BENGALURU: Love jihad. The war of love, or more precisely, crusade of love. An oxymoron definitely, it conjures images of guns and roses, a term synonymous more with the war zone called marriage than the flower-strewn path of courtship. Love jihad is suddenly gaining currency, with laws being hammered out to deal with this supposedly growing unhappy phenomenon, though according to the courts, it’s an invalid term.
Valid or not, I am now a little concerned about these laws on the anvil, considering the number of inter-faith couples in the family - both ‘jihadis’ (their term, not mine) and those who are involved in a form of reverse jihad (again, not my term). One of the first to cross the barrier was my intrepid aunt, who took off with her university senior, creating quite a ripple. But those were the swinging sixties in a Bombay under the overarching influence of Bollywood, and death threats were not the norm in that softer era.
The personal was not yet the political. No doubt she had to sever ties with many in the family, but was determined to settle down with her dashing Goan beau. Now over half a century later, their marriage seems to be the normal cat-and-mouse game of a couple in their seventies.
Cut to post millennium. There is this young man who married a beauty introduced by his parents, but couldn’t get his former colleague out of his mind. Nor could she, it seems, though they had pledged to stay apart, as they were on opposing sides of the communal divide. Cupid persisted, and won. Now together, they are parents to a toddler. Only love, no jihad.
But today’s world, populated by hardliners of all hues, looks at them with a cynical curious eye, and their gooey love story seems like an affirmation of a disturbing narrative being built. The questions are probing: Who converted, who gave up name and religion, who won, who lost?
The focus, unfortunately, is still on the girl (our sisters, our daughters, our honour) turning it into a gender issue where the woman somehow seems to have a far lesser right to love, and to choose. The man gets away, but that’s no surprise. The young couple continues to be threatened by members of her family, and declarations that two faiths can co-exist under one roof are met with more cynicism. What, a strict vegetarian in this maasahari household? Inconceivable.
Then there are others who dropped both religions, preferring the more peaceful anonymity of spirituality. It is definitely a dangerous time to love. I doff my hat to both these women, but more so the younger one -- for she has dared in a climate of moral and political vigilantism.