Medha Kulkarni

For the past three or four months, some elements have tried to vitiate the atmosphere in Maharashtra. Riots were orchestrated in Nagpur, and some political leaders are still spewing venomous rhetoric. In such a divisive climate, many of us—like me—feel that the best response as citizens is to foster harmony.

While I was thinking along these lines, my friend Vijay Tambe’s comment on a Facebook post of another friend, Ganesh Kanate, struck a chord. He wrote that on Eid, “We should visit a nearby mosque and wish our Muslim brothers. On reading this, I wondered—why didn’t I think of such a simple action? In an environment where Hindus are being pitted against Muslims, what better day than Eid to express the goodwill in our hearts?

So, a few of us from Dindoshi, Goregaon, decided to act. It was a simple plan: on the morning of Eid, we’d go to a nearby mosque and offer our greetings. That’s it—a small, simple gesture. We later learned that similar efforts were planned across Maharashtra that day—in Pune, Satara, Wardha, etc,.

Close to my place, there’s a Muslim-majority area called Pathanwadi. We chose the Noorani Mosque there. It’s a spacious five-story structure on the bustling Rani Sati Marg. I’d visited the area a couple of times during my morning walks and even chatted with locals to get a sense of the place.

Four days ago, on Eid morning, seven of us gathered outside the mosque around 9 a.m. A handful of police officers sat calmly out front. The morning prayers had just ended, and many had already headed home. Had we arrived an hour earlier, we’d have met more people, but since it was Eid, there was still a relaxed flow of visitors.

We began our interaction by wishing everyone “Eid Mubarak”. Our presence seemed to have caught them off guard—in a good way. They found it surprising, even delightful. Soon, we were discussing the current state of the country and Maharashtra. Some of us used to proudly tell relatives and friends outside the state about Maharashtra’s unique inclusiveness. “But now,” a few of them said, “we’re not so sure if that pride still holds.”

Moinuddin called some members of the mosque’s committee to join us. While we waited, we clicked a few photos outside. When the committee members arrived, they warmly invited us inside to see the mosque. What followed was a heartfelt chat.

Medha Kulkarni with others inside the mosque

They shared details about the mosque’s activities—like how donations collected during Ramzan are used to help the needy, regardless of religion.

They recalled an incident a couple of years ago when a wall near Ambedkar Nagar, a large settlement in our area’s Pimpripada, collapsed during the rains. “We raised 1.4 million rupees to help,” one of them said proudly and others nodded in agreement.

We also learned that Mumbai’s Juma Masjid near Crawford Market has been hosting a weekly “Know your mosque” program for years, a practice adopted by many mosques, including Noorani. “Bring your friends to visit,” Amanbhai urged us.

“We’re all children of the same soil. Conversations like these should happen more often—it’ll render the lies and rumors meaningless.” They kept repeating this, and we even brainstormed ways to keep this connection alive moving forward.

Before we left, they offered us chilled rose sharbat, a refreshing treat. As we headed home, another friend—who’s never missed bringing us homemade sheer khurma for the past four years—showed up. Plus, my morning walk buddy Zarina had already invited me over for some festive snacks.

As the saying goes, “Wherever I go, I find my siblings!”

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A special, heartfelt thanks to Vijay Mukund Tambe for suggesting this small yet meaningful act. Friends, try something like this yourselves. The mosque’s name is Noorani—radiant, like its meaning, “light.” May all our lives shine with the light of humanity.

Medha Kulkarni is a Mumbai-based social activist.

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