It was a warm sunny day. The dark european winter was long past now. The sun had just risen out in the eastern Sky with the flecks of gold surrounding it.
On a busy platform with hordes of people waiting to board their morning trains to reach their offices, I just saw that train to the German city of Bonn was arriving at the platform. It was a Superfast train known as ICE, with a long and slender nose, designed by engineers to enable it to speed fast by slicing through the air and thereby reducing the drag on it by the long metallic body of many compartments. A marvel of engineering indeed.
The train screeched to a halt. people already in the queue started boarding the train one by one, without pushing and jostling each other, once the door of compartments opened out automatically. within a few minutes, all boarded the train. I was lucky to get a window Seat.
After a whistle was blown out by one of the train employees, the iron bird flew off to Bonn via the financial hub of Frankfurt, a vibrant city in the heart of Europe, a city with many highrises studded in its skyline.
With a feeling of satisfaction that I got a window seat, I wanted to go for a short nap to boost my energy and refresh myself for a long and busy day in Office. But it seemed destiny and providence had not earmarked any piece of Slumber for me that morning. I looked across and saw a light brown-skinned man, perhaps in his late forties looking at me with an eye of curiosity. He looked like a north Indian. He was tall, with a long nose and an oval face. He did not wear any mustache. An idea just flashed in my mind that he could be a Refugee from the north Indian state of Punjab or from Pakistani Punjab. There are many from the Indian State of Punjab and Pakistani Punjab settled here in Germany after getting political asylum. A feeling of sneer crept in me. How these people exploit the generosity of the German State.How they exploit the German State by living on the money granted by the state. A burden on German tax-payers.
But soon the feeling of disgust in me was to fade off and waves of sympathy and empathy were to take its place.
The man kicked off a conversation with me. He asked me in Hindi, a widely spoken language in many parts of India, particularly in northern and central India, ‘app India se hain’? I nodded in agreement and then the talk went on further. As a mark of reciprocation, I asked him too, if he was from India. I was taken aback to know that he was from “Afghanistan”, a war-torn nation ravaged ever since the Soviets first invaded it in the 1970s.
He started narrating the Story of his arrival to Germany. He came to Germany 20 years back when the radical islamic group Taliban overtook his country and started inflicting atrocities on religious minorities such as sikhs, hindus and also many moderate-minded muslims, who stood against their idea of Islam, an idea full of bigotry and hatred against non-muslims, particularly the west.
His name was ‘Radhe Shyam’. He was a hindu, a hindu from Afghanistan. I was doubtful in the beginning but when he showed a symbol of “OM”, a sacred hindu symbol tattooed on his right wrist, all my suspicion evaporated. He narrated to me how the Taliban pushed him and his relatives out of his country. There was a mark of sadness in his tone. Though tears did not roll down his cheeks, I could still make out from his voice, that he was very sad and broken deep down. He lost his country, his friends, his relatives just because he was a hindu, just because he was a Kafir (an infidel) in the eyes of the Taliban, just because he was not following what Taliban thought upright and religious. A land where his forefathers once lived, a land where he was born, a land where he grew up playing with his friends, was suddenly snatched from him by just one cruel slap of destiny.
A lot of time has passed since then. He got political asylum in Germany. He is now a German citizen. A German hindu. He has his temple in Frankfurt where he goes to worship hindu Gods and Goddesses along with his other Afghan brethren. The scars of the past had been removed somewhat by the humanitarian move of the German Government.
He got a new home – Germany, where he could do everything without the fear and shadow of the Taliban. He was no more a kafir but a citizen of a secular state, which does not discriminate against him for what he is.
The train soon reached my Destination. I bade him goodbye and climbed down the steps and landed on the platform.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. With a deep sense of gratitude towards German policy for granting asylum to refugees, I headed to my office.