Reverse Racism or Xenophobia?

In one of my post last year, I wrote about my dismay at the faces I saw on my way back to Manipur. I had pointedly asked “What good do this Marwaris and Beharis bring to our land?” It was just a rhetoric question but now with the recent killing spree of ‘Non-Manipuris’ in Manipur, I feel guilty enough to make a clarification.

Firstly, I want to clarify that the Marwaris and Beharis in Manipur are mostly traders and when they came to the North-east their intention was/is profits (money) and not to kill our culture or tradition nor to bring their own. They are innocent on that regards –I mean, the tribals in the north-east had done enough to kill their culture and tradition by embracing non-indigenous religion and culture a century ago.

Secondly, the whole of the north-east is a rather backward area, and since those people come there for profits and don’t utilize their profits there, they are guilty of economically exploiting the natives.

Thirdly, every Indian had a constitutionally guaranteed freedom of movement and to reside anywhere in the country, but the north-east is different. Except for Tripura, Meghalaya and Assam (is it the large presence of non-tribals that make them lost their status as a restricted tribals area?), foreigners/NRIs and people from the mainland needed a permit, RAP/PAP (Restricted/Protected Area Permit) and ILP (Inner-Line Permit) respectively, to visit the North-eastern states. The very existence of such restriction, though it hardly serves its purpose, evidently point that those people are in the wrong place.

Fourthly, with the tribals’ experience in Tripura, it is understandable if the uncontrolled mass influx of non-natives makes them uncomfortable. In Tripura, the tribals had become a minority especially after the Bangladesh War when Bengalis Refugees came in hordes. The Bengalis demographic invasion made the Tribal state of Tripura a Bengalis state –dominating the culture and politics of the state.

Fifthly, our states already have the not so desirable images as failed states and we don’t need such recklessness to make our pathetic image any bloodier; I only hope their deaths bring some mainland media attention to the conveniently ignored states and, hopefully, some reformative actions from the government as well.

And finally I want to ask, are we guilty of reverse racism, or is it just another case of xenophobia? I don’t want to believe that we are guilty of reverse racism even though each of us living in the mainland had enough tales of discriminations and denigrations to tell for a thousand nights. But it surely is a case of xenophobia, which is present in every culture of the world thought not always in such a violent form.

So my final question is, does the presence of non-natives pose a threat for us the natives, –especially in the protected states of Manipur, Mizoram and Nagaland. I don’t think so –for they make up just a miniscule percent of our population. And if you asked me, I’d always prefer a Marwaris/Beharis shopkeepers rather than some native girl sitting pretty inside the shop, telling you to take it or leave.

…misfortune alone can’t bring down the bridge

Sometimes, misfortune also brings about a realization that can make you feel much better or worse. Most of the times, the best of imagination, feeling and understanding are not enough to comprehend a situation, and, as always, first-hand experience is the most realistic and reliable experience i.e. if it doesn’t break you down.

It was exactly a week ago, a Monday night, on my way back home from office that I was attacked by 4 men on my way. I had always taken that route since we moved to this south-west Delhi area a few months ago. It is not a main road, but well lit and less crowded. I barely noticed them hanging around there until they started attacking me from behind. One of them caught hold of me and another keep punching and pulling my hair. The other, their leader, I suppose, keep shouting and abusing me from the side while one of them try to snatch my wallet and mobile phone from my hand.

Fortunately enough, I spotted a PCR van passing through the main road and I shouted for help. I thought the two policemen would rush, but they actually walked –walk, in its slowest version, while my attackers make their escape. But to surprise me more, I noticed six or seven men standing near the wall watching me being attacked and didn’t raise a single cry for help –forget about attempting to help me.

We have a saying that vaguely translates to –misfortune brought down the bridge. It was the last thing I expected, to be abused, assaulted and attacked. I am no tough nut nor is my slender frame made for physical fighting. Maybe all they want is my wallet and mobile phone or just to have some fun while robbing someone. I don’t know why I just don’t let go my phone and wallet, when my wallet is close to empty and my old phone will hardly fetch them much, but I just hold on to them as if my life hang on them –maybe my consciousness is not willing to be abused and robbed.

But the final blow comes with the Police. After ‘inspecting the situation’ (it’s their word), there’s no visible physical injuries and since they failed to rob me, there’s no need to register a case and I should just go home. They lectured me on sets of rules which I should observe as a minority living in Delhi and the first rules is to avoid this sort of places. I just want to tell them this is the sort of place we live, but it’s my nature to keep my mouth shut and spent some time in solitude when any sort of emotions passed me. They offered to drop me home; I just picked up my bag and pieces of eye-glass and went home.

I hardly feel anything at that moment but seething anger at the spectator who watched me like a beaten-up stray dog too frightened to even run, and at the cold advices of the policemen and their inaction. But late at night when I lay down to sleep and the day’s episode slowly passed my mind, I feel my heart beat fastening and sweat started to cover me. The thought of my attacker made me tired than the day’s work and the cold advice of the policemen made me shudder, and the whole incidents makes me nervous about the next day.

My attackers are no different from the average people whom I met in the street, or the people whom I work with. The mute spectators are not different either; they are the same faces I see when I look out of the window, when I turn left or right. How can I ever know this or that person will attack me and which one will not? I doubt I’ll ever find the answer, so I’ll have to live with the fear until time and memories sympathize with me and make me forget all about the incident.

I had always been concerned about my sisters and nieces, but it seems I hardly understand their feeling. Fearing about something that we never experience and fearing something that we had experienced is totally different. Looking back now, I’m especially angry with my self and at the policemen who advised me to quietly go back home. I had run away from seeking justice, thus failing not only myself, but my sisters and nieces and everyone else who might face the same situation in the future.

But when I asked myself –if something similar happened to someone in my presence, will I be the same mute spectator? I just don’t know how to answer that. I had been a mute spectator to many incidents unless it got anything to do with my immediate family, of course, they were much less minor, but my stand had always been –it’s better to avoid any sort of trouble as long as it can be avoided, and I still think that’s the best policy especially when living in the mainland.

Do I still think that’s the best policy? Well, I don’t know. A week has passed now, and I still dreaded taking that same route. I took only the main road, fighting for spaces with cycles, rickshaws, scooters and cars. But do I feel any safer on the main road –no, the incident still haunts me. And, something tells me that if I’m attacked here, no one would help me either but there’ll definitely be lots of spectators. After all, how can I expect anyone to get involved in a trouble that got nothing to do with him?

I think you must feel the same way I feel. This is a deep rooted problem facing not just you and me but everyone else. My case is not one of a kind, it happened every now and then, though it’s probable that my facial feature may make it easier for me to be selected out of the rest. But I still must maintain that it’s just my misfortune that the bridge would fall just as I passed.

I think such incidents would continue to happen until people get more educated and civilized enough to respect one another for what they are. And I sincerely hope our policemen learnt a little bit more about policing and instead of dissuading, they should encourage and try to earn the trust of the people. After all, misfortune alone doesn’t bring down the bridge.

No comment please, I’m recovering…