Darker than dark alleys is irratinal hate

During the Delhi violence of February 2020, Fahad Khalid was volunteering as a rescue worker in the dark bylanes of the city's north-eastern region. But when he tried to help an injured man sprawled on the roadside, the tables turned because of his religious identity. And he had to run to save his life

Photo: Fahad Khalid

I do what I do - that is my day job. But I have another more fulfilling life - that of a trained emergency rescue and paramedic resource in times of conflict or natural disaster. The 2013 Uttarakhand floods changed by priorities forever when I debuted as a novice rescue worker. As part a rescue operations team I learned a lot that i didn't know. But as they say - there's always more to know.

During the Delhi riots on February 25, I was in Delhi as part of a team of paramedics, doctors, and other volunteers. My role was to provide first aid. I was circling near Maujpur, Bhajanpura, a riot affected area that night. I noticed a young man in his mid-twenties on the side of the street. It was dark and men were running around. I approached the injured man and saw his blood soaked shirt. It looked like a deep injury on his stomach. When I cleaned the wound with sterile and saw how deep the wound was, I instinctively said:"Ya Allah! Bahut bleeding ho rahi hai. Aapko hospital le jana hoga.(You are bleeding a lot and need to be taken to a hospital.” 

A couple of them around us (until then unconcerned of his fate) heard me say "Ya Allah!" and started calling me “mulla ka pilla” (son of a mullah) and pounced upon me. I was confused - flee or save the man. I saw the injured man open his eyes and look at me. I saw some hope. But instead of seeing relief in his eyes (as I looked like an aid worker), I saw hate. With all his failing strength to tried to hit out at me and yelled: "Hit him, he’s a Muslim". I was stunned. I kept saying: "I want to help you. Lie still. Let me get an ambulance you’re hurt." I thought he was deranged from loss of blood. And my training kept surfacing.
 
Suddenly another mob that was on a rampage came running towards me. I told them he needs to be taken to a hospital. And the injured man kept saying:"Kill him he's a Muslim." No hope here too: The group asked me my name. Usually I'd just give a fictitious name; mostly Hindu. But I was so shaken that I gave my own name. A Muslim name. And I then said (optimistic me) -let’s move him. Thinking sanity may prevail. But the drunk mob of men (stinking of liquor and not even able to stand) jumped on me.
 
I realized this was not just violence but insanity that I was dealing with. Probably this man could have been caught in their misfire. They didn’t seem to be able to understand how badly he was injured. Their only trigger was the word Muslim. I had no choice but to run and save my life. They were so drunk that I could easily shove the few men off me. 

I don’t know what happened to that forsaken man. Did he survive? Since I ended up with a broken arm and some injuries, I couldn't continue with the rescue work. But sometime down the line I went back to the same place in Delhi. It was a regular street now. But for me this place had changed; and had changed me forever.

As told to Rehmat Merchant