What it means to be a neighbour

Polarization does not strike suddenly but seeps into society like dampness, gradually eroding the foundations of relationships and community. This insidious process begins subtly, with a neighbor pausing before opening a door, a brief moment that signals a profound societal shift. What once involved walking into a neighbor's house without knocking for tea transforms into a hesitant interaction. This erosion steals intimate knowledge, causing individuals to be seen first by their religion or group affiliation before their name is even recalled.

The greatest victory of communalism, the article argues, is altering perception before inciting violence. When this fundamental shift in gaze occurs, a neighbor begins to feel distant, creating an unmeasurable chasm within society. This 'fire in the eyes' can take a generation to extinguish. The true capital of any society lies not in roads or government offices, but in the unrecorded small interactions: morning tea shop greetings, shared field returns, and the uninvited exchange of festive foods like Eid's sewaiyan and Chhath's thekuwa.

Social harmony is first learned on the footpath, where children play together regardless of religion or caste, sharing sorrow and joy without prejudice. Communal tension, therefore, scorches these unspoken relationships, which take years to form. The ash from a market fire can be swept away the next day, but the ash settled in the heart is far more difficult to clear. In Kaptanganj, Eastern Tarai, the easy trust that once bound people, allowing them to drink tea at each other's shops without accounts and feel secure about their children playing together, has likely been the first casualty. After the inferno, familiar paths feel strange, and a subtle hesitation settles in people's eyes, even as the physical landscape remains unchanged. The breaking of society often occurs not with loud noises, but with quiet, deep-seated hesitation.