“Why must we talk of Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs? All we have to worry about is that we are men – human beings.” – Khushwant Singh, Train to Pakistan
Standing at this time where identity only stirs conflicts, Singh’s words explain the underlying hypocrisy. We must ask ourselves – did religion, nationalism, or division truly served us with any good? We often forget – before we were some citizen of a nation, we were people. Before we were people, we were children learning to love through compassion. But somewhere between colonization, humanity got divided – first by belief, then gradually by border in 1948.
Partition – separating human beings using lines drawn on a piece of paper – might be the greatest weapon ever used against humanity. There are cases, when we fall under the same flag there are further labels – religion, caste, language. Each one pulls us further apart. So if you ever find yourself asking, “Who am I?”- know that all they ever wanted was for you not to say that, “I am a human.”
Being born in one of the most culturally diverse countries in the world, I have seen people constantly balancing identities. When the Father of our Nation, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, to the same question of identity, proclaimed boldly “… I am a Bengali, I am a human being, I am a Muslim.” This simple answer reflects a broader crisis rooted deep in our region. Who are we, really?
The South Asian region – primarily Bangladesh, India, and Pakistan – has long been haunted by this question. The recent “May Pahalgam incident” between India and Pakistan once again reminded us how deeply public sentiments remain divided. No matter the dialogue, no matter the diplomacy, the two nations still hesitate to shake hands in true brotherhood. We remain consumed by mere mistrust, further being unable to grow with human dignity.
Two hundred years of colonial rule not only exploited us- but worse, divided us. The British just not only looted us- they dehumanized us, even comparing natives to animals; and, silenced our voice through laws like the Vernacular Press Act (1878), which censored Indian-language newspapers under the pretext of “seditious content.” The early 20th century brought glimmers of hope, but even that came with fractures. The British never treated us as equals – and tragically, we didn’t treat one another as equals either.
During those turbulent times, as Indians, we failed to unite. Religion pulled us apart. The Hindu nationalist sentiment grew louder as they claimed India was for Hindus. Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, who coined the term Hindutva, wrote: “India is the land of the Hindus and must remain so…” However, Hindu religion itself was divided into many as can be noticed when Rabindranath was writing for inauguration of a Congress congregation in Calcutta he hesitated as the organizer asked for a revered song to Devi Durga, and he was a Bharmmo who did not worship any idol.
Though some envisioned a different India where religious harmony would prevail.Like, Nehru tried to preserve a pluralistic vision saying “India is a country held together by strong but invisible threads… ”
Still, division triumphed. While the West was celebrating Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, we were perfecting a Two-Nation Theory – throwing darts of separation at the heart of unity. We weren’t just natives being exploited by the British- we became Hindu natives, Muslim natives, Bengali natives, Marathi natives – but never just Indian natives. As if we accepted our status as slaves, but insisted that some slaves were more enslaved than others.
The winter of despair came. The sun eloped and with it the hope of grand unification. While the world pursued knowledge and innovation, we debated about. Inclusivity — in our land of diversity — turned into a utopian fantasy.
But I ask, “Did religion pay off in the end? Could the Two-Nation Theory even last two decades?”
Just 23 years later, we fell again — into another ditch of division, exploitation, and bloodshed. We failed because we separated ourselves in the first place — sorting each other with the wrong criteria. How could we ever stay on the same page?
One of my closest friends’ grandfather was in the very first batch of East Pakistan Cadet College, later Faujdarhat Cadet College. For six years, he shared dormitories, dreams, and discipline with classmates from the West. Could a war ever separate them? No – because war can never destroy love.
We failed ourselves long before 1971 – when we bought a pair of spectacles from the British. Through bare eyes, a boy at his youth saw brotherhood. But through those lenses, the fear-mongers saw weapons. Some say Little Boy and Fat Man were the greatest weapons ever used. But few notice the deadliest weapon of British colonialism, which left behind not bombs but borders – penetrating flesh with a needle of hatred.
Chanting God Save the King did not save their British kingdom and paused the sun to set. Rather, the gun of Divide and rule did.
From Pahalgam to the unnamed boy who first died because of his label, they all once breathed the same air as we do. The day we realize our greatest enemy is within – prejudice, hate, and false nationalism – is the day we shed the crown of colonialism and discover our true identity: human beings.
I wonder like Bob Dylan, “How many seas must a white dove sail, Before she sleeps in the sand?
When will we sit, share a plate of Kacchi Biriyani, and finally reflect on our shared culture — not as rivals, but as brothers?