In a world where walls of hatred are being erected higher each day, there exist hearts that refuse to be hardened. The ones who have been trampled by injustice, whose homes have been reduced to rubble without warning, and whose livelihoods have been snatched away by those wielding power – these very people, with wounds still fresh, are the ones who offer their hands to lift others. Perhaps it is the depth of their own suffering that makes them the most compassionate. Those who have known pain are the first to heal others.
Nowhere was this more evident than at the Mahakumbh Mela, a grand spiritual congregation at Prayagraj where millions gather to cleanse their souls in the sacred rivers. Amidst the sea of saffron and echoes of devotion, another narrative unfolded – one of unsung kindness. When chaos erupted in the form of a stampede, when fear and hunger gripped the weary pilgrims, it was not the privileged who came to their aid. It was the Muslims – those pushed to the margins – who opened their hearts and doors, even as they were ostracised.
When Doors Were Closed, Their Arms Remained Open
The administration had banned Muslims from setting up stalls or doing business at the Mahakumbh Mela. Boycott calls against Muslim traders echoed through radical platforms, turning an age-old marketplace of coexistence into a battlefield of hate. Yet, when the moment of trial arrived, the very people who had been shunned became the saviours.
Despite being barred, Muslim neighbourhoods near the ghats became safe havens for the lost and injured. Mosques, Imambaras, and Dargahs flung open their gates, offering refuge to all – no questions asked, no distinctions made. Water and food were served with hands that had themselves been emptied by bulldozers.
A Sufi Dargah became a shelter for those caught in the chaos. A caretaker, his beard streaked with grey, poured water into parched mouths, whispering words of reassurance. “This water is for the thirsty, not for any religion,” he said, steady like the river that flows without discrimination.
They embodied the Quranic wisdom:“Repel evil with that which is better.” (Surah Fussilat 41:34)
Even in the face of injustice, they chose goodness over bitterness, rising above the cycle of hatred.
Justice Bulldozed, But Humanity Stood Tall
The bulldozer politics of the ruling dispensation left many Muslim families homeless. Under flimsy pretexts, their homes and shops were flattened, their futures reduced to dust. No court orders, no fair warnings – just the thunder of machines crushing their world overnight. And yet, when tragedy struck the Mahakumbh, the ones who had lost everything became the givers.
It is often said, “The candle that has melted knows how to light the darkness of others.” Even as hate speech brewed and slogans of division were shouted, kindness reigned supreme.
An elderly Hindu pilgrim, forehead smeared with vermillion, sat in the courtyard of a mosque, breaking bread with those he had been told were his enemies. “They fed me when I had nothing. They gave me shelter when I was lost. What kind of enemy does that?” he wondered aloud.
The Muslims who came to the aid of the needy followed another Quranic teaching:“They give preference to others over themselves, even when they are in need.” (Surah Al-Hashr 59:9)
Despite being victims of oppression, despite being economically strangled, they still put others before themselves. This was not charity – it was character.
Humanity Above Hatred
Time and again, the oppressed have become the saviours. The Muslims at the Mahakumbh Mela chose Rahm (mercy) over rage, proving that compassion transcends religious lines.
A young man, who had lost his shop to a government directive, was seen helping a frail woman who had fainted from exhaustion. When asked why he was helping when the system had been cruel to his people, he simply smiled and said, “Islam InsaaniyatSikhatahai” (Islam teaches humanity).
Perhaps only those who have tasted hunger truly understand its bite. Perhaps only those who have wandered in the cold understand the warmth of shelter. And perhaps the broken are the kindest because they know what it feels like to be abandoned.
The Eternal Lesson: Kindness is Revolutionary
History will not remember those who chanted hate from podiums or wielded bulldozers as weapons of oppression. But it will remember the silent warriors of mercy, the ones who gave water to the thirsty even when their own wells had been poisoned. It will remember the Muslims at the Mahakumbh Mela, who proved that no amount of hate could shake the foundation of humanity.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught:“The best of people are those who are most beneficial to others.” (Hadith, Al-Mu’jam Al-Awsat 6192)
During the Covid pandemic, when thousands walked barefoot to their hometowns, Muslim communities provided food, water, and even cremated the dead whose own families abandoned them. Their mercy was boundless, their service indiscriminate.
In a world where division is manufactured, where borders are drawn not just on maps but in hearts, the greatest act of defiance is kindness. And so, the broken continue to heal the world, even as their own wounds remain open – because to be broken is not to be weak; it is to be remade stronger, softer, kinder.
Perhaps that is why, as the dust of the stampede will be settling and the river will be carrying away the sins of the pilgrims, what will remain will not be the echoes of hate, but the silent whispers of humanity – being written not in words, but in actions.