OPINION: Fighting fear with a spoonful of sugar

by Navjyoti Dalal

As news of attacks on Indian immigrants in Ireland from Dublin and a few other counties trickled in, along seeped in fear.

I am struggling with what to do with this fear. Am I overthinking the situation, do I really need to worry, or is this fear a postcard with the wrong address - meant not for Indians, but the locals? This is part of a regular column in the Westmeath Independent, Home Is Where The Heart Is, by Navjyoti Dalal.

I find it awkward to voice my opinion, especially when opinions are a dime a dozen. From the TD Simon Harris reassuring the Indian community of safety, to columnists in national newspapers waxing eloquent on the matter, and highly placed members from the community taking to their social media accounts to share their thoughts, much has been said about the violent attacks against Indian immigrants in Ireland. What can I say that has not been said, do I have anything meaningful to add to the discussion, I think to myself. I turn to an advice I received from a senior Indian journalist, who was also my teacher in college. "Use your voice to tell your truth," he'd said. So, I'll keep this as truthful as possible, drawing from personal experiences and observations.

Waking Up To Fear

When I read about the Indian man attacked and stripped in Tallaght, I thought it to be a case of rogue teens. When the story was circulated in the community groups, captioning it a racially motivated assault, I felt race was wrongly attributed. Of course, I kept my opinion to myself. Within days news of the next attack on an Indian immigrant flooded WhatsApp groups. I tried dismissing it too, but with less conviction this time. It wasn't until the little 6-year-old girl in Waterford made headlines as a victim that I recalibrated my lens. Something was surely up, I gauged. At least three more incidents of violence have been reported within the last week -- a university student (who is now packing his bags) and a medical nurse, both based in Dublin, and a lady in Tralee, Kerry. Members of the Indian community across Ireland are reporting racial slurs and comments being thrown at them. As for myself, last week was the first time I noticed a change in people's gaze. It could be because I was wearing a saree for an occasion, but it still was unsettling to receive cold stares.

I read a story in The Irish Times, by Conor Gallagher, about the Gardai's struggle to reassure Indians that 'statistically' there's no increase in crimes against this particular community. I am certain that the Gardai has its best interests and intentions for the Indian diaspora in Ireland, but would you fault us for feeling fear in the backdrop of at least eight cases of racial hate and violence within the last three weeks?

I am an Indian living with family in the midlands, my town is dubbed the heart of Ireland, and I can vouch for the aptness of the name. But the last few weeks have been about adjusting our lifestyle according to news headlines. My children are not allowed to go down the street alone, they can only play in big groups, outside our home, with children whose parents I know personally. I have always enjoyed and prided myself on befriending Athlone and its people while walking the town's streets. These days though, I avoid areas which are deserted, the friendly interactions have dwindled. I have heard of some community members deciding to go for their shopping runs in groups.

Fear Looms, Hope Blooms

If there's one upside to the situation, even if bleakly so, it is getting back in touch with friends from India who called to check up on me. It is harder to allay your mom's panic. I end up narrating the many reasons why I would still choose to be here than return in haste. The first being the magnanimity of the Irish heart. Irrespective of the current developments, my belief in the goodness of the Irish hasn't flinched.

I have met everyday samaritans who lift your spirits with their subtle acts of inclusion. I've been charmed, impressed and become a fan of the Irish conviviality. One of my dearest friends here is Miriam. The fragile-looking 87-year-old has been a rock I can lean on, and my friend, philosopher, guide. I have met her teenaged grandson, Sam, a mild-mannered youth who minds his Ps and Qs.

I have also encountered teenagers like Siofra, who I saw with two boys by the basketball court at St Mary's NS, during the summer vacations. I volunteer to look after the polytunnel at the school pitch and was on my way to water it when I saw the three teens in an otherwise empty school compound. Given the reputation teenagers carry, I walked in somewhat intimidated. Within minutes of my interaction with them, I realised I couldn't be more judgemental. Excited to know that we're growing corn, tomatoes and cucumbers at the polytunnel Siofra offered to help me with the watering. I know of other teens, and youth, whose names I don't know, but whose kindness has stayed with me.

Perhaps, what we - the Indians, Irish, all minority communities - need is not a hard look, but an honest and thoughtful look at the situation, and also within. To the Indians, I know there's fear, but we can only overcome it with light and lightness. We may win arguments by quoting 'we pay taxes', but not hearts. To win hearts, to have our neighbouring Mr Fahey, Ms O'Sullivan, or Mrs O'Reilly, come stand in solidarity with us, we must come out of our ghettos, assimilate, and truly embrace some of the Irish culture.

To the attackers, are Indians really the cause of your frustration? Is it brown skin that you find so repulsive or is it the helplessness of being trapped in aggressive identities?

To the Irish, the problem of aggressive teens/youth is a monster that feeds on silence.

They may be targeting brown people today, they might acquire a taste for the whites tomorrow.

As a cultural exchange, this week, I will share a story instead of a recipe. In the 1300s, Persian refugees, fleeing religious persecution, landed on the Indian shores. They requested the king Jadhav Rana to allow them asylum. The king sent them a glass of milk, as a metaphor for his kingdom being full with people. The Parsis (as this race is called in India) added a spoon of sugar to the milk in response, relaying the message that they're a peace-loving community which will only enrich the society they live in with their values and hard work.

The king was impressed and the Parsis were granted asylum and land to dwell in. Centuries later, the Parsis are an integral part of the Indian society. They're quirky, friendly, and extremely enterprising. The old guard of India's industrialist families all comprised of Parsis. The Late Ratan Tata, a Parsi, was one of the most loved and respected industrialists to have walked this planet.

Such is the power of a teaspoon of sugar.