How a Muslim tailor and Hindu priest fought hate in Ayodhya, India

The light blue walls of Sadiq Ali’s living room are adorned with photos of Hindu seer Mahant Gyan Das. The two have been friends since the 1980s, when Mr. Ali was a volleyball player and Mr. Gyan Das a wrestler. They bonded over their shared love of sports, and Mr. Gyan Das regularly visited Mr. Ali’s family tailoring shop to get his tunics stitched. 

About 20 years ago, their friendship took on a new meaning. Days of violent riots had rocked the nation and left more than 700 Muslims dead. It tore open old wounds in Ayodhya, a north Indian city where the Muslim community was still reeling from the destruction of the historic Babri mosque by a Hindu mob in 1992.  

Sensing the need for an olive branch, Mr. Gyan Das, then head priest of the city’s historic Hanuman Garhi temple, invited 1,000 Muslims to the temple premises during Ramadan to break their daily fast. Mr. Ali helped host the feast, which still fills its organizers with pride and nostalgia – especially as Ayodhya is once again in the spotlight for Hindu-Muslim tensions.

Monday afternoon, Prime Minister Narendra Modi unveiled an opulent Hindu temple on the site where the Babri mosque once stood. Like the mob which leveled the mosque, Mr. Modi and his supporters in the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) claim that Babri was built over the birthplace of Hindu deity Ram, and the construction of the new Ram temple has become a rallying point for India’s growing Hindu nationalist movement. Indeed, Hindus around the world celebrated the temple’s inauguration, which Mr. Modi said marks “the beginning of a new era.” Ayodhya’s Muslim minority worries what that “new era” may hold for them. 

In such polarized times, Mr. Gyan Das and Mr. Ali’s friendship offers a reminder of what Ayodhya could have – and perhaps still can – become: a symbol of multiculturalism and tolerance.

“Ordinary people here want to live in peace,” says Valay Singh, author of “Ayodhya: City of Faith, City of Discord.” He argues that the city’s reputation as India’s “ground zero” of communal conflict overshadows its history as a heartland where different religious traditions have long intersected. In fact, he notes, the land for the Hanuman Garhi temple was donated to the region’s Hindu community by Muslim ruler Shuja-ud-Daula in the 18th century.

“It was a common tradition for the religious establishments to receive patronage from the Muslim rulers,” he says. “This is how the two communities have been intricately linked.”   

As the Ram temple saga draws to an apparent close, Mr. Singh hopes that Ayodhya’s legacy of interfaith harmony will survive.

A bond that inspires bravery

Hate speech, communal violence, and calls for genocide of Muslims have seen a rise in BJP-ruled states in recent years. But this religious strife has deep roots – several weaving back toward Ayodhya.

The destruction of the Babri mosque, for instance, came after decades of campaigning by right-wing Hindu groups, such as the Vishva Hindu Parishad (VHP), and led to months of communal violence across India. In Ayodhya, Muslims and their properties were singled out. Mr. Ali’s shop was plundered multiple times.

“Nothing was spared, not even a spoon,” he says. “We just had the clothes on our body.”

Indeed, the mosque’s demolition and resulting chaos left deep fissures between the Hindu majority and Muslim minority throughout the country. 

Those rifts grew during the 2002 Gujarat riots, which were sparked by a deadly fire on a train carrying Hindu pilgrims from Ayodhya to Godhra, Gujarat. Mr. Modi – then chief minister of Gujarat state – declared the fire an act of terrorism, prompting a wave of anti-Muslim violence in Godhra and beyond. More than 1,000 people were killed, and thousands more injured or displaced, over three days. 

So the following year, Mr. Gyan Das approached Mr. Ali with his idea to organize an interfaith iftar fast-breaking meal at Hanuman Garhi.

At first, the tailor was baffled. He reminded Ayodhya’s most influential seer that after breaking fast, Muslims must offer the namaz prayers. Will the Hindu seers accept prayers to Allah on the temple’s premises?

Mr. Gyan Das was confident they would.

In November 2003, with fanfare and high security, saffron-robed priests from several local temples welcomed their Muslim guests, serving them fruits and yogurt. Around sunset, calls of “Allahu Akbar!” mingled with the sounds of conch shells and temple bells, as rows of Muslims bowed down to read the namaz. Both sides prayed together for peace and brotherhood to prevail across the country.

The Muslim community reciprocated. After the iftar, hundreds of seers marched to Mr. Ali’s home to break the Hindu Ekadashi fast with seviyan, a traditional sweet prepared by Muslims on festive occasions.

Many remember the event as an overwhelming success, but reactions in Ayodhya were split.

Reactions and legacy

Some of Mr. Gyan Das’ peers fiercely opposed the iftar, and the VHP held a 10-day demonstration accusing the priest of defiling the temple’s sacred premises. Religious hardliners filed a petition to ban such events in the future. 

But many remember Muslims broadly welcoming the Hindu-led peace effort, with the horror of 1992 and the fallout of the Gujarat riots fresh in their minds. “Gyan Das took the bold initiative at great personal risk when the entire country was seething over the deaths” of the Godhra pilgrims, says Ram Shankar “Guddu” Yadav, a friend of Mr. Ali who helped host the seers. 

The iftar also inspired Yugal Kishore Shastri, one of few outspoken Hindu priests who have left the far-right and put their faith in the spirit of Indian secularism. 

Mr. Shastri says he split from the VHP after discovering that there was “no evidence of an ancient Ram temple under the mosque structure,” describing the theory as “an elaborate lie.” He has since dedicated his life to promoting communal harmony, organizing three interfaith iftars modeled after the 2003 feast and speaking out against the construction of the new Ram temple. 

“Ayodhya’s seers have an obligation to maintain peace,” he says. 

Although it’s getting harder for activists to cut through the vitriol and bring communities together – let alone find collaborative solutions to conflicts like the mosque-temple debate – he is confident that future generations of seers will walk in Mr. Gyan Das’ footprints. “There will always be a place for people who work for Hindu-Muslim peace,” he says. “Such initiatives will organically find ways to grow.”

In the meantime, Mr. Ali is still active in his shop, and Mr. Gyan Das has retired. Once a fierce opponent of the temple plan, the former priest has become reclusive after a brain hemorrhage in 2019 and largely avoids public interaction. Mr. Ali, of course, is an exception.

“He was here a few days ago,” Mr. Gyan Das said recently during a rare interview. “He will always be my friend.”