Two years ago, my father passed away in a Mumbai hospital. He had long struggled with insomnia and occasionally relied on medication to help him sleep. As he aged, the medications became increasingly ineffective. In his final days, doctors experimented with various medications and dosages to provide him some relief.
“Kal mere haath baandhey the inhoney. Maine kaha inse bhai main terrorist nahin hun, mera ghar yahin hai, family hai meri yahan,” my father confided in me about his experience from the night before in the hospital’s ICU.
At first, my heart sank; I assumed he was under the influence of medication and was most likely hallucinating. Still, it was difficult to dismiss his words entirely, especially as he looked quite alert in his navy-blue hospital gown, freshly sponge-bathed and having just finished his breakfast.
My father kept recalling the incident, trying to make sense of what might have happened at night. When I shared his discomfort and anxiety with the senior doctor, I was recommended to take him for a stroll in a wheelchair. It is then that he spotted a young doctor seated at his desk in the ICU room.
Raising his index finger, my father gestured to take him to the doctor. Always polite and soft spoken, my father looked the doctor straight in the eye. With a confidence rare at that age and in his health condition he said, “Kal aap ne mere haath baandhey the.”
The doctor gently but firmly responded, “Jee baandhey the. Na baandh tey toh aap neend mein girr jaatey aur aap ko lagaye IV fluids aap ko aur takleef dete.”
My heart sank for a reason, my father was right. Despite the influence of the medication, he remembered being restrained. What hurt more though was the underlying terror the episode revealed – my father was terrified that he was being restrained because they suspected him, a Muslim man, of being a terrorist. He was about 80 when he died.
A recent video circulating on social media shows Ashraf Ali Sayyed Hussain, an elderly Muslim man being beaten up by a dozen men on a local train in Mumbai, under the suspicion of carrying beef.
Painfully gruesome lynching videos from India surface every other day. Something about this video felt different. Could it be that the man in the video reminded me of my own frail, elderly father? Could it be the helpless look in his eyes, the tremor in his voice as he struggled to stay calm amid the humiliation? Could it also be that he was assaulted in aamchi Mumbai’s local train of all the places?
On August 28, a local train, the lifeline for the city’s working-class Mumbaiites, bore witness to the naked brutality in full view as spectators watched powerlessly.
For the past nine years, there has been a deliberate and systemic attack on Muslims throughout India. I wonder if the survivors feel a sense of gratitude for merely being alive. How does one get over such brazen, everyday oppression?
In a brief conversation with the Hindu, Ashraf Ali’s son stated, “We are in distress, scared, worried about our safety. He is in extreme pain and depression; he breaks down in between…the humiliation will remain with him for long.”
It is not far-fetched to draw a parallel between this ongoing humiliation, dehumanisation and normalisation of violence against Muslims in India with that of Palestinians that has led to their full-blown genocide the world is witnessing today.
For those in denial, it’s worth noting that in 2022-2023, India ranked among the 10 countries at the highest risk of mass killings, according to Early Warning Project, a research initiative which assesses mass atrocities and genocide risks worldwide. India currently holds the 5th highest-risk position out of 166 countries. Sudan ranks fourth.
If we are to take our constitution seriously, we must call out the so-called cow vigilantes for what they truly are – terrorists. My father was not a terrorist. Seventy-two-year-old Ashraf Ali Sayyed Hussain is not a terrorist. The cow vigilantes are.
Despite video evidence, only four out of the dozen men have been accused. The individuals acted with a disturbing certainty of impunity from those in power. In fact, they were on their way to appear for a police exam. One of the detained is identified as the son of a Special Reserved Police Force officer in Maharashtra.
These individuals aren’t being reckless, and neither are the powers that be. If there’s anything more palpable than the fear on the face of the elderly man, it is the chilling fearlessness of the men who carried out the assault with such pride and jubilation. The attack, carried out in broad daylight, and the audacity with which it was shot on a phone and posted widely on social media sends us a loud and clear message. A message we can no longer ignore.
Sanobar Sabah is a marketing and communications specialist. Her articles have been featured in Newsweek, Memoir Land, Ochre Sky Stories, and FemAsia, among others.
