Author: Gautam Chikermane
Publication: The Indian Express
Date: March 17, 2008
URL: http://www.indianexpress.com/story/285219.html
Introduction: What held him back was not his
own faith
We may be Muslims, saab, but we cannot cut
this peepal tree. His name is Rahim and his band of workers sound Muslim too.
The carpenter - Maulana saab. The painters - Abdul and Ismail. The plumber
- Yaqub. I didn't hire him because of who he was (or who he thinks he is)
but because he's a competent contractor. And among the many other jobs that
a house needs, cutting the peepal tree on the terrace of our landlord's apartment
was one. The tree, like thousands on Delhi buildings and millions across north
India, was a hazard to the building. My generally invisible neighbours brought
it to my notice. The tree had to go. Period.
Which faith considered the peepal holy and
whose adherents would not cut it, was no concern of mine. Likewise, the fact
that Rahim was a Muslim meant nothing to me while negotiating the tree job
at hand. Besides, if the contractor was a Hindu and had refused, I may not
have been surprised. But Rahim is a Muslim. I told him as much. "We may
be Muslims but our culture is not and we cannot cut that tree," was his
reply. "Get another one, for your god's sake," I said, exasperated.
"Will do."
In a country that's constantly sitting on
a short fuse of religion, the somewhat uncooperative Rahim stood like an icon
of unity. His belief system goes beyond religion. He is proud to be a Muslim
(the Namaaz breaks, for instance) but is equally proud of his cultural heritage
and his stubborn refusal to cut the peepal. Behind his inability and unwillingness
to cut the peepal lies a deep-rooted conservatism that's simultaneously sublime.
If Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev talks about outdated superstitions - the cat crossing
the road, for instance - and how we need to contemporise our belief systems,
Rahim is a simple soul for whom superstition is the glue that bonds him with
a Hindu.
Two days later the tree was cut. "Three
small trees, saab," Rahim said and showed me three trees, one trouble-making
5-inch thick trunk, and two smaller ones. I looked into his eyes. A hint of
victory, a sense of accomplishment, a satisfaction of a job well done within
constraints that go beyond the job. "Good work," I said. He folded
his hands and smiled.