Of matters divine and mortal

Dusk has hovered over Ayodhya for decades, yielding occasionally to twilight or dawn, but never to a clearly lit day. To the outside world, it is a small town of big troubles. To its residents, it is a habitation dwarfed under the shadow of its most famous son, Ram—beloved deity of Hindus and avatar of Vishnu, the preserver of the world.

Even 27 years after the razing of the mosque that stood on the spot that has now been adjudged as Ram Janmbhumi by the Supreme Court, fear runs deep among Ayodhya’s Muslims. It is not a fear of the Lord or of their Hindu neighbours, but a fear of what frenzies outsiders might unleash on their town, as they did in 1992. Many Muslims weave the marigold flowers that are offered in the temples of Ayodhya. Some fashion and polish the wooden, strapless footwear (khadaus) favoured by the men of religion who live in Ayodhya’s narrow lanes and countless temples. This is neither peculiar nor unusual in a temple town. The difference lies in a staunch refusal to speak about it under a discomforting spotlight. “Work is work. It brings money. It allows a living. But the moment you speak about it your own people accuse you of being traitors,” said a Muslim shopkeeper.

That such a fear lives on might be difficult to fathom as one sits before Kalyan Singh, who was Uttar Pradesh chief minister when the Babri mosque was brought down. The fire in Singh’s voice has long yielded to age. He refuses to answer most questions, asking one to instead read reports from his address to the media two days after the verdict was delivered. “It is a very good verdict.” he tells THE WEEK. “A Trust will be formed for the construction of the mandir. ”

Singh’s acceptance of the verdict is not one that is shared by those who have nurtured the struggle for the temple. One of the most prominent voices among these is that of Nritya Gopal Das, chairperson of the Ram Janmbhumi Nyas trust. While there are suggestions that the new trust entrusted with building the temple be bereft of government representation, he dismisses the very need for any separate trust. “Modi and Yogi will get the temple constructed,” he says. “That is all I know.”

His faith in the political dispensation of the day has a touch of fatality. In matters of faith, perhaps, such fatality is inevitable. But it is this faith that is fuelling questions about the verdict.

Zafaryab Jilani, senior lawyer who represented the All India Muslim Personal Law Board (AIMPLB) in the suit, is among the prominent voices that have questioned the verdict. While a meeting of AIMPLB is scheduled in Lucknow on November 17 to chalk out a course of action, Jilani, who is also secretary of the board, says: “Justice has not been delivered. The fight for justice must go on. This is not a matter of personal gain but of rule of law. My (Muslims’) land has been given to others after accepting that they have been offering namaz on that land. What is the basis of this decision?”

Within Ayodhya and its larger neighbour Faizabad, more mundane considerations have gained urgency. Amit Ghai, an automobile dealership owner in Faizabad, is enthused by what the verdict could mean for business, especially as it signals the end of what he calculates has been an average loss of 40 business days in a year owing to law and order clampdowns. “There are endless possibilities, for instance, in agro-based industries such as paper and animal feed,” says Ghai. After the verdict was announced, he has helped three friends finalise land deals in Faizabad to build a dharamshala, a hospital and a hotel. Land prices, he estimates, have seen a jump of 15-20 per cent.

Sharad Chandra Kapoor, a hotel owner in Faizabad, says that he is looking to add suites to his property. “After the demolition, there was a deluge of curious people for two-three months. Then business was negatively impacted. No one wanted to invest here,” he says. The young of the cities are hopeful that the verdict and the peace it might ensure will bring in malls and multiplexes, and more jobs.

An expansion of these immediate benefits is offered by K.N. Govindacharya, a former RSS pracharak and once the most outspoken of its ideologues. “Since 2000, hindutva is the mainstream political ideology.” he says. “The English translation for this is Hinduness and not Hinduism. The pseudo secularism that ruled from 1950 to 2000 equated secularism with non-religiosity instead of equal respect to all modes of worship. This verdict is both a challenge and an opportunity for the establishment of Ram Rajya, which is nothing but eco-centric development.”

Vinay Katiyar, another stringent but now rarely heard voice of the temple movement, offers a quiet response to whether the verdict sets the template for movements in Kashi and Mathura. “There are no plans for now,” says the five-time MP. “Let us first concentrate on the construction of the Ram Mandir.”

Some in Ayodhya hail the verdict for its potential to free the town of the stranglehold of the seers and the akharas as well as the treachery of guides. Says Ram Tirath Varma, research officer of the Ayodhya Research Institute: “These men of religion have more power than politicians. The guides mislead the tourists by selling complete lies. It is a nexus where many have profited. The verdict will hopefully make things systematic and restore some of Ayodhya’s grandeur.”

All these are, however, just hopes. It is only when the practical aspects of the verdict are played out on the ground that it will be known whether Ayodhya’s long dusk is finally over.