As Hate Spreads In India, The Interfaith Iftar Is Bigger Than Ever
“After two years of pandemic-enforced solitude, this Ramzan the interfaith iftar is back in its most urgent iteration yet.”
By the time she got home from a flight, many of commercial pilot Hana Mohsin Khan’s 15 co-hosts (each had invited four people) had already arrived. For dinner, Gul, a chef, had brought haleem and biryani. There was zardah by Miriam, kemami sewai by Salma, and historian Rana aapa’s phirni. These were only a few of the dishes on the menu that night. The most important ingredient in all was love guaranteed to bridge divides of the heart.
Khan’s own heart was heavy, she felt exhausted, almost reluctant to meet the guests who were due to arrive soon. It was her third time hosting something like this at home, but in 2022 some of us feel more weighed down than ever by the burden of the viral hate for India’s Muslim citizens. As the evening progressed, her mood lifted.
“Honestly, I didn't think that it was going to be like this. It felt as if it has been ages since I had let my hair down and relaxed around safe people,” said Khan, who was targeted by Hindu extremists at the start of this year. She is part of a group of women, brought together in 2017 by author Nazia Erum to organise interfaith iftars.
(Photograph courtesy: Hana Mohsin Khan)
“The mood is very sombre, we don't feel like celebrating Eid except as a thanksgiving,” added Rana Safvi, a co-host of the evening who gave a short talk on what roza means. “It’s a time for learning to control your desires, not restricted to food…zikr and fikr (remembrance of god and introspection, a time for spiritual rejuvenation).”
Dosti ki iftar, mohabbat ka sharbat, dastarkhwan-e-mohabbat (tablecloth of love), Buddhist chanting alongside maghrib prayers, the archbishop attending an iftar hosted at a prominent Bangalore mosque—after two years of pandemic-enforced solitude, this Ramzan the interfaith iftar is back in its most urgent iteration yet.
Forget February. Ramzan is the month of love that India needs.
Most interfaith initiatives were led by the Muslim community, but not all. In Kolkata, the Bishop organised an interfaith iftar. In Bangalore, the Maha Bodhi Society, a Buddhist charitable organisation reached out to Muslims saying they wanted to host an iftar. “It’s definitely the need of the hour for people who believe in shared human values to come together and preserve those human values,” said Mobashir, a member of the Quran Study Circle that co-hosted the iftar.
(Photograph courtesy: Quran Study Circle)
Tousif Masood, who attended the evening, described it to me. After breaking their fast, Muslim invitees prayed and then the monks chanted. Later the two groups exchanged short presentations on Islam and Buddhism. “We gave the azaan in their prayer hall,” Masood said. “In this time of extreme polarisation, it felt very good that our Buddhist brothers had invited us. If regular people just start talking and interacting with each other, 70% of the situation will get diffused.”
Also coming up this week: An iftar at dargah Hazrat Nizamuddin in Delhi and a community iftar at Jolly Mohalla in Bangalore.
Shagufta Siddhi, who runs the Ganga Jamuni Foundation remembers the time in school when someone wished her ‘Happy Muharram’ on what is a solemn occasion and not a celebration. She views interfaith iftars as a chance to enter the private spaces of Muslim households that may previously have been out of bounds. “Eid was always a family celebration at home, but there’s a need now to reach out to each other, explore each other’s worlds,” she said. “There’s a need for us to open up, to allow people not to fear.”
Siddhi is organising an interfaith iftar on April 28, one of the 10 nights of forgiveness of Ramzan.
Inter-faith Iftaar hosted by a group of Muslim women, held at a haveli in Purani Delhi, in May 2019. (Photograph courtesy: Nazia Erum)
The venue? The historic Sharif Manzil, that belonged to Hakim Ajmal Khan, the Hakim of the Maharaja of Patiala. Poet Ghalib took refuge here in 1857. Khan’s descendants live here now. “Their daughter-in-law is non-Muslim, a Kashmiri Pundit, so it’s a historic location with a wonderfully progressive family,” Siddhi said, adding that she also saw it as an opportunity to educate those who enjoy the food available during this month but who feel discomfort about the “living culture” of Muslims.
“It’s not an iftar party. Those who come would have skipped lunch or fasted the whole day, irrespective of faith. The food is all potluck, and you don't know where any particular dish has come from.
(Photograph courtesy: Hana Mohsin Khan)
In 2019, invitees were selected after they filled a Google Form explaining why they wanted to attend an iftar. Siddhi still remembers what one young woman whose mother, a Tamilian Brahmin with fixed ideas about the Muslim community, wrote: “I’ve understood that the Mughals might be more Indian than me.” Her mother attended too and said she was surprised to not find any blood on the street.
As I spoke to Indians who are doing their bit to keep love alive in the month of Ramzan, I couldn’t help but remember Khalid Saifi, with whom I once had an extensive discussion on combating hate and who has spent more than two years in jail for allegedly planning the 2020 Delhi riots. Saifi has argued he is falsely implicated and there is no evidence linking him to the communal riots.
Saifi, a key member of United Against Hate, understood the power of food. Nafrat Nahi, Kheer Baanto, was the slogan when members of this group distributed kheer in Delhi on Eid and Diwali in 2019. “On Eid, we asked our Hindu members to distribute the sweet, and on Diwali, our Muslim members took the lead. They made kheer from 200 litres of milk and distributed it to 3,000 people,” Saifi told me. I hope Saifi hangs on to his hope this Eid.
Priya Ramani is a Bengaluru-based journalist and is on the editorial board of Article-14.com.
The views expressed here are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent the views of BloombergQuint or its editorial team.