Ayodhya verdict: Not a Hindu-Muslim problem, but a matter of restoring faith

Like most other nonagenarians, Hashim Ansari is counting his days. But the old man has a burning desire and takes every opportunity to declare it to anyone who is interested. “I will not breathe my last before hearing the judgment,” he says earnestly.

Hashim is, of course, referring to the Ayodhya title suit in which he is the oldest surviving petitioner.

A special three-judge bench of the Allahabad high court will declare on September 24 whether the disputed land in Ayodhya belongs to a temple or a mosque.

“Perhaps this case is the reason I have lived so long,” Hashim, 90, says light-heartedly. Despite his age and frail health, he has been regular in attending hearings in the court in Lucknow, about 130km away.

With the verdict in sight, Hashim’s one-room ramshackle house has suddenly become one of the most favoured destinations in this holy city for journalists, police and intelligence officials. The house was burnt down in the aftermath of the December 1992 demolition.

“My Hindu brothers helped me put it back in shape,” he says. A signboard outside the house reads Babri Masjid Punarnirman Samiti (reconstruction committee), as if specifying the obsession of its occupant.

The old man, dressed in a lungi-kurta and white topi, seems ever willing to talk about his 60-year-long legal journey (since 1950 when the first of the five title suits was filed). He is full of anecdotes about how he and the late Paramhans Ramchandra Das, one of the main parties in the original title suit, used to share a rickshaw to the court for hearings. “We used to come out of the court and have tea together,” he says. “You see, the problem is not Hindu versus Muslim… it’s a matter which will restore our faith in the system,” he asserts, looking wistfully at an old framed photograph of Babri Masjid hanging on the wall facing him.

A tailor by profession, Hashim knows the importance of keeping the threads of a syncretic culture together. “I have been fighting this case for 60 years but that has made no difference to my personal relations with my Hindu friends. I often go to their homes… they wished me on Eid and had sewain with me.”

Hashim was also great friends with the late Ram Kewal Das of Nirmohi Akhada, the main petitioner in one of the title suits. Even today, he discusses the matter with Mahant Bhaskar Das, who appears in court on behalf of Nirmohi Akhada. “Peace and brotherhood are more important than mandir or masjid,” he says.

Apart from his secular credentials, people in Ayodhya hold Hashim in high esteem because he never mixed religion with politics. A local journalist tells me he has no regular means of income and his son drives a taxi but he shunned lucrative offers from political parties. There is also a story about how one such messenger had to scram after Hashim threatened to beat him up.

But the feisty fighter’s spirits seem to be sagging now. All the talk about impending communal strife (after the verdict) and the build-up of paramilitary forces in Ayodhya saddens him.

“I don’t feel good about this,” he says pointing at a police picket deployed recently outside his house. He feels like a prisoner in his own home. Perhaps this old man is not alone. Considering the circumstances, it’s a feeling all the people living in this sacred city would share.