AKANKSHA KUMAR
When I visited Nuh in Haryana in September last year, it was anything but easy trying to meet those affected by the communal violence in July 2023.
Lawyers representing the local Muslim men either were too busy or seemed reluctant to speak out amid the frenzy around the state assembly election due in a month.
Tracking down the family of Waseem Akram, who has been incarcerated for more than a year now, was indeed a task. Several calls and assurances of a fair portrayal finally led me to Akram’s house in Nalhar village.
His elder brother, Umar Din, was desperate to talk. Akram’s two other cousins—Shahun and Mohd Yousuf—also joined, hoping media coverage might help the case.
Their frustration stemmed from the fact that provisions related to India’s terror law, UAPA (or Unlawful Activities Prevention Act), added complexity to the case.
“Ek community ko dabane ki koshish hai” (It’s an attempt to suppress a community) was a common refrain in our conversation. The family, as anxious as it was, had questions regarding the use of UAPA in the case of the murder of a Bajrang Dal worker.
At the same time, Akram’s brothers rued how strained their ties had become with a temple nearby, which was at the heart of the communal brawl.
One recalled, as they spoke about friendly ties with a temple priest during childhood, “If a Muslim man is riding a bike on the road leading to the temple, he’s bound to offer a lift to a Hindu going there to pray.”
The Nalhar Mahadev Temple was at the centre of the communal violence in July 2023, with Hindu participants of the Braj Mandal Jal Abhishek Yatra being attacked by local Muslims, following which a mosque was torched, and a Muslim cleric was shot to death.
Six people, including two home guards, were killed.
As I was about to leave, amidst several appeals to help them connect with Delhi-based lawyers, Yousuf suddenly showed me a screenshot from the chargesheet in Akram’s case.
“Maybe they added UAPA because of this,” he said.
The few lines that were readable on his mobile as night set in were about protesters' alleged links with the terror group Al Qaeda.
For a moment, I was stunned as I read the police claim.
In another household, as a relative led me to Noor Jahan’s house, one of her family members remarked snarkily, “Media se baat kar ke kya fayda” (What benefit will we get by talking to the media).
An exasperated Noor Jahan didn’t seem drained as she narrated the timeline of events to me for the Nth time. Three men from her family, two sons and a son-in-law, continue to be behind bars.
“Isko bhi pakad kar jail me daalo” (Arrest her as well and put her in jail), said Noor Jahan, recalling the curt behaviour of Haryana Police when she had gone to the police station inquiring about her sons.
“Women from our family don’t usually step out,” she said, trying to emphasise the gravity of an emergency that had forced her to take charge.
Before the violence, it was only her sons who would consult a doctor in Delhi and bring medicines when needed for Rahila, their sister with disabilities, but now there’s no one to hold the fort for the family.
Once the interview was over, Rahila handed me an old medical receipt from the Bhagwan Mahaveer Viklang Sahayata Samiti, based in Rajendra Nagar, New Delhi.
“Will this help tell our story better?” she asked, her eyes moist.
Read Akanksha Kumar’s full story here.
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