Imagined hatred is stronger than love

A man sits in his verandah, sipping his morning coffee. A few of his friends and acquaintances come and greet him, and I am asked to relay the command for as many cups of tea as there are people in the room, except me, and 3 of them should have no sugar. I promptly do as told and return hurriedly to listen to the discussion. With a few plebeian remarks about the bad state of the town, begins a sombre discussion. The man is informed that the man living in the next house, who wears a cap is not to be trusted.

An elaborate plan is revealed, that the man in the cap is waiting for a large mob of men wearing caps to appear on the scene, that he will then join and torch this house. Who wants to die a meaningless death, the inquiry goes deeper. Historical and contemporary instances are cited and detailed, where capped men became the majority and upset the quid pro quo. Known figures from all spectrum of thought are quoted, to justify this speculation. Books are presented that recount in detail how systemically the group of cap wearing men has carried out a cleansing project over millennia. Unsure and scared, the man rises, joins this group and they all rise to go to the next house. By the time tea arrives, I am the only one left in the verandah.

This man, who is speculating that his house may be burned, is later seen in the mob outside the house of the man in the cap. You may find this man at different locations depending on his disposition. He may be in the vanguard, bearing a torch, maybe somewhere in the middle shouting war cries or carrying supplies, or maybe in the very back looking curiously at the swelling crowd of balding heads ahead. But contrary to the image of a good neighbour, he wouldn't be seen standing outside the house of the man in cap, facing the crowd.

Suddenly men whose existence has become apparent only with the stories he was just told become a firmer reality than that of the man he sees every day in the next house. The fact that his family gets sugar from the next house when they're running low, gets drowned in the screams of the imagined brethren who fell at the hands of capped men, some time in past and somewhere at a distance. A scared man is a dangerous man.

The man in cap in the next house has observed the crowd that has entered his neighbour's house some time ago. He has seen some faces in the crowd and in their eyes he has seen distrust. A few of the faces were recognisable from houses from the other side. I can't say what goes on in his house because I haven't spent any time there, but I know one thing - he too is scared and a scared man is a dangerous man.

A line has been drawn. Maybe in the course of history it will be erased with erasure of one of the groups. Then a new line may emerge between those who have beard and those who don't. A similar cycle will follow. The only difference will be that, I instead of running inside to call for tea, will be the one being told how the man without the beard, next door, is waiting for a mob to torch my house. Instances will be cited, people quoted and seeds of hatred will be sown once again.