"Why can small numbers excite rage? They
represent a tiny obstacle between majority and
totality or total purity. The smaller the number
and the weaker the minority, the deeper the rage
about its capacity to make a majority feel like a
mere majority."

[Arjun Appadurai, Fear of Small Numbers]

“Hey Ghosh, don’t do so much Ghosh-Ghoshani!”
Another day in school, another round of mutual
teasing. Schoolyard taunts can be casually cruel,
but nicknames are nothing to be upset about.
Everyone had one. Even the son of the Police IG
had been renamed “kaula” (lovely reference to his
hue).

In that context, teasing Ranjan Ghosh by his last
name seemed very mild. But something about this
particular dig stuck, even though my class 6
brain couldn’t navigate the cause of unease. Much
later, many years on, I realized that it was the
first time I was forced into awareness of a Hindu
surname.

Relative to all things we have seen in this
epoch, St Joseph seems to be a model of communal
balance. Propelled by an affirmative action
policy in admission, almost half the students
were Hindu and Christian. At that age, the only
difference we saw was that the Hindu students
studied Geeta in a separate room during Islamiat
class. Who cares, to each his own.

The mind soaks up many fragments and saves it for
future processing. Even at that age some part of
me vaguely registered that the wealthy students
all had last names like Rahman, Ahmed, and
Hossain. One day a teacher asked for a collection
of money to help Gomes, poorest student in the
class, buy the required geography atlas. A
strange unease, but nothing I could pin down.

In 1985, we anxiously crowded around a notice
board to find the SSC results. Star Marks, First
Division, Letter. Magic symbols of future success
and prosperity. Two decades on, many in my
graduating class (sometimes referred to as
Generation 71) have become industrialists,
bankers, television directors, ad firm creatives
— executives of every stripe. When I sit with my
old crew, there’s a palpable air of "masters of
the universe."

But when I take a closer look, not a single
non-Muslim among my classmates has made it into
this magic circle. 1985 was perhaps the last
moment of parity between us. The in-between time
has been rough for those who don’t fit the
national identity project. When I ask my
classmates about this, they shrug. Not my
problem. One of these bright souls even said to
me, during a BUET strike, "Hindu students
protesting again! They are always making trouble.
Lai dithe dithe mathai thule rekhechi."

Amena Mohsin talks about the flaws of Bengali
nationalism — a structure that sings of Ek
Shagoro Roktho, yet remains blind to the
invisible second class of Hindus, Christians,
Buddhists, Paharis, Adivasis, and all other
communities that don’t fit within a Bengali
Muslim ethos. The concept of a singular nation,
needing to be produced or naturalized at any
cost, is not unique to us.

Hannah Arendt argued in 1968 that the idea of a
national peoplehood was a fatal flaw in developed
societies. Philip Gourevitz, surveying the
brutality of Rwanda, observed that "genocide,
after all, is an exercise in community-building."

But what is remarkable for Bangladesh is a
national memory project devoted to the 1971
genocide that fails to recognize how we are
replaying that scenario on a smaller level
against all non-Bengali and/or non-Muslim
identities. When these small groups assert their
presence and refuse to be assimilated within a
“Bengali Muslim” identity, spectacular and
extreme violence is our tool for producing a
homogenized national map.

My St Joseph memory trip came while considering
the crucible of the approaching elections. In
keeping with the overall pattern of convulsive
violence, minority communities are already under
threats to stay away from the polls. Unlike in
2001, when the orgy of anti-Hindu violence was
enacted after the elections, this time the idea
is to block these communities from even daring to
vote. As documented by The Daily Star, Prothom
Alo, and others, a significant proportion of
minority voters have already been taken off the
controversial voter listi. When even Muslim
voters find themselves missing in large numbers
from the list, what chance for Bahadur, Kumar,
Larma, or Gomes?

The 1991 and 2001 results could have been
different given the razor-thin margins by which
many seats were won, and the huge number of
minority voters that were prevented from voting
in those very seats. Out of 300 constituencies,
there are 71 where minority voters are
significant (ranging from 11% to 61%) and 50
where they are visible (5-10%). The current
election sets every incentive for the 4-party
alliance to aggressively choke off the minority
vote.

The AL’s embrace of secularism has always been
shaky (is there anybody with the guts to hold
their feet to the fire and force them to eject
Nejame Islam from the 14-party coalition?). But
even this weak commitment has produced many
potential Pahari candidates for Hill Tracts, as
compared to the exclusively Bengali Muslim
candidates from the BNP. For Bengali candidates
to win in Pahari-majority areas, a massive
blocking of the Pahari vote is needed. A similar
pattern is expected in all areas with a
significant minority population. This is not to
say that minority voters should vote en masse for
AL — but simply that they to be allowed to vote.

I invoke St Joseph because anecdotes sometimes
carry more emotive power than statistics. When
the silent majority continually ignores the pain
of others, we end up at the embryo stages of
ethnicide. These days it is hard to sit still for
a song ashor during 1971 commemorations without
choking on the failure of the nation project. Our
numerical majority has chosen methods of
predatory nationalism that include racist tactics
that echo the Pakistan period, reify Bengali
Muslims, and render all other identities
invisible ii.

My uncle used to tell the story of the maulana
who stood in front of a temple in 1940s Noakhali,
using his body to defy those who wanted to burn
alive the Hindus who had been their former
neighbours. If that village elder found an
interpretation of religion that taught
compassion, how are we in this backwards trap
fifty years on? I shout at all of you with rage,
because I refuse to accept a haven for me that is
a nightmare for others. There is still time to
stop this with our words, our actions and our
bodies.

i. Daily Star, May 6, 2006: "Religious Minorities
Under Pressure“; Daily Star, May 10, 2006:”Minority Voters Intimidated"; Prothom Alo,
January 6, 2006: "Voter List Compilers Say They
Didn’t Go to 4 Minority-heavy Villages By
’Mistake’"; bcdjc.org/mreport-1.html.

ii. This can be seen in the drastic drop in
minority populations: 1961 (18.5%), 1974 (13.5%),
1981 (12.2%) and 1991 (10.5%). Analysts expect
the 2001 census to reveal even further drop, but
the government has not released those numbers.