Kya aap Musalmaan hain?

On our very first day in Islamabad, a Pakistani official, who had just returned after a stint in New Delhi, was surprised to hear that I am Muslim.

“Paidaishi Musalmaan hain, ya shaadi kar ke ho gayeen?” he asked me at a dinner meant to welcome us to Pakistan. Without any trace of embarrassment, he continued, “I asked because aap ke yahan to sab chalta hai na… (referring to mixed marriages in India).”

“By birth,” I replied, staring at his drink. He changed tack. “In Islamabad we use gas heaters,” he said, pointing towards a gas-fired water heater outside our home.

Our Muslimness has been post-mortem-ed scores of times since. Most Pakistanis usually have that shock-and-awe look when it dawns on them that we are Muslims: “Par aap to India se hain na?” or “Aap lagti to nahin hain.”

Some others give us a warm hug, “Arrey aap to hamarey Musalmaan bhai hain” (that one truly makes my husband cringe); and many break into the predictable rant: “Musalmaanon ki haalat India main achchi nahin hai, hamein unki bahut fikar hai”, or worse, “Aap pehle se Musalmaan they, ya yahan aakar huye?”

If that wasn’t enough, the ‘bhais’ from the intelligence agencies often scale us on our religiosity – trying to find out if we read the namaz, keep fasts during Ramzan and drink (that’s over and above their all-important dossiers on our favourite veggies and pulses compiled by following us on each and every visit to the grocers).

In India, religion never propelled our associations, neither did anyone make us so aware of our Muslimness. Of course, I got told plenty of times that I don’t look Muslim, mostly thanks to my gene pool (my rather unusual name is also confusing), but it never sounded like an accusation.

I am unusually high on patience and usually smile my way through such chatter, telling most people that there are more Muslims on the other side of Wagah. But my husband doesn’t.

Once I heard him tell the anchor on a TV show: “India has had three Muslim Presidents, one of the richest men of India is a Muslim, and of the two Indian journalists posted in Pakistan, one of them (my husband) is a Muslim, so we really are doing fine.” I found his argument quite convincing.

I had thought I had seen it all till I was referred to Islamabad’s biggest privately run hospital for suspected appendicitis some time last year. After the doctor saw “Indian” on my form, she announced, “Ajmal Kasab Pakistani ho hi nahin sakta…”

Then she saw my Muslim surname and said, “Muslim?” I said, “Yes.” “We worry about the Muslims in India. Look at the Muslims in Gujarat…” she said, breaking into a long monologue, oblivious to the fact that I was wriggling with pain and hoping she would get on with her examination.