Why does it matter?

It has been two months since the Paris attacks and yet I feel the need to publish this post. I spent weeks after the attack taking in all the news I could, weighing in all the responses I could, and trying to form my own view of it. Why does it matter so much to me?

The first, very simple reason is that the religion we speak of runs in my blood. Well, it runs in my family. Oh, fine, my larger, nationwide family, if you must insist. Anybody who has grown up in India listening to our music, reading our literature, looking at our poetry, architecture and paintings will understand me when I say that Islam is a part of us, and it certainly is a part of me; my mind and soul. Urdu remains the most romantic tongue to my ear and quotes from Akbar Birbal stories (known to me only in my own Marathi mother tongue) appear promptly in my mind to illustrate some random point in everyday conversation. Do not even get me started on classical music or painting or films! Some of our best, most loved, artistes belong to said faith. I defy anybody who tries to convince me that Islam is separate from me. And it is heartbreaking to know how many would immediately attempt to do exactly that.

Secondly, I have fallen hopelessly in love with Britain (and the larger idea of European unity). Having studied there and tasted true freedom there; having seen in practice, theories and projects I had only read or thought about, from experiments in environment to inclusive culture and arts, enhanced communication and liberties, this set of countries, especially Britain, has made an impression on me. It was there that I met some of the most, courteous, humble, passionate and kind human beings I’ve known. The personality, the core character of the country seemed to fit me like nothing else had ever done. And I am filled with apprehension and sadness at the thought that people espousing these ideals might be under threat.

I have often dreamt of our own neighbouring countries (including the separated sibling Pakistan) having relations akin to the European union; of being able to travel to and from these countries freely and learning about them and sharing their culture. I admit I am too utopian for my own good. We have a very long way to go, but it is such a pity that those who have made great progress in neighbourhood ties are themselves being pulled back in time.

And then thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, there’s that innate part of being an artist. Of having a view and expressing it. In a way and form that I hone and nurture and perfect. That I work on, and think about, and relook at. None of that is by any means trivial, and I pity those the most who have not learned how to appreciate (and that includes to critique) a piece of artistic expression.

So it is really no surprise that the incident is a direct assault on much that I hold dear, a lot of which constitutes my identity. One may even credibly say that I have been very, very, deeply offended.

But as a mature adult, I must make my peace with it and allow my mind to proceed to the understanding of the problem. And in parting, I have to say in the loudest voice I have, that I stand in solidarity with Europe, and hope that nothing (including themselves) destroys their inclusive culture of tolerance and unity.