As a child, I always looked forward to the final days of December, largely because of the Christmas celebrations in my city. During those days, the bells of the church near our home would gently wake us in the morning. I would sometimes leave the house before dawn, heading straight to the church, where some of my friends already gathered. After the morning prayer, small hot air balloons were released into the sky. Watching them float above was a magical experience. At that time, we had no idea of the breathtaking hot air balloons in Cappadocia, Türkiye.
The view outside the church in the evening was equally mesmerizing. The light seemed to fill every corner, creating a unique and magical glow. One of the most remarkable things about that time was that no one ever asked about your religion. The church welcomed people of all faiths, and anyone could come and go freely. This inclusivity stands in stark contrast to today, where a Muslim would likely find it difficult to visit Hindu temples in our city, as many are now officially closed off to non-Hindus. It’s a poignant reminder of how things have changed over time.
Lost in these thoughts, I suddenly felt the urge to call a childhood friend, Wilson. The conversation was long, but it lacked the joy and laughter that used to fill our chats when we were kids. One reason for this is that back then, we were children, and now we have children of our own. But as Wilson mentioned, another reason is the drastic change in the country’s atmosphere. Now, during every festival—regardless of the religion—a certain fear lingers in people’s hearts and minds.
Day by day, festivals are increasingly marked by parades of people marching through the streets, often armed, with their procession routes frequently passing through our area. The excitement seems to heighten as they move past us. Wilson asked me to picture a scenario: “Imagine you’re asleep at night, and suddenly, 10–20 bikers race past your house, shouting ‘Jai Shri Ram.’”
She also shared her growing fear about visiting villages. “Nowadays, there’s a constant anxiety that you might get caught in a situation where you’re accused of forced religious conversion—and possibly beaten. Because of this, I’ve become more hesitant to even visit the homes of Hindu friends,” Wilson expressed. She also mentioned that the situation is relatively better in our city, but in some states, Christian villagers were asked to leave their homes before Christmas.
Her words were deeply disturbing, especially because, in India, this has unfortunately become all too common. Just last year, in my own city, five people—including an American tourist—were detained on charges of allegedly practicing “religious conversion.” In my district Champaran, Bihar, this has become a monthly occurrence. This is particularly surprising given the significant contributions the Christian community has made to our city. What distinguishes this Christian community in our city is that it is one of the oldest ethnoreligious Christian communities in the northern Indian subcontinent.
Most of the Bettiah city’s (city in Champaran, Bihar) prominent schools are run by Christians. There is even a Christian colony, known as the Christian Quarter, located on about 90 acres adjacent to Raj Deori in Bettiah city. This area is considered one of the quieter parts of the city. However, it is also where many of the city’s miscreants gather, as it houses St. Teresa’s, the city’s most well-known girls’ school. In addition to St. Teresa’s, there are around 50 other schools, both large and small, established by the Christian community, with more schools spread throughout the city.
This story was originally published in beyondheadlines.in. Read the full story here.