My interaction with people of other faiths has been minimalist in the religiously monochrome life that I have led. I have always longed to meet a Pakistani Sikh or a Pakistani Hindu- and till now, I have met neither. My father, however, once told me of a Hindu shopkeeper in Saddar who used to sell brown paper-bags many years ago. The only real interaction I have had with Pakistani non-Muslims is with two of my Christian friends in the college that I attend- and only due to the origins of that college in Christian missionary patronage.
Many, many years back, when I was in 1st or 2nd grade, with my narrow world of monolithic views and single-minded, often characteristically wrong opinions - when my belief in the views that my family held used to be absolute- I met a Christian friend of my brother who was his classmate with 2-year age difference from me. I remember, often with tremendous and overpowering shame, the sentence I spoke when my brother told me he was a Christian.
“Why don’t you become a Muslim?”
My brother visibly felt ashamed by my criminal naivety, took me aside and said that his family was Christian, that was the reason.
“Why don’t his parents become Muslim? Don’t they feel it’s the true religion? Should I go and tell them?”
The innocence with which I spoke this seems criminal to me in retrospect. My brother, always sensible, the one to whom I looked up to for rationality, gave a befitting response to my query- the one that I needed and the one I deserved: Shut up, Nimra.
At that moment, it only added to my confusion. Bringing people to God seemed so right to me then.
Many years fast forward and I was in F.Sc. And strangely, from that moment of grade 1 or 2 till completing my F.Sc., I met no Christian schoolmate or college mate. And I had absolutely no interfaith social interaction. So much so, that by the time I entered Kinnaird, the non-Muslim people had become Others for me- people you hear about, but not see; people you read in the newspaper about, but who are not your neighbours; people you feel pity on, but not affinity with.
And then came the Kinnaird experience. Where having Christian friends and classmates was the norm. And I also made some Christian friends. Apart from shattering the Wall in the North, which let Others come into my life- it broke many barriers of perception within me too. Finally, interfaith interaction was an experience I was having in real life with real people. And I observed it.
Both of my close Christian friends are welcoming and really amiable; both like to greet by kissing on cheeks; and both mostly wear proper shalwar kameez and dupatta.
I was initially surprised by this; only Muslim women have been enjoined to be this modest, why didn’t my Christian friends feel free to be fashionable as they liked? (Being stupid is my default state of mind, if you noticed). They might have come to like the culture they were brought up in, or they might have adopted conformity as a survival strategy. I don’t know. This time I didn’t ask.
Once while we were revising for our Pak Studies exam, I remember mulling on what my Christian friends thought of the Two-Nation theory or our Islamic ideology or the fact that they could never be the heads of state of Pakistan.
Once while I was being critical of the Islamization brought on by Zia, and the Hudood Ordinance, I ranted for a full hour- while my Christian friends said nothing. They did not want to even mistakenly utter something that could later be used against them. I remember feeling embarrassed.
Another day, I was ranting on about what the religious right had done to Islam along with self-righteous mullahs and the CII- and my Christian friends only smiled in return.
And once, while I was talking to one of them about the Quran, she said that she had read much of it-and knew many surahs by heart. I remember being astonished. And I asked “How?”
“Because I studied Islamiyat along with my other classmates, Nimra.”
She then told me that once, for better preparation, she had borrowed a Quran from her Muslim friend. And when her mother found out, she told her to return it the very next day. And I asked, “Why?” She said that her mother was scared that someone might accuse them of blasphemy. I remember being ashamed of my ‘Muslim privilege’. I could keep a Bible in my home without the fear of being lynched, but she could not keep a Quran.
Once, while we were talking about cricket, she humorously told me how her family turns against her if she claims to support any team playing against Pakistan.
And once when I received a text from her saying ‘Eid Mubarak’, I remember feeling abashed because I had forgotten to wish her ‘Merry Christmas’.
I also remember once talking about the problems of Pakistan- and one of my Christian friends saying that the best option would be to leave Pakistan because it was not worth living in. I remember feeling stung with pain. And I didn’t need to ponder why she had said that. Through slight insinuations and observations, I have come to see their world of difficulties and their dilemma of identity. It’s something that we do not think about, talk about or empathize with. And my friends still belong to the educated section of the society. What about the uneducated non-Muslims? What about the Christian sweeper of my street whom I have never actually met? Some nights when sleep evades me, I try to imagine their worlds. And they turn out to be not pretty at all. Sometimes, I think what patriotism or nationalist identity means to them. Sometimes I think what Palestine and Kashmir mean to them. And sometimes, I think what I mean to them. I haven’t asked.
I have seen many fellow citizens say, “Pakistan ne humein diya hi kya hai?” I often wonder if they have asked this same question too.
Or I wonder if any ignorant adult-child has also ever said to them, “Why don’t you become a Muslim?”
I know that I have not interacted with the majority of non-Muslim Pakistanis or even Pakistani Christians. I know some might not be limited by fear or social boundaries. I know some might not want to leave Pakistan. And I know some might even be daring enough to criticize the Mullah.
But this piece is not a research paper backed by statistics and interviews and polls. It’s a natural and human experience of a Muslim girl in a Muslim-majority country.
I believe that much of our prejudices and bigotry come from not having enough social interaction with the others of the society- with the minority, the marginalized, the oppressed, the misunderstood, the ostracized. Had I been friends with non-Muslim children from childhood, this experience wouldn’t have been so novel for me- and many misconceptions that I harbored wouldn’t have been in the first place.
For every injustice and systematic marginalization that my Christian friends face, I often try to be extra nice to them. I often try to be extra sweet or extra polite to somewhat make up for what bigotry they have been facing from the society at large since childhood- a system that is explicitly designed to keep them from the top; that keeps them at a distance.
But doing my part is not enough until we all do our parts. Until we all try to embrace the non-Muslims around us. Until we all try to mould ourselves into a unified whole. Until the day that having a Christian or a Sikh friend is no longer novel for a Muslim child in Pakistan. And until the day our Christian friends are not afraid to read or keep the Quran if they like. Until the day they can at least express themselves more freely on laws that are specifically designed to keep them at bay. Let’s strive to bring that day closer.
Until then, I’ll just try not to think of the exclusion that my Christian friends have faced whenever one of them musters enough love -despite the hatred that they might have received- to give me a peck on the cheek.