It meant something to a lot of us. Even to me, as a Muslim.

We lived in the heart of Bangalore, a street away from Chickpet. We were the only Muslim family in the neighbourhood. From my balcony, I could call out to my friend who lived across the street. They were Jains.

A little further down lived my three favourite uncles in the neighbourhood: Ram, his younger brother Lakshman, and Nani Uncle. Their homes were open to us every day, just as ours was to them. We celebrated Diwali, Holi and Dussehra together. The burning of the Ravana effigy took place in the vacant plot next door.

These uncles would take me and my sibling to drive-in theatres, to Sukh Sagar at Majestic for pav bhaji and chaat, and swimming on Sundays at the public pool next to Sankey Tank. Ram Uncle taught me to swim. Had I stayed there a few more years, he would probably have taught me to drive as well.

For Diwali, it was customary for my dad to visit his suppliers in Chickpet. He owned a textile shop on Kamraj Road. Holi was a community festival, and it was such fun. I loved it when they came home and smeared colours on us, especially my dad.

For Ayudha Puja, they would take my dad’s Vijay Super, get it washed, and decorate it with marigolds, chrysanthemums and mango leaves, along with the sacred markings of haldi, kumkum and chandan. It was their way of paying respect to the tools of trade and the vehicles of our daily lives.

Every Eid, they came home to feast on mutton biriyani, Thalassery style, the way my mother made it.

We were part of them. That’s how we celebrated.

But Diwali has changed over the years. So have the ways in which festivals are celebrated in India. Every festival, that is, except Onam in Kerala. Because we are Malayalis, and we don’t want that disease spreading into our homes, our neighbourhoods, our schools and our state.

That disease is rabid. It spreads through violence and fear. Once bitten, your chances of survival are slim. It’s a certain kind of insanity, an uneducated madness. And the irony is that it isn’t always carried by the uneducated. Sometimes it comes wrapped in expensive degrees, IIM diplomas, MBAs and impressive corporate designations. People who can analyse markets, build businesses, manage balance sheets and quote management theories, but somehow cannot see through the most basic politics of hate.

But like rabies, this too can spread beyond geographies and borders, across states and countries.

I visited my uncle this evening, and he asked me, “Did you see the post?”

I hadn’t a clue.

It was a post calling for a boycott of Muslims and Muslim-owned businesses this Diwali. I retorted, “What’s the surprise there? It’s been happening for a long time now. Probably in some Yogi Pradesh or one of those Andhbhakt states where people pretend to be progressive liberals and yet choose to vote for this.

He replied, “No, this is in Kerala. Apparently, some Modi followers have called for a boycott here.”

So this disease is apparently trying to put down roots here, in the land of Parashurama, the land of beef and porotta.

I grew up watching the Ramayana on Doordarshan in our living room, surrounded by neighbourhood kids. The Rama of those days is not the Rama we see being invoked today. He was the ideal man, the embodiment of righteousness, honour and adherence to moral values.

How do you put a man like Modi on the same pedestal as him? Isn’t that unholy? The same way we humans have polluted and poisoned Ma Ganga.

The Valmiki Ramayana uses words like Gunavaan, Chaarithrena and Vidvaan to describe Lord Rama. In which world do you see these values in Modi? Yet you have elevated him to God status, to the status of Lord Rama.

When we see Modi with his vile words and constant whining, we wonder: was this how Lord Rama spoke? Was this how he conducted himself? That’s certainly not the Rama I remember.

We had pride in him. We wanted victors, saviours and heroes like Lord Rama, the kind we grew up watching and admiring. Not this man.

Lord Rama represented the finest human virtues, the embodiment of goodness, even with his flaws and the injustice done to Sita.

InshaAllah, this country will find its way back to those values. The values we once associated with Lord Rama.

I’m hoping to watch Ramayana (2026). I just hope they don’t find a way to make villains out of Muslims in this legend (as they do in Bollywood) even though we didn’t even exist in that story.