It is not uncommon for friends to become foes, but when neighbours turn hostile and set fire to houses and places of worship, it is not normal. About 200 residents of Chandrabargaon, a hike of 16 kilometres away from Bhagalpur, still cannot come to terms with the killings.

In 1989, communal violence erupted in Bhagalpur and spread to 195 adjacent villages. It left about 2,000 people dead, and a permanent scar on Hindu-Muslim relations in rural Bhagalpur. A deserted mosque at Chandrabargaon bore the brunt of the worst communal violence in the history of Bihar. Close to the mosque, a one-storeyed building stands alone, as the rest of the houses were either burnt down or razed to the ground.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, even the day before the riots. Friday prayers at the local mosque happened as usual; Masood Ansari (name changed) exchanged greetings with Umesh on his way back from the mosque. Daily life was normal; traditionally Muslims were engaged in weaving, and Hindus in agriculture. There were certainly overlaps in occupation. Aman Ansari, another local of Chandrabargaon who now lives in a resettlement colony in Chanderpur, said that everyone was invited to the religious festivals and social programmes of both communities, for weddings in the village, and the village fair was organized every year with contributions from people belonging to both communities.

Ugly memories

In 1989, the Ramjanmabhoomi movement gathered momentum. Members of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad travelled through the district collecting bricks for the Ram temple and performing pujas. Tension prevailed in Bhagalpur town following Muharram. In keeping with the strategy for riot-mongering, some rumours - about 200 Hindu bodies found in a well in Parbatti, a Muslim-concentrated area in Bhagalpur - were floated. Given the volatile situation, on October 24, Ramshila processions cutting across the countryside were to converge in Bhagalpur town. Another rumour was circulated - Muslims had launched a deadly attack on the peaceful Ramshila processions. These were the immediate triggers to the worst communal riots in Bihar. Naushad Ansari, a 55-year-old school teacher in Metiabruz who hails from Bhagalpur, vividly remembers how, in the absence of mobile phones and social media, rumours added fuel to fire.

Historical evidence shows that Bhagalpur had a long history of communal violence since 1924. Till 1989, riots were confined to urban areas of Bhagalpur; but now, communal fury flared up in the adjacent rural areas. Independent surveys estimated that 93 per cent of the slain were Muslims. The worst part is that the police sided with the rioters.

"The riots have made us paupers," Masood says. "It crippled our economic life. Before this, we were the dominant partners in the weaving industry. Now we are without jobs. I could not even educate my children, as survival was then a key priority. To escape the poverty, two of my children left home in their teens. They are still missing." He goes on to say that many of the survivors have lost their land, and the violence has caused irreparable psychological damage. Appalled by the betrayal of neighbours and the police, he says, "the memories of violence haunt me every day. At times, I cannot sleep."

Rehabilitation of the riot victims has received scant attention from the State. Villagers in Chanderpur arranged for food and clothing initially. Deprivation is apparent in the resettlement colony. The survivors have placed their faith in the judiciary. A few years ago, they got some relief, as some of the culprits were convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. Given the rapid polarization in the country, the survivors can see the writing on the wall, but are determined not to allow history to repeat itself.