On February 15, 1983, a wireless message went out from the officer in charge of the Nagaon police station in Assam. It read:
 

“INFORMATION RECEIVED THAT LAST NIGHT ABOUT ONE THOUSAND ASSAMESE PEOPLE OF SURROUNDING VILLAGES OF NELLIE ARMED WITH DEADLY WEAPONS ASSEMBLED AT NELLIE BY BEATING OF DRUMS (.) MINORITY PEOPLE ARE IN PANIC AND APPREHENDING ATTACK AT ANY MOMENT (.) SUBMISSION FOR IMMEDIATE ACTION TO MAINTAIN PEACE.”
 

Three days later, the crowd moved in. On the morning of February 18, Nellie and 13 nearby villages were surrounded by mobs wielding country guns and machetes. For more than six hours, between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon, they killed around 1,800 people. The unofficial toll counts 3,000 dead.

But why was the local administration not able to prevent the massacre despite intimations of unrest?
 

Commissions of enquiry

In the aftermath of the violence, the state government took the tried and tested route. It set up a Commission of Enquiry on the Assam Disturbances in July 1983, headed by TP Tewary, an officer in the Indian Administrative Service. The terms of the enquiry were: “to look into the circumstances” leading to the violence that spanned from January to April 1983, “to examine the measures taken by the concerned authorities to anticipate, prevent and deal with these disturbances”, and “to suggest measures to prevent the recurrence of such incidents”.

The commission produced a sprawling, 547-page report in May 1984, having interviewed hundreds of witnesses as well as state officials. But the many layers of forgetting that fell upon Nellie also buried the report. It was never tabled in the state Assembly. For decades, its contents remained a closely guarded secret, with a few photocopies circulating among activist groups. It was only in the last few years, after an application under the Right to Information Act was filed by the Centre for Equity Studies, that the contents of the report entered the public domain.

The report concludes: “It is entirely unwarranted to give a communal colour to the incidents under enquiry.” It is at pains to argue that the motivations of the violence that occured in a three-month period were rooted in conflicts over land, language and ethnicity, in Assam’s old struggle to eject the “outsider” and restore the homeland of its “original inhabitants”.

It points out that in some parts of Assam, Muslims were the aggressors and Hindus the victims. In some areas, Bengali Hindus and Muslims banded together to attack Assamese villages. In other areas, there were clashes between tribal groups and ethnic Assamese. “If there is a Nellie there is also a Chamaria or a Malibari,” the report says, referring to incidents where Assamese Hindus had been attacked.

The violence that engulfed the state in those three months grew out of the Assam Movement. Launched by the All Assam Students Union in 1979, the agitation was aimed at “illegal Bangladeshi immigrants” who had migrated to the state in waves, settling on land that was in short supply and entering electoral rolls. Matters came to a head when the government scheduled Assembly elections in 1983, prompting the AASU to step up its agitation and call for a boycott. It divided the population into two camps, those who supported elections and those who did not, and violent clashes erupted.

But another story also emerges from the testimonies recorded in the Tewary Commission, that of an administration trying to account for itself and failing. However, the commission tries to direct attention to cases of individual guilt. For that fateful morning in Nellie, at least, the report narrows responsibility down to three specific officers.
 

February 18, 1983

In Nagaon district , where Nellie is located, the elections had been scheduled for February 14. About 40% of the district’s inhabitants were Muslim, many of them immigrants. The Assam agitation had shaded into extremist violence here, and the AASU had come into conflict with the All Assam Minority Students Union. The district had seen blasts and clashes in the three years leading up to the elections. So when the government decided to go ahead with polls, the deputy commissioner expected violence.

The administration was prepared, he said, with polling stations divided into three categories – “safe”, “moderately safe” and “unsafe”. There were preventive arrests of more than 1,000 people and 22 persons were detained under the draconian National Security Act. On February 16, the army was asked to help with law and order in certain areas of the district.

What, then, went wrong? The Tewary commission traces it to the wireless message sent on February 15. The officer in charge at Nagaon sending it had omitted to inform the deputy commissioner and the superintendent of police. So the district control room, located in Nagaon, remained in the dark. But the Tewary commission pins the blame on the three recipients of that message.

They included the commandant of the 5th Assam Police Battalion, who was also in charge of law and order in Morigaon, the subdivisional police officer of Morigaon, and the officer in charge of the Jagiroad police station. All three denied receiving the message, which was delivered to the officer’s wife in one case, languished on a table in the other and in a “put up basket” in the third.

But there was another intimation of impending violence. The same day, Hindu inhabitants of the village had complained to the deputy superintendent that they feared an attack. KPS Gill, then inspector general of police in Assam, had asked the Jagiroad officer in charge to patrol the area and form a peace committee.

On February 17, the officer had visited Borbori, one of the 14 villages that would be hit by violence. Residents there had asked him to post armed police at the spot but he declined, later saying he did not have enough men. The report refutes this claim, pointing out that reinforcements had arrived in time.

The next day, he got word of trouble in Nellie at 10.54am but chose to send two platoons of the Central Reserve Police Force. He followed hours later, claiming he did not know a path to the village. He also said he was forced to stop and rescue drowning persons in a river on the way. A barely veiled note of amusement enters the report at this point: “On that day, within a period of three hours he is supposed to have rescued two hundred drowning persons, indeed a miraculous task.”

The subdivisional police officer of Morigaon was also notified about the violence at 12.30 pm on February 18 but merely passed the message on to his colleague in Jagiroad. It is not clear what lapses the commandant was guilty of, apart from neglecting to check his mail.

The officer in charge at Jagiroad was suspended and the government ordered disciplinary action against him. The subdivisional police officer from Morigaon was suspended for 10 days but then reinstated. There is no record of action taken against the commandant.

For the deputy commissioner and the superintendent of police, the report has praise: their performance was “in keeping with the high traditions of public services”.
 

A few bad men?

Could the tragic events at Nellie been avoided if the three men had “been more careful with their dak (letters)”? For the most part, the Tewary commission exonerates the law and order machinery: “There were lapses of individuals but the system worked well.”
Yet its own findings contradict this statement. In almost every district, it is the same story – trouble starts with the AASU declaring a boycott and extremist offshoots of the agitation implementing it with violence. Roads were blocked, bridges blown up and phone lines cut. Isolated police officers, short of vehicles and unable to communicate, found itself unable to contain largescale violence. What system, exactly, was working well?

Disciplinary action, if it was taken at all, was largely restricted to mid- or lower-level officials. The report admits that “Lower formations of the police had a soft corner for the agitation.” Many of them were Assamese, and in some places they had suffered directly from the violence. Besides, four years of policing the agitation had frayed nerves and “demoralised” the police force. When elections were declared, many were reluctant to turn up for poll duty.

In Goalpara district, one senior official admitted that “certain administrative actions”, such as mass suspensions and physically forcing government servants to election duty, could have contributed to the violence. Indeed, it was in Goalpara that members of the Assam Police Battalion shot two sentries guarding a polling station on February 16. A crossfire had then ensued between the battalion and the CRPF, killing personnel on both sides. The incident had played a large part in undermining law and order.

Who is to bear responsibility for sending out disaffected, ill-equipped men to deal with raging mobs, for pressing forward with elections even though there were large-scale strikes among government employees? The Tewary report gives a clean chit to the state administration, even defending its decision to hold elections at that volatile moment. It also makes scant mention of the Centre, which was largely absent.

Yet in the years that followed, 688 first information reports were filed for the Nellie massacre, resulting in just 299 chargesheets and no prosecution – the state administration had not thought it necessary to press for justice. And then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was later asked why she had not responded promptly to the Nellie massacre. “One has to let such events take their course before stepping in,” she replied.

Grimly prescient words, given the events which followed the prime minister’s own death in Delhi 1984.

This article was first published on Scroll.in

Every few years, the question is raised of the Haj subsidy given by the government to Muslim pilgrims flying to Mecca on state-owned Air India – whether it should continue, whether it is financially viable, whether it compromises India’s secular credentials. The Haj is a journey Muslims are enjoined to make at least once in their lifetimes to the Saudi Arabian city of Mecca, which is considered sacred in Islam.

Now, just after Saudi Arabia increased its quota of the number of Indians who will be permitted to make the pilgrimage for the first time in three decades, the minority affairs ministry has formed a committee to reconsider the subsidy. The government said it was following up on the Supreme Court order of 2012, which dictated that the subsidy should be phased out in 10 years.

There have been questions about the way in which the subsidy is administered. It has been claimed that funds routed through the Haj Committee to various community leaders were distributed as political largesse. Some say that there have been various irregularities in the flow of cash. Others contend that the subsidy is no subsidy at all but merely a transfer of funds from one part of the state machinery to the other: people availing of the subsidy travel to Saudi Arabia on the national carrier, Air India. The pilgrims fly out from Mumbai and in 2016 were given a concession of Rs 45,000 for their airfare.

Over the last decade, the Haj subsidy it was seen as part of the United Progressive Alliance government’s policy of outreach to Muslims, thought there have been voices of criticism from within the community. This week, the All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen president Asaduddin Owaisi said the money for the subsidy – believed to total Rs 450 crore at present – would be better spent on the education of Muslim girls.
 

Not just the haj

While these objections to the Haj need to be considered, what has passed without scrutiny is the fact that India also spends money on a raft of pilgrimages, directly or indirectly.

Chief among these are the four Kumbh Melas, held in Haridwar, Allahabad, Nashik and Ujjain. Millions of people attend each fair. To ensure that they go off smoothly, Central funds are routed through state governments to pay for constructions on the mela grounds, facilities for pilgrims and security. In 2014, for instance, the Centre spent about Rs 1,150 crore and the Uttar Pradesh government Rs 11 crore on the Allahabad Kumbh. Of this, Opposition parties alleged that Rs 800 crore had been misused.

Last year, the Union culture ministry also set aside Rs 100 crore to be granted to the Madhya Pradesh for the Simhastha Mahakumbh, which is held in once in 12 years in Ujjain. The state government had already spent Rs 3,400 crore on the event.

Other pilgrimages attracting Central funds include the Kailash Manasarovar Yatra, which involves an arduous trek from North India into the mountains of Tibet. The yatra is organised by the government, which spends money on security and health facilities for the pilgrims.

Meanwhile, several states have explicit subsidies earmarked for various pilgrimages or religious events. Chhattisgarh, Delhi, Gujarat, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh and Uttarakhand provide money to residents going on the Manasarovar yatra to cover a part of the expenses, which amount to about Rs 1.5 lakh each. The Madhya Pradesh government subsidises a range of pilgrimages for senior citizens and their attendants under the Mukhyamantri Tirtha Darshan Yojana, including visits to Ayodhya, Mathura, the birthplace of Sant Kabir and St Thomas Church in Kerala.

In Jammu and Kashmir, the Amarnath Shrine Board was set up by an act passed by the state assembly in 2000. Headed by the governor, who is aided by senior civil servants from the national and state administrative services, the board is responsible for “developmental activities” on the shrine and its environs, the “payment of suitable emoluments to the salaried staff”, constructing accommodation for pilgrims and other allied activities.
 

What of Article 27?

Pilgrimages in India involve mass movements of people, tremendous pressures on the site of the event and security concerns. Horror stories about stampedes and casualties frequently accompany the rituals of worship. Given the circumstances, government involvement in the arrangements seems unavoidable – even necessary. Subsidies for individual pilgrims, on the other hand, seem to depend on the political priorities of the government concerned.

All of these public expenditures, however, could be said to contravene Article 27 of the Constitution, which stipulates that “No person shall be compelled to pay any taxes, the proceeds of which are specifically appropriated in payment of expenses for the promotion or maintenance of any particular religion or religions denomination.”

As the Supreme Court itself pointed out in its 2012 judgment, we cannot be “oblivious of the fact that in many other purely religious events there are direct and indirect deployment of state funds and state resource”. Curiously enough, these expenses on pilgrimages other than the Haj have rarely been attended by concerns about thrift and secularism.

Courtesy: Scroll.in
 

Image credit:  AFP

On Friday, Manipur quietly slipped into the 74th day of an economic blockade that has paralysed the state. And there seems no end in sight. The ethnic Naga groups blocking two major highways demand tripartite talks with the Centre and the state government. But the Congress government led by Chief Minister Okram Ibobi Singh seems to be in no mood to negotiate.

The economic blockade was launched on November 1 by the United Naga Council, a conglomeration of Naga groups. They were protesting against the Manipur government’s decision to carve out seven new districts in the hill areas, splitting up older districts dominated by members of the Thangkul Naga group. As the supply of fuel and other essential commodities was cut off, prices shot up and economic activity was hit badly. The pains of the blockade were made worse by demonetisation, which dried up flows of cash.

In retaliation, residents of the Valley belonging to the Meitei ethnic group launched a counter-blockade, blocking the road between Imphal and Ukhrul, one of the Naga-dominated hill districts. Matters came to a head on December 18, when Meitei mobs torched vehicles headed to Ukhrul, a day after members of the same community had stormed a church in Imphal.

“They have misinterpreted us,” said Seth Shatsang, president of the All Naga Students Association of Manipur, recently detained for his role in the blockade. “Instead of asking why an economic blockade has been imposed, they are asking why Nagas are trying to kill Manipuris through starvation. The government of Manipur will have to why [it created the seven districts], some acceptable settlement must be reached. Only then then will we lift the blockade.”

The new districts, he said, struck at the integrity of Naga areas. “The target of the blockade is that Naga ancestral land should not be sliced up,” said Shatsang. “Land is sacrosanct to us. Let the world brand Naga people as inhuman, we cannot let it go.”

Manipur districts. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

In Imphal valley

All parts of the state have been affected by either the blockade or the counter-blockade, some have been affected by both. The Imphal valley, ringed by hills, has been choked by the highway blockades.

National Highway 2, passing through Kohima in Nagaland, and National Highway 37, through Jiribam on the border with Assam, the two roads connecting the valley with the outside world, ferry essential goods into the state.

Trucks loaded with supplies have started entering the valley through the Jiribam route under heavy security cover. But problems remain. “The roads are not good,” said Rajiv Hijam, editor of the Sangai Express, a newspaper based in Imphal. “There are two bridges on the way that can’t carry the load.”

Even though supplies have started trickling in, prices are high – gas cylinders are now selling for Rs 1,500, up from Rs 700. “We have stopped using cooking gas,” said Renu Takhelambam, who lives in Imphal. “We use charcoal or electric cookers instead.” Vegetables remain expensive. Potatotes that sold for Rs 20 can now be bought for Rs 40-Rs 45.

Fuel shortages have hit everyday life in various ways. “You can still see long queues at night outside petrol pumps,” said Hijam of the Sangai Express. “They are waiting for fuel that will be delivered the next day.” Long-distance buses from Imphal to Guwahati, Dimapur and other major cities of the North East were stalled for weeks after the clashes of December 18, as were direct buses to Senapati in the hills. Local transport costs have also soared. Rs 20 auto rides now cost Rs 30.

The Imphal-Ukhrul blockade has had an impact on many things. Takhelambam, who works with the Extra Judicial Execution Victim Families Association and is fighting for judicial redress for human rights violations by the state, claimed that legal proceedings were held up. “Families from Ukhrul and Tamenglong districts [both in the hills and dominated by the Thangkul Nagas] have not been able to come to Imphal,” she said.
 

In the hills

The hill areas are now largely cut off from Imphal. The Meitei blockade is said to have eased after December 18, partly because of the intercession of civil society groups and partly because of heavy security on the route, local residents claimed.

“The counter blockade is not so well organised,” said Hijam. “In different pockets of the valley, local people may come out [to block roads].” But according to John Pamei, originally from Tamnglong and a member of the Zeliang-rong Students Union, there were still sporadic incidents of vehicle burning on the route.

Ashim Pearl, who lives in Ukhrul town, said people were too scared to travel, venturing out only in case of emergencies. “The incident of December 18 is still ingrained in the minds of people,” she said.

While private transport is running on the route, public transport cannot go directly from Imphal to Ukhrul. “You have to come up to a point in Meitei vehicles,” said Pearl. “After a point, when you reach Thangkul territory, you have to change.”

Prices have gone up here as well – LPG cylinders can sell for as much as Rs 2,000 and petrol that was once Rs 60 per litre can now be bought for Rs 90 in black. “But they are not hiked up as much as in the valley,” said Pearl. “Civil society organisations and student bodies are trying to control it.”
 

In Churachandpur

Churachandpur is at the edge of the valley, just before the hills begin. This town was the epicentre of protests against three bills passed by the Manipur government in 2015, which led to fresh rancour between the people of the hills and those in the valley. This time, it is relatively quiet but has been affected by both blockades.

Mary Beth Sanate, a women’s rights activist based in the town, says many essential supplies have been brought in from Mizoram, which is nearby. Some goods have also come in from the Jiribam route. Prices have still shot up. Gas cylinders have gone up from Rs 680 to Rs 3,000, petroleum to Rs 120 from Rs 66, diesel to Rs 90 from Rs 63, onions from Rs 30 to Rs 60, Sanate said.

With shortages in goods coming from Imphal, residents of Churachandpur fell back on local products. “We have rice, pork, dal and chilli,” said Ninglun Hanghal, a freelance journalist in the town.

Livelihoods have been hit. Construction work had stopped because of high fuel costs, said Sanate, putting daily labourers out of a job. Small shopkeepers are also struggling. Supplies are scarce because of the blockade. Even if they do come in, demonetisation has meant nobody has money to buy them, especially at such high prices.

The normal rhythms of life have been affected. Students studying in various parts of the country could not go home for the holidays because of the transport disruptions and the festive season was muted. “There was no Christmas this year, no festivities” said Hanghal. “I saw only a few shoppers on the 24th. Usually the streets are crowded.”

But for the people of Manipur, such hardships have become familiar. Only in 2011, the state saw 123 days of blockades and counter-blockades by Naga and Kuki groups, though Pamei claims those were restricted to the highways and did not hit inter-district traffic. “Blockades are nothing new in Manipur,” said Takhelambam. “We face this every time. This time we have not completed 100 days yet.”

Courtesy: Scroll.in

 

Dhulagarh, a small town 25 kms west of Kolkata, is sectioned off between parties. At the Shiv Kali temple on the Puratan Chowrasta, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh and other Hindu groups are organising “traan” or relief for people who lost their homes in the communal violence that broke out two weeks ago. This is an arterial road, leading into the Dhulagarh bazaar. A flurry of Congress, Forward Bloc and Shiv Sena flags jostle for attention when you enter the road. Then they give way to Shiv Sena flags, planted at regular intervals.

Muslim leaders from the Trinamool Congress will not venture here. To find them, you must travel a few kilometres down the road, into the bylanes of Dewanghat and Jairampur, localities bordering the main town. The tricoloured flowers of the Trinamool start appearing in these parts.

Last Saturday, a team from the Bharatiya Janata Party was barred from visiting the area, leading to angry accusations that the state government was trying to cover up incidents of communal violence. On Wednesday, Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee told reporters “nothing has happened” in Dhulagarh.

Indeed, at first glance, this nondescript town in West Bengal’s Howrah district appears calm, with autos juddering down the road and shops in the main market open for business. But then they catch the eye – the groups of security personnel and police vans stationed on the road to enforce Section 144, the charred remains of what were once shops – signs of a place that has recently seen violence.

Forward bloc and Shiv Sena flags jostle for space near the Dhulagarh crossing.
 

Past the Annapurna Club

Both communities tell the same story, with a few significant differences. Around 11 am on December 13, the annual procession to celebrate Milad un Nabi, the Prophet’s birthday, was passing through the town. Trouble began when it reached the Annapurna Club, a local landmark.

According to Shamsher Ali Lashkar, Panchla block secretary of the Trinamool Congress and a resident of Jairampur, the clubhouse is controlled by the Bajrang Dal. People gathered at the Shib Kali temple say it is a regular community club.

“About 15 to 20 boys towards the end of procession were caught by the boys at the Annapurna Club,” said Lashkar. The boys in the procession were asked to chant the names of Hindu gods and when they resisted, a scuffle broke out. “The club boys threw bombs and bricks, people were injured and the rally dispersed,” claimed Lashkar. “Then they burnt and looted Muslim shops in Dewanghat.”

Local RSS leaders have a different explanation for the fight. “There was a funeral near Annapurna Club and the procession was playing loud songs, misbehaving with girls,” said Subhendu Sarkar, a district leader of the RSS. “When they were stopped, a fight broke out. An hour later, they started throwing bombs, targeting Hindu houses in Jairampur and Dewanghat.”

Later, in the heat of the moment, a few Muslim shops were burnt, Sarkar admitted. By afternoon, the police had moved in.

Shops in Dewanghat burnt in the violence

Both communities knew there was trouble by the sound of the crude bombs. In Banerjeepara, Kanchan Mallya heard them going off in the bazaar. “I was in the garden,” she said. “I saw the neighbour’s house was on fire and went out into the street.” But as she went out into street, she saw her own house attacked with bricks and then set alight.

In Jairampur, Nasrin Mridha was home with her mother; her father had gone out of town on work. “I knew things were heated so I locked the house and sat inside,” she said. “It was at 2 pm on December 13. They came and asked if anyone was inside. When they could not get in, they smashed things outside. The RAF [Rapid Action Force] did it. There were two Bajrang Dal people with kerchiefs around their heads. They were pointing the forces to the houses.”

Lashkar echoed accusations against the RAF. “That night, they came and beat up people, took pictures of the girls, broke the houses that were already pillaged.”

Sumit Kumar, Howrah superintendent (rural), said the police were only trying to arrest the culprits. “On December 13, many shops were burnt,” he said. “‘The police had gone to raid and to arrest. If the ladies at home claim it is harassment when we go to make arrests, you can interpret it as you wish.”

The next day, the rioters returned in large number. According to Sarkar, there was a rallying call at the local mosque and soon crowds attacked the Dhulagarh bazaar with bombs. “Then Hindu boys ran out to protest,” he said. Lashkar alleged they were Bajrang Dal workers. He also alleged that, as they looted and plundered for four hours on the morning of December 14, the police stayed away. In separate reports, Dhulagarh residents claimed the police gave them a few minutes to leave their houses rather than warding off the vandals.

The police, on their part, say they were outnumbered and unable to contain the violence. “There was heavy bombing, DSP [Deputy Superintendent of Police] was injured and several constables were also injured,” said Kumar.
 

Empty houses

Dhulagarh and its surroundings are now strewn with empty houses, both Muslim and Hindu. In Jairampur, Anis ur-Rahman’s house lies deserted. Doors have been ripped off and shattered glass lies on the floor of rooms that have been stripped bare.

Most of the men from Muslim households there had fled after violence broke out on December 13, Lashkar said. The next day, the women left too, taking refuge in relatives’ houses in neighbouring villages. Only in the last three or four days have people started returning. But the area is deserted in the evenings, as people clear off the streets and move into areas of safety for the night.

The shops in Dewanghat, just down the road, are still shut. Zari work is the main source of livelihood in Dhulagarh. In recent years, many have shifted to machine embroidery. The rioters ransacked workshops and destroyed equipment worth lakhs of rupees, residents say.

Meanwhile, at the Puratan Chowrasta, the RSS has gathered Hindu families at the Shib Kali temple. “The VHP [Vishwa Hindu Parishad] and the RSS have arranged relief,” announced Sarkar. “Many Hindu families are now staying at the temple.” Meals are also being served here.

Kanchan Mallya, whose husband is a zari worker, sits at the temple, her belongings gathered in a bucket. Over the past fortnight, she has been living with her sister in Nimtala. “They took my gold and all the utensils,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “All our documents were destroyed in the fire. We had Rs 600 in cash, that was also burnt.”

The government, she said, had given her a cheque for Rs 35,000 as compensation, but the money was held up because the cheque was in her husband’s name but the account was in hers.

Ransacked room in Anis ur-Rahman's house.
 

Men from outside

Both communities now tell stories of violence that seem to draw from old cultural stereotypes. The Hindu attackers used arrows, say Muslim families. The Muslims came with swords, say Hindus.

“The house was on fire, we took the children and hid under the bed upstairs,” said Lakshmi Mallya. “They came up, and said ‘everyone’s here’. Then they held a sword to my daughter’s throat, said nobody speak a word, just go downstairs and stand quietly.”
Changing politics have worked a certain bitterness between communities, Lashkar claimed. The RSS has had a presence in Dhulagarh for decades, he elaborated, but over the last two or three years, organisations such as the Bajrang Dal had come into the picture, training armies of young boys. “If anything happens, they turn it into a communal matter,” he said.

Yet, in the temple on the main road, local residents claimed this was “Trinamool para (Trinamool country)”, suggesting the ruling party held sway. Sarkar, for his part, claimed the attacks were planned by “desperate” men and large quantities of eplosive RDX were found in Muslim households.

Hindu groups arrange for relief at a local temple.

For all the political bitterness, residents cannot remember any major incident of communal violence in these parts. A few speak of trouble over an auto that had overturned in the market, some 30 years ago. Others dimly recall a minor scuffle around a puja, maybe 10 or 12 years ago. But most say that in their area, at least, relations have always been good. Most localities are mixed, with Hindus and Muslim houses standing close together.

“We had [Muslim] neighbours,” said Lakshmi Mallya. “They are good. When we did not have water, we would drink water from their taps. We used to go to their house, they used to come to ours.”

The violence of December 13 and 14 is seen as a disruptive force, quite out of character with their locality. “They came from elsewhere,” said Archit Mallya, Lakshmi Mallya’s husband, of the mobs that attacked his house. “They hired people from outside.”

This article was first published on Scroll.in