Last time Malcolm X visited Maulana Azad Library canteen at the end of February this year. He certainly came before Corona could smile with all its heart. Unlike corona, people were smitten with his presence, some snapped selfies, some picked him in their arms with the utmost tenderness, some basked themselves in his undivided attention, some touched him just to make themselves believe he was standing at the Shabbir Bhai’s juice corner, some smiled at him in admiration, some exonerated themselves from this untimely infatuation, some came out of the library to ignite their sensory hair cells with the frequency of his thoughts, some unattended their classes because dharna and speeches have always worked at the prestigious university.
With a translucent juice glass in his hand, he appeared bewildered
‘Why these people are making me a hero when they have plenty of native geniuses? ‘ he asked Marhoom.
‘Is this similar to my nationalism?’
‘Amazing’, he murmured. ‘
‘How come these occasional activists without proper education and learning may even think of a revolution’, and asked Marhoom.
‘Yeah!’ Marhoom meekly responded. ‘They must make efforts to build lives of dignity. ‘
Malcolm looked astonished. Put the glass aside and asked,
‘How come they know of my so many quotes, the placards are illuminating but what purpose they solve if they are not understood? ‘
‘Who cares, dear Malcolm’, Marhoom murmured. ‘We even quote Maulana Rumi to impress or flatter around.’
‘But it’s insane to see youth following anyone who doesn’t even know and practice the basics of religion, the teaching & commandments, the descended laws. Marhoom’, Malcolm said.
‘Do you think these moronic creatures who are unable to witness the first ray of sun, who unfailingly ignore prayers are talking of divine movement, even to complete their compulsory attendance they need Katta or the theatrical Union. Why such rhetorical hyperventilating in academic campus, do they even know what divine movements mean?’ Malcolm added. Looked annoyed.
‘I’m impressed with such subtle information about this place coming from you’, Marhoom responded.
He further said, ‘its cute to see they are not bothered about all these eemaan and religious bigotry, but they love you dearly sheikh, your name gives them moral high ground to say anything. We have a history of many thousand years of hero-worship, you must be new to all these things sheikh. But soon you’ll understand. You shall soon be forgotten sheikh, their memory is fleeting, with the glorious traditions they do have a culture to use big names to lure people’.
Among warm applauses Malcolm X was invited to speak, every two minutes takbeer emanated and the milieu reeked of Allah-o-Akbar and Malik Shahbaz zindabad,
‘Assalamualaikum brothers and sisters, our friends and enemies……’, Malcolm began.
Laugh and thunderous claps of the audience brushed their own eardrums to be more receptive.
‘Standing here in the timeless city of education let me remind you that Muslims in India are devoid of respect and recognition, in the name of living they are merely existing. Our people are still drenched in the colonial mentality, you are psychological colonies of your masters because you’ve forgotten your true master, your lord. You’re suffering today all form of colonisation, exploitation, oppression, degradation, humiliation, discrimination, extermination and every other kind of action. In the name of freedom, justice, democracy and all cool-sounding terms our brothers are treated like worms. Our objective and purpose from now on is to fight whoever gets in our way……. ‘
Applause, applause, takbeer, applause,
‘Nobody will fight for your azaadi’, Malcolm warned and continued.
‘but you and you have to fight by any means necessary and for that, we must unite. For your own good and freedom stop seeking allies in the Samajwadi, the commies, the Ambedkarites, the liberals, the seculars and start looking for allies who look and believe in what we believe in. People, those who have denied us, degraded us must be put on fire, the government has failed us and we shall overcome.’
The audience listened carefully while Malcolm spoke.
Finally, he descended from the Malcolm X circle, he shook hands with his cheering fans, few kissed his hands, accepted garlands from over-excited followers.
Marhoom joined Allama Malcolm and both strolled towards the Sulaiman hall to perform the Maghrib.
The audience dispersed, some got involved in the deconstruction of the speech, some started their usual gossips, few ran towards the library with placards in their hands.
Placard 1. ‘Khilafat 2.0’
Placard 2. ‘Tera Mera Rishta Kya….. ‘
They gave fiery speeches in the premises, and asked students in the reading halls, ‘What purpose education serves when our brothers and sisters are sitting at dharna for reclaiming our rights of Union and you are being selfish sponging the books?’.
Soon library was shut down, students coming from various socio-economic strata either went to various halls, few went to dhabas and some followed the Qaid.
‘Intifada Inquilab’ resonated all around.
While leading the mob, Qaid, while passing the vice-chancellor’s lodge looked at it furiously, then groped for something nearby.
He picked a stone, put in his pocket, and moved…..