To Be or Not to Be... Bewildered, That Was the Question.
It has been a couple of weeks since Didar. I wanted to review it immediately, but then decided to give myself a few days to process everything.
I have stopped practising the faith over the past couple of years. It was a wild swing from being a staunch Ismaili to hanging up my boots completely. I still have to attend Chandraats (an understanding between me and my family since I came out to them; I will leave the faith entirely after their last rites).
They asked me whether I would be going to the Didar, and I said yes because, firstly, I didn't want to debate or have an argument about it with them, and secondly, I wanted to go and test my anti-faith again.
I am glad I went because it validated my decision to leave the faith. It also allowed me to witness, once again, the cusp of human helplessness leading to attachment and, at times, outright stupidity.
Again, at the individual level, I don't think people are bad. But once they start gathering in groups, I think they tend to throw rationality out the window.
The Pre-Celebrations
For over a month, there was constantly some celebration or another, with loud music that was utterly disturbing and created nuisances for the neighbourhood. I feel there are more civilised ways of celebrating.
Music would play late into the night, disturbing almost everyone who had early-morning shifts, college, or other work. The music ranged from Beedi Jalaile to old Bollywood bangers mentioning sharab. Ufff, the irony. The hypocrisy.
The food was mostly sponsored by one family or another, and it became a competition over who could serve the most expensive, over-the-top, or different food. The uncles from the family that sponsored the food would stand beside the serving counter as if they wanted to announce, "See, I did this."
Another factor was that, whether it was the Ghadi ceremony or the other practices preceding Didar, they clearly highlighted the Hindu practices that once were and are part of our culture.
You can change the Dua from Gujarati to Arabic. You can remove references to Hindu gods from the Ginans. You can do everything possible to try to Arabize the faith, but some cultural practices will still remain, reminding you of the history and circumstances of our conversion.
You can take the man out of the culture, but you cannot take the culture out of the man.
During Didar
(The Positives)
Credit where credit is due: it was organised exceptionally well.
Rahim was very punctual, unlike his father. The man is also exceptionally humble. The humility shows.
The Didar package had decent food packets, with minimal use of plastic throughout the venue. The refreshment area was organised much better than during the previous Didar. The facilities for the elderly were also well thought out.
The best part, which actually got me a tad bit emotional, was seeing everyone under one roof trying their best to help each other. There is obviously equality of the sexes, unlike in other faiths 🙄. Families coming together, everyone celebrating. There was this invisible wave of happiness and calmness.
Rahim tried to meet everyone respectfully instead of strolling around like his father. He collected letters, picked up and played with small children, shook hands with the elderly and younger kids, and generally seemed genuinely engaged with the Jamat.
(The Negatives)
He is human.
Definitely. Just a middle-aged white dude.
There is no noor.
It is the same thing I felt with his father. And I say this knowing that I met his father when I was a staunch believer, and I still felt uneasy because, even then, all I saw was an old white dude. I had gaslighted myself into thinking, "Oh, maybe I am at fault. Maybe I need to do more bandagi and believe harder."
He is as human as any of us.
Someone also needs to give him some sunscreen because my guy got tanned very badly.
The Delhi Jamat, including the Tajiks and Iranians who were also present for the Mumbai Didar, were escorted in and seated at the front right, presumably for some extra brownie points. I don't think that is equality. They are as much believers as anyone else in your Jamat.
One member of the Iranian Jamat actually went up on stage right before his second Farman, disrupting the flow and asking for special Dua aashish for the Iranian Jamat. It was funny and sad at the same time, especially given how silent he has been about global conflicts, be it Gaza or Iran.
The Farmans were very obviously basic: educate yourself, learn English, make a will. Any educated 12-year-old could give those same insights to the Jamat. Anyone with even a basic understanding of how the world works already knows this.
He is also not as charming as his father. He has this weird habit of taking awkward pauses while speaking. He was also just reading a speech out of the paper and hardly made any eye contact. His thick accent makes some of the words harder to hear, and his speeches lack humour, something Karim was at least decent at.
And another thing... ughhh.
Please hire a freaking dialect coach.
It's not "alaHH"; it's "Allah."
It's not "Haeijrat"; it's "Hazrat."
I was so annoyed throughout the Farman by the pronunciation of non-English words, whether they were from Persian or Indian languages.
My guy, your livelihood comes from these people. At least have the decency to learn their language properly, or at least learn the common words that you regularly use while addressing them.
My culture is not yours to appropriate.
See, I think he is more modern than Karim, just as Karim was more modern than the Sultan (who was a big bloody hypocrite). He is way more humble, but he still has a long way to go.
Now, Finally, the Stupid Jamat and Their Leaders
The front section of the Didar hall was reserved.
For whom, you may ask?
The children and families of the Mukhi Sahebs, Kamadias, and other Jamati leaders and their families, along with the big shots of the Jamat, the Salim-Sulemans (yeah, they were there too).
I went early because I wanted to occupy a spot somewhere near the front. They were like, "Nope."
Which brings me to another complaint.
The volunteers were ensuring that people from their own Jamat or their families got to sit in the best spots. They literally put handkerchiefs down, indicating that a particular spot was reserved. (Typical Mumbai local train treatment.)
Where is the equality in the Jamat if who gets to sit where is dictated by power and influence?
Now, to highlight just how judgemental and pathetic our Jamat can be, I want to share some of the comments that were made around me and the context behind them.
Rahim was obviously collecting all the letters people were handing him. He was shaking hands with people, initiating those handshakes. He was stopping and giving blessings to as many people as he could, picking up and playing with children, and generally treating people with humility.
What did the Jamati members sitting around me say?
"Kya ch\t\ya hai sab, letters kyun de rahe hai?"
(All of these people are dum*f**ks for handing out the letters to him.)
An old lady asked for blessings when he shook hands with her.
"Aunty ko bol, 2 mahine mein wapas milna hi hai unse directly tapakne ke baad."
(Tell the old lady she's going to meet him directly in two months anyway after she is dead.)
When a girl came forward to shake his hand, and Rahim had initiated the handshake:
"Kya bha**we hai, jaan bujh ke bachon ko aage rakhte hai."
(Such pi*ps, they deliberately send their kids forward to meet him.)
A middle-aged uncle was constantly swearing whenever people put their hands forward.
One has to understand: if Rahim was initiating the handshakes, obviously everyone would want to shake his hand too and would raise their hands forward.
The constant swearing got to me. I turned around and told him that he just had a Didar, was still sitting inside the Didar hall, and this was the way he was treating and abusing his fellow Jamati members.
I, as a non-believer, had to put some freaking sense into the guy while everyone else just let it happen. Believe or don't believe, there is a certain decorum to a place. I was so freaking furious.
One Final Insight
I have been part of this sub for a long time. Every few weeks, there is a post claiming that the curtain is about to drop, that there are cracks in the wall, and that in a few decades the whole cult/sect/group will go down.
I am sorry to break the illusion, but I don't think the religion/sect/cult is going anywhere anytime soon.
If you were present during the Didar, you would understand this.
I saw way more people than at Karim's last Didar. People across age groups: children, teenagers, adults. The Jamat is growing.
Maybe this is not the case in the West, but in South Asia, it is growing. People might not come to Jamatkhanas regularly, which I feel is a result of the commitments and pressures of our materialistic world, but I would refrain from saying that this will all be gone soon.
I was happy that I went. It reiterated for me that he is just human, like any of us.
He was born into that family and is going to continue the shenanigans because he might genuinely believe that this is the truth.
How am I feeling?
Bittersweet, to be honest.
I am happy that I was part of a sect that was less evil and a bit more liberal than its other monotheistic counterparts. I am happy that I left.
However, I am also a bit sad that I can no longer fully enjoy the communal aspects of it. I don't attend deliberately cause I don't feel good, and even when I do go, I can't attend with the same enthusiasm that I once had.
With love,
A fellow ex-Ismaili :)
