- Joined
- Jul 24, 2008
- Messages
- 33,627
- Points
- 0
<TABLE id=msgUN border=0 cellSpacing=3 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR><TD id=msgUNsubj vAlign=top>
Coffeeshop Chit Chat - Indian FT loved SG for giving him chance</TD><TD id=msgunetc noWrap align=right>
Subscribe </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><TABLE class=msgtable cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="96%"><TBODY><TR><TD class=msg vAlign=top><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgbfr1 width="1%"> </TD><TD><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0><TBODY><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgF width="1%" noWrap align=right>From: </TD><TD class=msgFname width="68%" noWrap>kojakbt22 <NOBR>
</NOBR> </TD><TD class=msgDate width="30%" noWrap align=right>5:02 am </TD></TR><TR class=msghead><TD class=msgT height=20 width="1%" noWrap align=right>To: </TD><TD class=msgTname width="68%" noWrap>ALL <NOBR></NOBR></TD><TD class=msgNum noWrap align=right> (1 of 8) </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgleft rowSpan=4 width="1%"> </TD><TD class=wintiny noWrap align=right>16400.1 </TD></TR><TR><TD height=8></TD></TR><TR><TD class=msgtxt><TABLE border=0 cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=0 width="100%"><TBODY><TR><TD>An oasis of sanity - after Gujarat riots
</TD></TR><TR><TD><!-- headline one : end --></TD></TR><TR><TD><!-- Author --></TD></TR><TR><TD class="padlrt8 georgia11 darkgrey bold" colSpan=2>By Deepal Trivedi </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD Mohammed Sheikh came to Singapore to get a diploma in hospitality management so that he could gradually 'settle' down with a job.
Today, seven years later, he says Singapore has given him much more than an education or a job. It has given him security and a sense of belonging which remains a fantasy for most of his friends and relatives back home in India.
Hailing from Gujarat, Mohammed, like most of the 5.5 million Muslims in the state, witnessed gory riots in 2002 that saw bloody clashes between majority Hindus and minority Muslims in the otherwise industrialised and progressive state.
He watched three of his family members, including his father, getting butchered. Mohammed later learnt that his cousin was gang-raped before being charred to death. His family had to pay for being Muslims. Soon after the riots, they were socially ostracised by the Hindus in his city. The right-wing Hindu organisations even announced an 'economic' boycott of all Muslim products and services.
Besides losing his family and home, Mohammed lost confidence and faith in civil society. Democracy and human rights became an illusion for his community. Attempts by a section of the media and national and international human rights groups to change the situation by highlighting their plight boomeranged. The local pulse was so anti-Muslim that anyone espousing their cause was labelled a 'pseudo'. All Muslims were - Hindu Gujarat believed - anti-nationals.
But unlike most Muslims who silently accepted their marginalisation as their karma (destiny) and unlike the few who took to so-called jihad and got in touch with extreme Islamic elements across Indian boundaries to avenge the Gujarat carnage and get involved in chalking out an elaborate 'We versus Them struggle', Mohammed decided to move on in life.
He did not want to spend the rest of his life cursing his destiny, abhorring the role played by his passive state government or detesting a particular community. He wanted to move on.
After five months, when the bloody violence had abated, he went back to the hotel he worked at to resume his duty as the chief manager. His Hindu colleagues were glad that he was alive because the violence had left over 2,000 Muslim men, women and children dead.
Mohammed's employer, a kind Hindu man, offered some unsolicited but practical advice in the context of the changed socio-dynamics in Gujarat.
'Son, either change your name or change your address.'
If Mohammed sported his quintessentially Muslim name, the hotel owner would lose a significant chunk of business since Hindus would not like to see a Muslim name tag in the new divisive environment.
His Muslim name had become an obstacle to his career plans in Gujarat, which ironically produced Mahatma Gandhi, the apostle of peace and communal harmony. The Gujarati in Mohammed calculated: 'If I try to settle down in any other place in India, I would have to begin from scratch. So, why not another country? At least my future would be bright.'
The United States and Britain were beyond his economic considerations. He did not want to end up in an Islamic nation. And so Singapore appeared to be the most promising option. 'I moved on.'
Mohammed can now afford to beam with confidence. He aspires to become a Singapore citizen. He loves it when his children bring home Hindu friends and share snacks. 'My children have Christian, Buddhist, Hindu friends,' he says, proudly.
Mohammed says Singapore has instilled secular values in him.
'If I were in Gujarat, I think I would not even have met you.
'I would have been hating all Hindus and baying for their blood, perhaps,' he smiles as he passes on a plate of 'vegetarian ham' at the eatery where he works.
Singapore can be a good example of cohesive multi-faith existence. If Mohammed Sheikh had chosen to live in denial in his home state of Gujarat in India, perhaps he would not be able to confidently believe what he does today.
'I don't hate Hindus. Singapore has taught me to be more affirmative towards all religions. Do you want a mango yogurt drink, our desi lassi style?' he asks. 'It's quite like what you get at the Manek Chowk hawker centre in our city,' he says, getting nostalgic.
More than an economic powerhouse, it is this multicultural and multi-faith mosaic of Singapore that is eye-catching. Maybe it is because of Singapore residents like Mohammed that the authoritarian streak in five-decade-old People's Action Party rule gets subdued. It also makes me introspective.
When I came to Singapore, I was sceptical about the various state controls. Singapore's veiled authoritarianism was suffocating, but now, after meeting Mohammed, I am questioning the democratic system that fails to give social, physical and financial security to all its citizens. What is the point of constitutional provisions when they are simply of cosmetic value?
As a deputy manning an eatery joint in food-loving Singapore, Mohammed looks forward to a bright future for his daughters. He even aspires to bring his mother to Singapore so that she can 'see for herself that people of different faiths can be friends and can co-exist peacefully'.
'Muslims need to integrate into the mainstream society and it is unfair to view all Muslims as anti-nationals. But that is what happens in Gujarat, isn't it?' he asks.
My national pride and sense of belonging would be assaulted if I answer him truthfully, so I evade. Instead, I counter-question him. 'What Muslim sect do you belong to? Which mosque did you go to, back in India?'
Mohammed says: 'I don't want to get into all that. Now I am just a Singaporean. And I am proud of it.'
He then passionately starts outlining his plans of owning an eatery and becoming a part of Singapore's food business. I want to still move on, he says.
Best of luck, Mohammed.
(Mohammed Sheikh is the pseudonym of an Indian Muslim settled in Singapore who does not want to reveal his name and identity because he has extended family back in Gujarat.)
This article first appeared in the Asian Age of India. The writer is a Fellow of the Temasek Foundation-Nanyang Technological University Asia Journalism Fellowship Programme.
[email protected]
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
</TD></TR><TR><TD><!-- headline one : end --></TD></TR><TR><TD><!-- Author --></TD></TR><TR><TD class="padlrt8 georgia11 darkgrey bold" colSpan=2>By Deepal Trivedi </TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD Mohammed Sheikh came to Singapore to get a diploma in hospitality management so that he could gradually 'settle' down with a job.
Today, seven years later, he says Singapore has given him much more than an education or a job. It has given him security and a sense of belonging which remains a fantasy for most of his friends and relatives back home in India.
Hailing from Gujarat, Mohammed, like most of the 5.5 million Muslims in the state, witnessed gory riots in 2002 that saw bloody clashes between majority Hindus and minority Muslims in the otherwise industrialised and progressive state.
He watched three of his family members, including his father, getting butchered. Mohammed later learnt that his cousin was gang-raped before being charred to death. His family had to pay for being Muslims. Soon after the riots, they were socially ostracised by the Hindus in his city. The right-wing Hindu organisations even announced an 'economic' boycott of all Muslim products and services.
Besides losing his family and home, Mohammed lost confidence and faith in civil society. Democracy and human rights became an illusion for his community. Attempts by a section of the media and national and international human rights groups to change the situation by highlighting their plight boomeranged. The local pulse was so anti-Muslim that anyone espousing their cause was labelled a 'pseudo'. All Muslims were - Hindu Gujarat believed - anti-nationals.
But unlike most Muslims who silently accepted their marginalisation as their karma (destiny) and unlike the few who took to so-called jihad and got in touch with extreme Islamic elements across Indian boundaries to avenge the Gujarat carnage and get involved in chalking out an elaborate 'We versus Them struggle', Mohammed decided to move on in life.
He did not want to spend the rest of his life cursing his destiny, abhorring the role played by his passive state government or detesting a particular community. He wanted to move on.
After five months, when the bloody violence had abated, he went back to the hotel he worked at to resume his duty as the chief manager. His Hindu colleagues were glad that he was alive because the violence had left over 2,000 Muslim men, women and children dead.
Mohammed's employer, a kind Hindu man, offered some unsolicited but practical advice in the context of the changed socio-dynamics in Gujarat.
'Son, either change your name or change your address.'
If Mohammed sported his quintessentially Muslim name, the hotel owner would lose a significant chunk of business since Hindus would not like to see a Muslim name tag in the new divisive environment.
His Muslim name had become an obstacle to his career plans in Gujarat, which ironically produced Mahatma Gandhi, the apostle of peace and communal harmony. The Gujarati in Mohammed calculated: 'If I try to settle down in any other place in India, I would have to begin from scratch. So, why not another country? At least my future would be bright.'
The United States and Britain were beyond his economic considerations. He did not want to end up in an Islamic nation. And so Singapore appeared to be the most promising option. 'I moved on.'
Mohammed can now afford to beam with confidence. He aspires to become a Singapore citizen. He loves it when his children bring home Hindu friends and share snacks. 'My children have Christian, Buddhist, Hindu friends,' he says, proudly.
Mohammed says Singapore has instilled secular values in him.
'If I were in Gujarat, I think I would not even have met you.
'I would have been hating all Hindus and baying for their blood, perhaps,' he smiles as he passes on a plate of 'vegetarian ham' at the eatery where he works.
Singapore can be a good example of cohesive multi-faith existence. If Mohammed Sheikh had chosen to live in denial in his home state of Gujarat in India, perhaps he would not be able to confidently believe what he does today.
'I don't hate Hindus. Singapore has taught me to be more affirmative towards all religions. Do you want a mango yogurt drink, our desi lassi style?' he asks. 'It's quite like what you get at the Manek Chowk hawker centre in our city,' he says, getting nostalgic.
More than an economic powerhouse, it is this multicultural and multi-faith mosaic of Singapore that is eye-catching. Maybe it is because of Singapore residents like Mohammed that the authoritarian streak in five-decade-old People's Action Party rule gets subdued. It also makes me introspective.
When I came to Singapore, I was sceptical about the various state controls. Singapore's veiled authoritarianism was suffocating, but now, after meeting Mohammed, I am questioning the democratic system that fails to give social, physical and financial security to all its citizens. What is the point of constitutional provisions when they are simply of cosmetic value?
As a deputy manning an eatery joint in food-loving Singapore, Mohammed looks forward to a bright future for his daughters. He even aspires to bring his mother to Singapore so that she can 'see for herself that people of different faiths can be friends and can co-exist peacefully'.
'Muslims need to integrate into the mainstream society and it is unfair to view all Muslims as anti-nationals. But that is what happens in Gujarat, isn't it?' he asks.
My national pride and sense of belonging would be assaulted if I answer him truthfully, so I evade. Instead, I counter-question him. 'What Muslim sect do you belong to? Which mosque did you go to, back in India?'
Mohammed says: 'I don't want to get into all that. Now I am just a Singaporean. And I am proud of it.'
He then passionately starts outlining his plans of owning an eatery and becoming a part of Singapore's food business. I want to still move on, he says.
Best of luck, Mohammed.
(Mohammed Sheikh is the pseudonym of an Indian Muslim settled in Singapore who does not want to reveal his name and identity because he has extended family back in Gujarat.)
This article first appeared in the Asian Age of India. The writer is a Fellow of the Temasek Foundation-Nanyang Technological University Asia Journalism Fellowship Programme.
[email protected]
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
