Express News Service
KAWAL (MUZAFFARNAGAR): Ritu’s voice stutters at the mention of Shahnawaz. Her composure vanishes and her response is curt. “That is an old story. I am happily married now and have a son,” says the tall and lean Ritu, adding: “Woh log waise hi hai (They are like that).”
By “woh log” she meant Shahnawaz Qureshi and people of his ilk. Ritu and Shahnawaz belonged to the same village, Kawal, in Muzaffarnagar district.It is alleged that Shahnawaz used to harass Ritu almost daily, and this prompted her brother Sachin and cousin Gaurav Singh to confront her ‘tormentor’ one day. Shahnawaz died in the altercation. His death led to the killing of the other two, sparking a spiral of violence that signed the western districts of Uttar Pradesh in August-September 2013.
Ritu’s dislike for “woh log” is reciprocated by the other community. The hatred between the Hindus and Muslims in this otherwise nondescript village widens even as the lanes and bylanes get narrower. Suspicion runs into such levels here that even children are taught to resent the other community.
Shakib, 10, still loves to play with his bicycle tyre. Clad in a white vest and shorts, he looks like any village urchin. But talk to him about the death of Shahnawaz and his anger surfaces. “If they both come and kill us, will we stay quiet?” Shakib says, barely able to hide his fury.
Kawal is home to about 200 members of each community. The houses of the Hindus and the Muslims are separated by two sugarcane fields – one of the few meeting points between the two communities.
At the entrance of the village, a police post keeps watching on tell-tale signs of possible flare-ups. “This keeps happening here. These two communities cannot live together in peace,” remarks a constable matter-of-factly.
‘They hate us and we are forced to hate them’
“Five years have gone by. One of my sons has been killed. The other three – Shehzad, Shadab and Shahnazar – are languishing in jail. The only thing I want now is bail for my sons. People who raped, murdered have been granted bail but due to pressure from Hindus, my sons haven’t yet got bail,” says Salim, Shahnawaz’s father.
Two houses to the left of Salim’s is where his brothers Nadeem and Ali live. The mention of the 2013 riots enrages them. “See, things are very simple. They (Hindus) were politically motivated and to satiate their political masters, they resorted to widespread killing. We have been the sufferers. They need to be taught a lesson,” Nadeem says.
Shahnawaz’s father is mostly confined to his house. Puffing on a beedi, Salim claims: “My son wasn’t even a regular resident of the village. He handled cloth business in Chennai and came only for Eid. I don’t know what enmity anyone can have against him. They just came, dragged my son out and killed him.”
The story is bitter on the other side of the sugarcane fields. Ritu’s father Bishan Singh wants nothing to hear about his son’s death. “The difference between us and them is not only the two fields that you see, it is much more. They hate us and we are forced to hate them,” he claims as he clasps framed photographs of Sachin and Gaurav and sobs.
Bishan’s neighbour, who did not want to be named, is a 30-year-old. According to him, Muslims always harass their daughters and women. “We wait outside the school to pick our daughters. We don’t trust them (Muslims) at all. Another school should be built in our area but you can see how poor we are, building a school is not possible.”
Back at Ritu’s home, her mother Munesh has an immense dislike for “woh log”. “Their attack led to my grandson being snatched away from me. I can never forgive them for this. I lost my son as well,” she seethes. According to Sachin’s family, his wife Swati took the government compensation of `12 lakh and walked out of their house, never to look back.
“We do not want the money. We are also ready to forget she exists. But I want my nephew back. Swati’s decision to ignore and not attend her husband’s death anniversary was insensitive, unthinkable. Leaders such as (Union Home Minister) Rajnath Singh were there, but she did not come,” Sachin’s cousin Devender Singh says as he slumps to his knees.
(Tomorrow: Point of no return)
