Once the formality of “all is well”, “things are calm”, “we live together” was over, a strange argument began between Zahid and Manu. It was strange because they did not argue between themselves, but through me.

“I want to know: why were cameras and stones near our shops broken?” Manu asked authoritatively, implying that Hindu shops were selectively targeted. “And I can tell you that it was not an outsider who destroyed the cameras and stones.”

“Well, we did not break it,” Zahid told me.

Manu: “The cameras have been broken by those who live here. The situation is calm, yes, but why did they do such a thing?”

Zahid: “Sir, we did not break it. We were shooing away troublemakers. They weren’t broken under our watch. I would take instant action if I find out who did it.”

Manu: “I’m not saying you broke it, but since we were all guarding the area and did not let others enter, did you not see who broke the cameras?”

Zahid: “But sometimes, there’s a crowd of 200 people in a colony of 50. Not everyone is a local. It can have bad elements as well – mischief-makers and drug addicts.”

Zakir and Zahid, who were on the defensive thus far, tried to go on the offensive. The Choudharies, and Zakir and Zahid were addressing me, and, indirectly, each other.

Zakir Ali: “Many Muslim shops on the main road have been torched. If we were to say they were all outsiders, then how would they have known which shop and homes belonged to whom? This raises a question: did locals contribute to the plan?”

The wise Ram Lal tried to reconcile: “Granted that cameras were broken. But we didn’t see whether it was a local or an outsider. It could’ve been either. There are antisocial elements in every crowd.”

Zahid ahaa-ed in agreement. “Yes, that is right,” he said.

Ram Lal: “And as for the targeted shops on the main road, that targeting didn’t happen here. One does not know what kind of people are in a mob. We know that our locality lives together with much affection.”

There was a deadlock in the room and one could feel it. These were inconvenient and nestling questions, and the answers were no different. An indirect argument had occurred, and it was clear the men thought it better to settle it through comforting, vacuous platitudes than painful answers.

Zahid had granted resolution to the camera argument, but Ram Lal’s answer to Muslim shops and homes being sought out for arson was too vague. As if to end the tension, Zakir found a bait and drove the conversation to an end: “There has been a flux of migrants in this colony over the past few years. Who knows what these people are like? It is possible that they participate in this madness, and old residents like us have to suffer.”Everyone agreed.

***

On February 27, I met the family of Parvender Kumar Singh, 34, in Brijpur. Singh is a manager at a private company in Karawal Nagar, and was stuck on Gamli Road on the night of February 24, when violence first broke out in the area. He returned home the next day with the help of the CRPF.

Parvender’s brother, Manoj, had locked himself in their house that day, when a Muslim mob from Mustafabad – across the drain from Brijpur – had pelted stones at the locality.

“Hindus and Muslims of our bylane stopped them together,” Manoj told Newslaundry.

In gali number 4, there are almost as many Muslim homes as Hindu ones. The evening I visited the area, Muslim men were manning the street’s entrance. Manoj and Parvender’s Hindu neighbour left on February 25, but the Singhs stayed back.

“We stay vigilant all night. Even the smallest noise causes disturbance here,” claimed Parvender.

The Singh brothers said the relationship between Hindus and Muslims in his street has fractured. “They don’t talk to us much since the violence, and neither do we talk to them,” Parvender said. “In better times, we would hang out at each other’s homes. But now the Muslims behave as if they don’t know us. They mill about among themselves, and we do the same.”

As calm limps back in North East Delhi, the common refrain across localities is that “our Muslims” are alright, but “others” from outside are undesirables. This attitude seems to stem from a couple of factors: in a space as local as a street, impressions about each other stem from personal relationships; and in localities like Brijpur, which is Hindu-dominated, confidence in the “other” is boosted by the assurance of numbers.

“The Muslims here are safe. They are roaming about normally on the streets,” said Sudhanshu Sharma, 45, a priest at the Shiv temple in gali number 7 of Brijpur. “There are 30-35 percent of them here.”

About seven young men stood outside the Shiv temple with sticks and rods, and they would be there until 7 am. They’ve been on guard since February 26, when a midnight rumour spooked Hindus in North East Delhi. “My sister called me and said a Muslim mob from Karawal Nagar was headed here to destroy temples. It was 2 am,” the priest told me. The mob, of course, never came.