September 10th 1947, New Delhi, India
Dear diary,
I fully understand that it's not my parents fault I was born a Muslim, although deep down in my heart I wish I wasn't. At least I am not a Hindu, I would rather eat coal then be a Hindu. I hate the way they discriminate us, abuse us and treat us unequally. By us I mean the other Muslim pupils at my school. There are fifteen of us in total, each one more cowardly then the next. I can't help being frightened of the Hindu children, they are just menacing in every way. The worst of them all is Punjabi, his father and mine have been enemies since they were young.
I remember once when I was little, I was rammed by a goat. It was a small billy goat, white with a brown spot on its back leg. I thought it was timid, but when I reached over to pet it's head, it charged through the fence, and its horns left a large scratch down my knee.
Punjabi reminded me of this goat. He was timid and unsuspecting, then he would charge at you with all his might, leaving in a large gaping hole in your stomach, defeat.
Violence in the community was growing each day. Faiyaz came home yesterday evening with several large bruises on his arms and face. When mother asked what was wrong he stormed off to his room.
Later I poked my head around the corner of his room to see him crying and staring at his bruises, which had turned from a faint purple to a mixture of deep purple and a sickly green. I was beginning to wonder if my brother had gotten himself into a world of trouble without doing much at all.
Today at school, my friend Devansh and I were sitting on a worn wooden seat at recess, away from Punjabi and his gang. Across the street, a gang of Hindus sauntered down the footpath, swaying side to side. They looked drunk, and when one of them saw us he signalled the others to stop.
He then began yelling at Devansh and I, calling us 'stupid muslims' and telling us we 'didn't belong on the face of the earth.'
I would never understand this war between our two religions, but I would never accept it either. I could never understand why people go out of their way to make others feel worse about their religion.
I knew that was irrational, but when I told mother this afternoon, she heaved a heavy sigh deep from in her lungs and placed her hands on my shoulders.
She told me to stay strong and shrug it off, and that all would be well in the end. I hoped with all my heart that it would be.
Yours sincerely,

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