My native place Palghat is a sleepy town. It has rarely seen a communal riot other than in the TV, has a sizeable tamil muslim population and Palghat people by nature are extremely docile. This serene agrarian town lives in a pace of its own, slow and tedious. Hardly ambitious, the average Palghat guy is pleasant to be with and utterly selfless.
One never had to preach religious harmony to them, as it comes naturally to them.
But things have changed. A visit to my family deity, Manappulli Kavu, during Navarathri festival came as a shock to me. First, I had to park my car a little away as there was a police barricade. As if that was not bad enough, there was heavy security in and outside the small temple. Bags and mobiles were not allowed, nor were even small packets. The policemen were polite and almost embarassed to ask us to leave the bags in his custody, as if even asking us to do it was sacrilege (that is the kind of people we are). They explained patiently that there was a security threat to the temple from Muslim extremists. Once inside, I could see a visible drop in the number of devotees, as many prefered to stay back rather than go through the security hassle. For them, a visit to the temple situated amidst paddy fields, just off the road, was a routine uncomplicated affair. People just walked across and prayed in peace, at their own terms and pace.
And those devotees who were there, as also the vendors, were seething. They were blaming the Muslim community squarely for the situation. They were still polite about it but definitely angry that their sleepy and peaceful world has been shattered.
The long hands of terrorism has reached even my beautiful, sleepy town. Things will be never the same again. And there in lies the tragedy of India.
