Shashi Warrier | Is it always so wrong to sit on the fence?

It’s uncomfortable having friends quarrel in your house. I know, because it happened the other day and I still haven’t got over it. We live a kilometre from the highway that takes people from Kerala to the Mookambika temple in Kollur. Since both my wife and I have roots in Kerala, we have lots of friends and relatives there who sometimes drop in on the way to or from parts north of Mangalore, usually Kollur, but other places as well.
Not all such visits are pleasant. Some weeks ago, we had a visitor from Kozhikode.

He’s 30 years old, a professor at the university, and a staunch leftist: let’s call him Abhay. I know him through his father, a good friend, and I last met this youngster two decades ago, when he was just 10. He was going not to Kollur but to Agumbe, to see if the tribals in the area were being exploited. We had just settled him into a comfortable chair and served him some tea when the doorbell rang a second time. On the doorstep was another friend, from Kannur, a businessman with a successful digital marketing business, who believes that going to the temple is good for him. Let’s call him Anthony.

I welcomed him, too, in, and introduced Anthony and Abhay to each other. And then the friction started. “Are you too on your way to Kollur?” asked Anthony.

“The temple?” responded Abhay. “No way! I don’t believe in such... Things.”

I was relieved he didn’t use a stronger word, but the contempt in his voice came through unmistakably. The function at the Sri Ram temple in Ayodhya was just over, and I knew that people had varied opinions about it. The atmosphere in the room grew chilly, but Anthony kept his cool. “Ah!” he said. “Is that what you teach? Atheism?”

“Well,” replied Abhay, “no. I teach literature. Revolutionary literature. I certainly don’t encourage circuses in the name of religion. Like Ayodhya.”

Anthony turned to me. “And what do you say?” he asked, as if I had a sort of casting vote.

I don’t really believe in going to temples and so on but somewhere in the back of my mind is a fear that maybe there is something to religion so I’m not sure. Besides, I find it hard to label all devotees of Ram part of a political circus. I kept quiet for a few moments, during which Abhay, too, turned to me as if for a decider. “I don’t know,” I said, finally.

The atmosphere changed again. Abhay and Anthony found something in common: their disdain for me. And then Anthony got a call from his wife, who after a couple of minutes of innocuous talk, seemed to mention Israel and Gaza, and Anthony responded supporting Israel. When Anthony hung up, Abhay seemed to come awake. “What Israel is doing is indefensible,” he said.

“Is October 7 defensible, then?” asked Anthony.

“Given how Israel has treated Gazans,” said Abhay, “yes.”

“And how is it that Gaza came to be in this situation, do you remember?” asked Anthony.

I missed some of the rest of the conversation though it was heated because I did remember the Arab-Israeli wars of 1948, 1967, and 1973, and some earlier history, about how the British promised Palestine to the Arabs after the World War I, but reneged on the deal. But then, Judaism’s holiest sites were in Palestine, and so the Jews were first... Or were they? It all hinged on how far back you went, and I’m no historian.

Anthony, patting me on the shoulder, brought me back to the present. “Well,” he asked, “what do you think? Whose land is it?”

“I really don’t know,” I replied. “Depends on how far back you go.”

This time, both of them had trouble hiding their contempt for me. If they hadn’t been in my house they’d have called me names, the mildest of those being “Coward!” Anthony, being closer to me in age, and, besides, an old friend, was the more honest. “How can you not know?” he asked. “Don’t you read the news?”

I admitted I did. I also admitted to being largely unemployed and, therefore, reading history and watching boring old videos on YouTube and listening to podcasts and so on.

Some of Anthony’s honesty seemed to have rubbed off on Abhay, so he picked up where Anthony left off. “If you’ve been doing all that it must be evident to you that Israel is at fault here!”

“I’m afraid it isn’t,” I said, shrinking back into my seat.

“It must be clear to you that it’s Hamas at fault here!” said Anthony. “Just as clear that it’s Ukraine and the West at fault in Ukraine’s war against Russia!”

That stopped their broadsides at me. “It’s that thug Putin at fault!” said Abhay to Anthony. “He had no business in Crimea! That’s what Hitler did in Czechoslovakia in 1939!”

“Nato has no business including Ukraine!” said Anthony. “Especially after all those promises starting 15 years ago that it wouldn’t expand an inch!”

Both were beginning to raise their voices but I was too ignorant and they too disdainful for me to get between them, so I just kept quiet. The one good thing about the situation was that I didn’t have to make small talk, which is something I fear because I’m no good at it.

They argued their way through another cup of tea before leaving, and, when they did, I was only relieved I didn’t get caught up in their debate. Sitting on the fence is uncomfortable, but taking sides is worse!