The Fog Lifts

Almost on cue, the sant samaj led by Mahant Nritya Gopaldas, president of the Ramjanmabhoomi Nyas, stood up to the reverberating calls of Jai Shri Ram from VHP workers. For an hour now, since 3:30pm, when court proceedings began, the holy men in Ayodhya had been glued to the TV.

The otherwise quiet, almost barren ground had suddenly come back to life. “Jai Shri Ram”, “Ram lalla hum aayenge, mandir wahin banayenge (Ram, we are coming, and we’ll build the temple there itself)”, the slogans bounced off the walls of this Hindu bastion for the first time after ’02, eight long years after the VHP’s shiladaan programme.

The sants were in their element, this moment had been a long time coming. The media had been alerted well in advance. A press conference had been planned a day earlier itself. A relieved Nritya Gopaldas held forth on the next plan of action. His first words were: “We welcome the court verdict. We have always maintained that the site belongs to the Hindus and today it has been proven. This is a step towards resolution...and the construction of the Ram temple.”

The mood in Ayodhya had undergone a sea-change. Just 12 days back, saffron-clad sadhus were belligerent, saying there was no question of an out-of-court settlement. Ramesh Chandra Tripathi’s plea for a deferment had been labelled a political move, and the suggestion for solutions through dialogue firmly rejected. But now, sants from the sundry orders in this temple town were suddenly talking in a conciliatory tone. Gyan Das, head of the Akhil Bharatiya Akhada Parishad, was even thinking a step further. “We will now make the first move for dialogue with the Muslims. The judgement has been given and truth has won. We will now urge our Muslim brothers to donate the land given to them by the court also to us.”

In other parts of the town, things were a bit more sombre. The court order did not go as expected for 90-year-old Hashim Ansari. Sitting in a small room in his house, Hashim, the lone surviving petitioner of the title dispute, had been counting the hours till the verdict. Dressed in a silk kurta, cap and pyjamas, a departure from his usual crumpled cotton kurta and lungi, Ansari had timed his evening tea, finishing it just before the court proceedings began. Hearing aid in place, he strained to hear what the television was telling him. At 4:30 pm, when the screen flashed, ‘Waqf board petition dismissed’, Ansari shot up from his bed and walked off in a huff telling the waiting media contingent, “I don’t want to talk to anyone. Go away. I have nothing to say.” An hour later, the man relented, reiterating his comments in the run-up to the historic verdict. “I welcome the decision. We will abide by it.”

Not everyone in this town had waited so expectantly though. Some of the town’s Muslims, fearing the worst, had fled Ayodhya. The district administration had been fortifying the twin towns of Ayodhya and Faizabad over the last one month, with scores of PAC, UP Police, RAF and CRPF on round-the-clock vigil, but it hadn’t stopped the steady trickle of Muslims leaving town, most of them in the last week after September 22. The fear of a return to 1992’s horrors when the mosque was pulled down still haunts some of them. Mostly Muslim families from areas like Rajghat, Meerapur Bulandi, Mohalla Dorahi Kuan and Mohalla Nara had boarded up their homes, travelling to neighbouring villages and towns to seek refuge with relatives. Sadheekan Bi, 65, a resident of Dorahi Kuan, who has stayed back, remembers it all like yesterday. “We saw what happened in 1992. We are scared. Despite the administration’s promises, we can’t take a chance. I have sent both my daughters and three daughters-in-law and two younger sons to a relative’s house. I have stayed back with my oldest son to guard the house.”

It’s this fear the administration in Ayodhya has had to keep in check. Little wonder then that the borders to the temple town had been barricaded and entry and exit carefully monitored. Visitors, even the media from Lucknow and Delhi, were put through exhaustive searches and questioning.

Through Wednesday and on judgement day, there were flag marches in Ayodhya and Faizabad to ensure complete bandobast. The vigil remained tight and any sort of congregation was immediately dismissed. As afternoon approached, the otherwise buzzing town of Faizabad, vibrant even through Thursday morning, going about its usual business of the day, gave way to a lull. Shops shut down and residents were told to stay inside. The only people on the street were the security forces or the media.

By evening, the otherwise deserted streets of Ayodhya had begun to buzz after the verdict was pronounced. Shopkeepers who had shut shop after lunch to go home and watch the Lucknow proceedings had come back to reopen. In Hanumangarhi Chowk, shopkeepers celebrated the verdict in almost Diwali-like fashion. They lit candles and diyas outside their shops to express their joy. “It’s like Diwali for us. Ram lalla has won again and has come back home victorious,” said Manoj Kumar, a chemist at the chowk. Ram Naresh Das, another shopkeeper, added, “It’s a celebration of Hindu pride and faith.”

In the distance, 70-year-old Raeesa Bi, stood and looked. Even as security personnel ordered that candles be extinguished, barring any kind of celebration, Raeesa Bi said, “It’s doomsday. But we are glad it is over.” Twenty-five-year-old Iqhlaqh Ansari, who runs a shop close by,  added, “We accept the judgement. At least the tension and the fear will go now. This will open the roads to development in Ayodhya. The worst is over. Our businesses will flourish and politicians will have no more lives to play around with.”

For Ayodhya, on Thursday evening, its date with history was done. As darkness fell, and security forces began another round of patrolling, the mood was clear. Ayodhya wanted to move on, its future not policed by its past.