Taslima Nasreen is a writer, free
thinker and humanist, who was driven out of Bangladesh—her country of birth.
Now, India is her home. In this rather emotive piece, Taslima writes how she
continues to be on edge due to uncertainties in her resident permit by India.
Twenty-five years ago, the
government of my country had driven me out of my home and my land. Had I
committed a murder, a rape, a burglary of some kind?
No.
I had simply written books.
In those books, I had written
about democracy, secularism, humanity, human rights and the equal rights of
women.
In those books, I had laid bare my
dreams of an equal society where all manner of discriminatory practices,
injustices and oppression have been abolished.
In the past 25 years, there
have been numerous changes in the government in Bangladesh — but none of
them have allowed me to return home, and neither has anyone given me a reason
as to why I cannot.
A significant portion of the first
half of this quarter century, I spent in Europe and America. But I was
desperate during those years to return to my country — and since the doors
to my homeland were closed for me, I would repeatedly visit West Bengal to get
some semblance of taste and smell of home.
The Bengali language is my one
true home after all.
Thus, in order to find an
environment of the Bengali language and Bengali culture outside Bangladesh, I
had chosen West Bengal as the closest approximate for my home. It was not
possible to set up a home somewhere with a tourist visa but fortunately, one
day, I did get permission to make Kolkata my permanent home. That was the day I
earned a residence permit to live in India — something that can be renewed
at regular intervals. I started living in India from 2004.
In the beginning, residence permit
would be renewed every six months, which was changed to a year in 2008. Instead
of the tedious application process every year, would it not have been easier to
issue a permit for five or ten years at one go? In fact, Rajnath Singh had once
promised me a 50-year visa. But that was only talk — nothing has come of
it and my residence permit has remained subject to annual renewals. Although
many foreign nationals have been living permanently in India with extended
residence permits for a number of years, unlike mine, for many of them, their
permit needs to be renewed every 5 or 10 years.
In 2007, when the CPI (M)
government of West Bengal drove me out of the state in order to appease Muslim
fundamentalists, the UPA government in the centre put me under house arrest in
a cantonment in Delhi — and coerced me to concede leaving India in 2008.
From 2008 till the beginning of
2011, even though my residence permit was regularly renewed, I was not allowed
to live in India.
Around that time, many people had
told me that when the BJP would come to power, I would no longer have to worry
about my residence permit, and that I would be made a citizen and allowed to
live in Kolkata again. I had thought so too.
So, imagine my utter surprise
when, after coming to power in 2014, the BJP government reduced the duration of
my residence permit from a year to two months. And after coming back to power
for the second time, they have yet again revised it from one year to three
months. I don’t know why they have chosen to do so. After living in this
country for 14 years, does the BJP government want to snatch away the ground
beneath my feet yet again?
I don’t know what these three
months signal for me.
I remember how, after I was driven
out of West Bengal, Narendra Modi, who was then the Chief Minister of Gujarat had
declared in a speech that if Bengal could not give security to Taslima, then
they should send her to Gujarat where he would give her security. During his
electoral campaigns in Kolkata, he had demanded to know why I was driven out of
the state and why the Trinamool government that had replaced the CPI(M) had
done nothing to help me return.
Few Indian politicians have ever
spoken in favour of me in public with any authority, like Modi ji has.
Even though I have no favourites
when it comes to politics, I have been grateful to him for having
unhesitatingly supported a persecuted, exiled, truly secular writer such as I.
So, naturally, I assumed I was
going to be free of the ordeal of having to renew my residence permit annually
if he came to power, that I was finally going to be able to live in this
country for real, free to live out the rest of my days and write without any
worries or anxieties.
But even after Modi ji has
come to power, my troubles have remained the same. Rather than worrying less,
this reduction of the duration of my residence permit has only served to
augment my anxieties.
I have done nothing wrong. I have
just been writing. I have been trying to inspire women in our society to become
educated and aware. Despite being a Swedish citizen, a resident of the European
Union and a permanent resident of the US as well, I have chosen India as my
home. All because I speak in an Indian language, I write, think and dream in
it. India truly is my home in that sense — the only place in this
subcontinent where I can think of living. People of this subcontinent are
usually desperate to move to Europe or the USA — I have done the exact
opposite, simply because of my love for this land. I have ignored the promise
of fame and security abroad and chosen to plunge into the uncertainties of
living here.
Yet, even after a quarter-century
of exile and nearly fourteen years of living here, I still feel shivers
crawling down my spine when I see my residence durations reduced abruptly.
I cannot help but worry if one day
it will yet again come down to zero.
Many people believe that the
government of India sustains me — that I am their guest. That’s absolutely
not true. I live with my own money — that is how I sustain myself, and I
also pay a considerable amount in taxes. I am not personally acquainted with
any of the ministers, neither do I know any influential people. I am decidedly
a commoner who lives a very average, regular life. I mix with the common
people, they are the ones who are my daily companions. Since my own country has
moved far away from me in these twenty-five years, since its doors are forever
closed for me, India is my country now.
I have never thought of it as a
foreign land since I truly believe that mere birth does not make a location
someone’s nation — a nation is born of love.
I believe that I love India much
more than many citizens of this country. I am also aware that should they get
citizenship from the EU or a green card from the USA, many so-called patriots
would not blink twice before emigrating.
And here I am, having chosen this
land even after being offered other such options. If India values love at all,
I am certain there will be no problems for me living here in the future.