and valiant.
Hold my hand, and stand with me. Tell me we as a nation are not going to stand for mindless violence anymore. Give me strength and give me hope.