The protagonist of Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata is unlike anyone I’ve encountered in any book. Keiko is quietly charming, yet deeply unconventional. She’s content with her simple routine at a convenience store, a place she has worked for over 18 years. This does not gel well with people around her who expect her to climb the career ladder, or “at least get married”, instead of sticking to this “lowly” job. They are unable to comprehend her happiness or her emotional detachment in situations where strong feelings are typically expected. In her own words, she’s a “foreign object.”
There are parts of Keiko’s personality I could relate to, especially her tendency to operate more from the brain than the heart. I’ve often questioned this trait in myself, particularly in political matters, where I naturally lean toward a calculated, strategic view rather than reacting emotionally. This sometimes makes people see me as cold. But that’s where my similarities with Keiko end.
I tend to get deeply emotional about things that may not always move others in the same way. My responses aren’t absent, like Keiko’s. I cry easily when I see children being affectionate with their parents or when animals are hurt. I feel emotional and distraught when I see small children picking up guns or stones in conflict zones. I want them to study and grow up contributing to society in peaceful ways. I well up seeing warmth in society. For example, when the visually impaired children sang “Happy Birthday” to our Indian President Murmu, she cried, I cried, we all cried. I’m also deeply moved by the struggles of elderly people, perhaps because I’ve spent time with them and seen what many others, especially those living far from their parents, often overlook. I do feel deeply, just not always in ways others expect, a bit like Keiko.
If you are wondering what makes Keiko strange, this snippet from the book gives an idea:
I wouldn’t say I loved Convenience Store Woman, but it was certainly thought-provoking, especially how society treats you as a “foreign object” that needs to be discarded if you don’t follow the rules. Society insists Keiko must adapt to its norms to be seen as “normal.” It does not matter to them how fulfilled or happy she is. Keiko’s struggle to meet societal expectations forms the core of the novel. Many of us might relate to this struggle with conformity. Not everyone is wired to follow every rule or expectation to the letter.
Ending this post with some thought-provoking quotes from the book:
The normal world has no room for exceptions and always quietly eliminates foreign objects. Anyone who is lacking is disposed of.
He seemed to have this odd circuitry in his mind that allowed him to see himself only as the victim and never the perpetrator l thought as I watched him.
It occurred to me that it wasn’t such a stretch to say that contemporary society was still stuck in the Stone Age after all. So the manual for life already existed. It was just that it was already ingrained in everyone’s heads, and there wasn’t any need to put it in writing. The specific form of what is considered an “ordinary person” had been there all along, unchanged since prehistoric times I finally realized.
“Look, anyone who doesn’t fit in with the village loses any right to privacy. They’ll trample all over you as they please. You either get married and have kids or go hunting and earn money, and anyone who doesn’t contribute to the village in one of these forms is a heretic.”
There’s so much I want to say about Being Hindu in Bangladesh, a book written by Avishek Biswas and Deep Halder, but I don’t think my words would do justice to my emotions. Whatever I write would be a watered-down version of what I felt while reading.
The authors are sons of refugees who once fled Bangladesh. They wrote this book during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, a time when they could safely visit Hindu areas and speak openly with locals, scholars, and researchers about the past.
It was a deeply uncomfortable read. Especially as I kept coming across recent posts from people in Bangladesh on Reddit, worried about the country slipping back into radicalism. It felt like history was repeating itself. On top of that, there were people, including the global and Indian left-leaning media, trying to downplay the communal angle in Bangladesh so as not to flare up Islamophobia. As an ex-leftist, this behaviour is all too familiar. I was once part of that ecosystem.
Despite being a Hindu, I could not acknowledge the persecution that Hindus faced in neighbouring regions. The data was there for everyone to witness, yet I was blind. I believe this is true for many Hindus. We are raised with strong secular values, which often makes it uncomfortable to openly acknowledge or speak about atrocities against our own community. Personally, it was difficult to break out of that mindset and accept the reality that Hindus did face genocide in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Kashmir. Adding to that is the consistent bias of left-leaning media, which often avoided reporting anti-Hindu communal incidents both in India and abroad. This selective activism played a key role in my decision to step away from the leftist ecosystem.
Sahidul’s narrative states: ‘The genocide orchestrated and masterminded by Pakistan, began on the night of March 25, 1971 … Three million were killed (in East Pakistan), 200,000 to 300,000 women were violated in the most diabolic ethnic cleansing since the days of the Holocaust. And these are just rough estimates. How much does the world or even the subcontinent talk about it?
Most Painful Part of the Book
The most aching part for me was the quiet optimism in the book. Written during Sheikh Hasina’s rule, the authors were hopeful about the secular path Bangladesh was taking. They welcomed the ban on JeI and the arrests of those involved in the Hindu genocide of 1971. I read those pages, and then Al Jazeera’s headline from a few days back: “Bangladesh Supreme Court lifts ban on Jamaat-e-Islami.” I feel a mixture of emotions.
The authors also appreciated the death sentence awarded to a Jamaat leader involved in the 1971 genocide of Hindus. That sentence, too, has now been overturned in current-day Bangladesh under Yunus’s rule. Makes you wonder – is justice so fickle?
Opposition to Bengali Because It Was Too “Hindu”
From the book, I learned that Pakistan was opposed to Bengali in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) because they considered the language “too Hindu” as opposed to Urdu. When East Pakistan demanded a new nation on the basis of Bengali culture, Pakistan thought Hindus were responsible for this “brainwashing”, which is what led to the genocide.
The Pakistani Army launched Operation Searchlight for complete cleansing of the Bengali and Hindu identity. Even the press secretary of the third president of Pakistan, Yahya Khan, said that this operation was to ‘brainwash the people, wean them off their Bengali mores and make them true Pakistanis … The Hindu influence must be eradicated root and branch and the people who were misguiding the innocent and illiterate masses must be liquidated.’
Tagore’s Home Vandalized in Bangladesh. News Source: NDTV
Truth be told, I was thinking while reading the book, how long would it take for the pro-Pakistan radicals in Bangladesh to go after anything related to Tagore, the Hindu writer of Bangladesh’s anthem “Amar Sonar Bangla” (My Golden Bengal), and then the vandalism of Tagore’s home happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if they replace the anthem, too, at some point in the future.
Jogendra Nath Mandal – The Dalit Leader Who Chose Pakistan
It’s from the book that I came across the name Jogendra Nath Mandal for the first time. He was a Dalit leader and a close associate of Dr. Ambedkar. At the time of Partition, Mandal chose to side with Pakistan, believing it would offer Dalits greater freedom and rights than a Hindu-majority India. He motivated many Dalits to migrate with him, promising an escape from caste oppression.
Mandal, the man who wanted Pakistan to become a land of Dalits and Muslims.
But what they found was a harsher reality. Regret followed soon after. Mandal eventually fled Pakistan and returned to India. Sadly, many Dalits who followed him to Pakistan lacked his privilege and means and were left behind. His popularity waned after that, and he died a lonely death in West Bengal. To quote the book:
Mandal had come to India from East Pakistan as a broken man. Arguably, the tallest Dalit politician in pre-partition East Bengal, Mandal had lost most of his followers after he chose Pakistan over India, stood with Muhammad Ali Jinnah and became the law and labour minister. Mandal had thought Dalits and Muslims would behave like brothers in the newly-created Pakistan. They didn’t, and as communal tension rose and Hindus left East Pakistan for India in large numbers, Jogendranath Mandal came to be looked at as a short-sighted leader at best and a self-serving politician at worst.
Dr. Ambedkar, upon learning about the persecution of Dalits in Pakistan, urged them to return to India. However, most were unable to leave, trapped by circumstances beyond their control.
I encourage everyone to read the following Reddit post that offers a more complete account of Jogendra Nath Mandal’s life. It includes his resignation letter to the Prime Minister of Pakistan and Dr. Ambedkar’s heartfelt appeal to Dalits living there.
Mandal’s story reminds us never to forget history or its lessons. These accounts were documented by key figures of that era for a reason. Not to be ignored, but to help us reflect, understand, learn, and avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future.
Quotable Quotes from Being Hindu in Bangladesh
‘Yes, only two people might have died in Noakhali in last year’s violence. But look around and you will find boys and men without an arm or a leg walking around. They will remind you of what was.’
What was it like in 1946? When freedom from 200 years of British rule was becoming a reality, Bengali-Hindu women and men, in village after village in Noakhali district of undivided Bengal, the same place where we now are, were r*ped and killed, or forcibly converted. Then too, it had started with fake news.
‘I have never been able to forget those days,’ she says, ‘when neighbours became rioters and friends became murderers. The stench of blood haunts me to this day.’
‘I remember he would come and tell us to make sure no one made any sound, and make sure that the children remained silent. It should appear from outside that the college building was deserted. Or else, a mob could come and kill us all. But my seven-month-old sister cried out in hunger. We gave her some treacle to make her stop crying, but she would start wailing soon after. My father told us that we had to kill her as she simply wouldn’t stop crying. And her wails would bring the mob to us. She cried and cried, till she cried no more.’
In other riots, religion was the point of disagreement. In Noakhali, religion was also the instrument that ended the disagreement. The attacks in Noakhali on Hindus by Muslims ended when the Hindus became Muslims.
‘But it’s a mistake that all democratic governments make in trying to control one set of extremists. They often play with the other set that looks less worse than the other (but) in the course of time, they all become Frankensteins’ he said.
There’s something about discovering forgotten buildings where powerful men once lived, touring villages where they spent their boyhood. It is like sifting through dog-eared, yellowed pages of history. So much of what once was still hangs in the air. So many stories are kept alive by village elders who saw history take shape.
Conclusion
The book details several atrocities that are too graphic to include in this blog post. I strongly encourage everyone to read Being Hindu in Bangladesh for a clearer and unbiased understanding of the condition of Hindus in the country.
A recent set of DEI studies explores a critical question: Do the ideas and narratives central to many DEI trainings truly promote inclusivity and empathy?
Or do they end up deepening divisions and fueling hostility toward groups labeled as oppressors?
DEI Study Source: static.foxnews.com/foxnews.com/content/uploads/2024/11/anti-oppressive-dei-report-8.pdf
Social Experiment #1 – Exposing One Group to DEI Essays
The study found that individuals exposed to DEI material were more likely to perceive problems even where none existed. For example, one group was presented with a DEI essay by Ibram X. Kendi and Robin DiAngelo, while another group was not. Both groups were then asked to analyze the following scenario:
A student applied to an elite East Coast university in Fall 2024. During the application process, he was interviewed by an admissions officer. Ultimately, the student’s application was rejected.
A simple, straightforward survey. The scenario was deliberately created without mentioning the race or ethnicity of either the student or the admissions officer and contained no indicators of racism. Participants were then asked to evaluate the scenario using questions meant to assess how much racism they perceived in the interaction.
Results: The analysis showed that participants who read the Ibram X. Kendi/Robin DiAngelo essay developed a hostile attribution bias. They viewed the admissions officer as significantly more prejudiced compared to those who read a neutral essay. Despite no evidence of discrimination in the scenario:
Perceived discrimination rose by 21%
Perceived unfair treatment increased by 12%
Perceived harm to the applicant rose by 26%
Perceived microaggressions jumped by 35%
These strong results led NCRI to replicate the experiment with a national sample of college students, confirming that the effects were not limited to the original set of students. The follow-up study found similar outcomes.
Social Experiment #2 – Exposure to Anti-Islamophobia Training
Similarly, a nationally representative sample was recruited via Amazon Prime Panels to assess the impact of anti-Islamophobia content. Participants were shown two identical terrorism trial scenarios, one involving Ahmed Akhtar and the other George Green, both convicted of the same crime. In the group that did not receive anti-Islamophobia training, both trials were perceived as equally fair, showing no inherent bias or perception of Islamophobia. However, in the group exposed to anti-Islamophobia content, perceptions shifted: while views on George’s trial remained unchanged, Ahmed’s trial was rated as significantly less fair.
This indicates that exposure to anti-Islamophobia messaging led participants to perceive bias where none existed, introducing a new bias in favor of Ahmed despite both cases being identical.
These results suggest that anti-Islamophobia training may lead people to assume discrimination against Muslims, even in the absence of actual bias.
Concerns: How much is too much?
This reflects a broader concern. The DEI programs that heavily emphasize victimhood and systemic oppression may unintentionally distort perceptions of fairness, as also seen in the case of Hindu Brahmins. While these trainings aim to highlight real injustices, they also foster hostile attribution bias, a tendency to see prejudice where none exists.
Such distortions risk undermining public trust in institutions, even when those institutions are acting fairly. This is especially troubling given that these institutions, such as ISPU, also provide Islamophobia sensitivity training to federal agents.
Food for Thought
It makes us, Indians, reflect on our own perspectives too. How much of what we believe is shaped by personal thought and observation, and how much is simply absorbed from what we’ve read, heard, or been told?
We’re constantly surrounded by voices telling us what’s right, what’s wrong, what to support, and what to reject, so much so that we often stop thinking critically. We rely on others to give us the “truth,” but how can we be sure those sources are unbiased or even complete?
In the pursuit of justice, I see a troubling pattern: one group being demonized, while another’s wrongdoings are overlooked. That’s not justice, it’s imbalance.
True justice can only be achieved when we hold all sides accountable, without bias, without exception. To do that, we need to cultivate a rational, balanced mindset, one that isn’t rigid or exclusionary. Listen to all sides, and stand with the truth, not with narratives that vilify entire communities or sections of society.
The following snippet is from a DEI study by the Network Contagion Research Institute (NCRI) in the U.S. The diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) program, originally meant to raise awareness, appears to have backfired in some areas. By framing everything through an “oppressor vs. oppressed” lens, it has ended up vilifying the Hindu Brahmin community, similar to the Jewish community.
While DEI narratives often focus on Islamophobia and racial discrimination, caste-based bias among American Hindus has largely remained outside the spotlight. Though widely recognized in India, caste discrimination has only recently started gaining attention in the U.S., leading to the introduction of caste-sensitivity training in schools, workplaces, and policy discussions. But did they have the desired effect? Studies show otherwise.
The vilification of Brahmins began in India, where they are often targeted for everything, from their dietary habits to their lifestyle choices. What should have remained a focused activism against caste discrimination has unfortunately expanded into a broader mockery of the community as a whole. Even Brahmins who reject caste-based thinking are not spared.
Like anyone else, a Brahmin does not choose the caste they are born into. So, isn’t attacking them solely for their birth also a form of casteism? Every community should be open to critique for its flaws, but no one should be dehumanized for simply existing.
Awareness is important, but this study shows that excessive activism can cross a line and end up vilifying an entire community. In the findings, respondents described Brahmins as “parasites,” “viruses,” and “the devil personified.” How is that fair, or even acceptable, in the name of social justice?
The Love Queen of Malabar is a captivating exploration of the life of Kamala Das, also known as Kamala Surayya, one of India’s most celebrated poets. Written by Merrily Weisbord, the book is thought-provoking, highly controversial, poetic, melancholic, and at times, shocking.
Kamala Das shares her deepest emotions with Merrily, treating her as a confidante in revealing thoughts that range from lyrical to unexpected. While the book may not appeal to everyone, it left a lasting impression on me—an eye-opener that offered a rare glimpse into the intimate world of a literary icon.
I have carefully selected some non-controversial quotes from the book. Not everything Kamala says can be shared publicly due to its sensitive nature. However, the quotes listed here provide insight into Kamala’s thoughtful persona and capture the essence of Merrily’s book.
“A writer moves away from family, old relationships, very far with the speed of a falling star,” she says. “Otherwise the writer is destroyed, and only the member of the family remains: the mother, sister, daughter, wife. The writer at some point must ask, Do I want to be a well-loved member of the family? Or do I want to be a good writer? You can’t be both at the same time. The days when you are with the children and are being a very good mother, you cease to be the writer. You feel repelled by the pen and the paper, which are definitely going to come between you and your loved ones.”
“Because the writer can give all of herself only to that task of writing. She will have to write against her loved one, put him under the microscope, dissect him, analyze his thoughts, his words. After a while he is no longer the man you held in your arms at night. You have cut him into little slivers, everything is burst open, he is seeds and pulp and juice all spread out in little bits on your writer’s table. After that, you can’t go to his arms the same way.”
If I had not learned to write how would I have written away my loneliness or grief? Garnering them within my heart would have grown heavy as a vault, one that only death might open, a release then I would not be able to feel or sense.
“Ask the books that I read why I changed,” she says. “Ask the authors dead and alive who communicated with me and gave me the courage to be myself.”
“Make a woman laugh, then make her cry, that is the secret of a good film. Not make her cry, cry, cry. What message is that for women today?”
Her dislike of organized religion is so much more pronounced than on my last visit that I wonder if any beliefs remain to comfort her. “Yes,” she answers. “A concept of God. A presence in my room. I’m not alone. I visualize a shower of moonlight falling on someone in prayer. It is a soothing exercise. I feel bathed in light, and I know there is a God.”
She tells me that even in Kerala, which prides itself on religious coexistence, she is still being attacked from both sides. The Hindu Sangh Parivar, an association of Hindu nationalist organizations, protests her ownership of the snake shrine on her own ancestral property at Nalapat because she is a Muslim. The Muslims are “disgusted” with her because she speaks against their practices and clergy, refusing to support sectarian politics she finds unpalatable. “They feel they are losing their grip on me.”
A ceasefire and hostage deal is close to being reached, with plans to start on Monday. However, some people on both sides want the situation to stay the same.
The ceasefire has not yet started and a journalist from Gaza is already talking about destroying Israel.
Source: x.com/bayanpalestine
Meanwhile, a far-right Israeli politician wants the Gaza war to continue.
Source: The Times of Israel
How long can this hate continue?
One thing is clear: things cannot go on as they are. Israel must implement the two-state solution right away and remove illegal settlements. This doesn’t mean Israel should give up its land, but rather stick to the established boundaries.
If Gaza wants peace, they must abandon the idea of revenge. Israelis are unlikely to give up their land without a fight. They would rather use extreme measures, including nuclear weapons, to destroy their land themselves than give it up. They are driven by strong nationalist sentiments.
Many countries have lost land due to disputes. India lost territory to Pakistan, and Pakistan lost land to Bangladesh. The Kashmiri Pandits were displaced from their homes. Now, imagine if these countries and communities harbored the same revenge mentality and resorted to violence to reclaim their lost land. It would lead to chaos worldwide, including in Muslim countries, with countless lives lost. At some point, peace with reality must be made and the past let go. Constantly planning the next bombing or uprising only results in more innocent lives being lost.
The only way forward is peace. A two-state solution should be established, and both countries must learn to coexist. The benefits are clear: Gaza could leverage Israel’s expertise to develop infrastructure and technology that could improve life for its people. Israel, in turn, could benefit from employing Gazan workers, as it did before October 7. Left to its own devices, Gaza would likely be under Hamas, whose focus is primarily on warfare rather than development.
Supporters worldwide, rather than calling for constant war, should recognize the importance of peace and coexistence.
Yet, all this seems like a distant dream.
If serious measures are not implemented to change the status quo, both Israel and Gaza will continue to live without peace. It’s easy for us to sit in our comfortable armchairs in distant countries, encouraging war and violence on social media, while those living in the conflict zones become the true casualties.
We support violence, only to condemn it later. It’s a vicious cycle that repeats, leading to the loss of many lives, yet we fail to learn from our mistakes.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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