Through The Victim Lens

A Muslim photographer recalls December 6, 1992, when he was at Babri Masjid

- P. Musthafa

It was a feverish night. In a small hotel room in Faizabad, I tossed and turned on my bed all night. Sleep had deserted me. My mind was crowded with thoughts of the previous day, December 6, 1992, which had left me heartbroken. I felt deep within me that the demolition of the medieval-era mosque had struck at independent India’s soul, and changed it irrevocably. The demolition of any place of worship, whether it’s a temple, a church or a mosque, would have had the same devastating effect on me. And I had witnessed a mosque being razed to the ground in a hate-filled atmosphere. We had also seen the beginnings of the aftermath: burning tyres strewn around, the rising smoke and the militant kar sevaks ready to beat up photographers.

As I lay there on my bed, I heard the azaan, the call to prayer, breaking the day. It was a startling note in that darkness, that of one brave Muslim calling out to the faithful.

This was not my first visit to Ayodhya. I had gone there twice before to photograph the kar seva (voluntary service for temple construction) in 1990 and 1991. In October 1990, BJP leader L.K. Advani’s rath yatra was stopped in Bihar and Advani was arrested, but the kar sevaks journeyed on to Ayodhya. A few of them broke through the heavily guarded cordon and one managed to climb the disputed Babri Masjid and place a saffron flag atop the masjid.

I was working as a photographer for Malayala Manorama and The Week at that time and, in 42 years as a photographer, I have never been injured except that once. A few kar sevaks were throwing bricks at the Provincial Armed Constabulary (PAC) stationed there and one brick hit me on my back and the horrible pain festered for many months. A few died in the police firing that ensued.