Hatred is the new normal
Hate doesn’t erupt overnight. It grows quietly, like poison you do not notice until it is already inside you. Reading about the death of that student in Tripura made me think about writing this, because I have been seeing anger everywhere lately, online and offline, and this one story just stayed with me. And then yesterday, on 28 December, I was in Kottayam, waiting for my food at a small chayakada, when something unfolded right in front of me. A local man started arguing with one of the workers there, a young North Indian guy. At first it was just a normal fight, frustration and raised voices like you see in any crowded shop, but suddenly it turned into hatred and discriminatory slurs. The man threw the word “Bengali” like an insult, and said “do this in your Orissa, not in Kerala.” For a second I just stood there, a little stunned. Kerala is where I always felt tolerance and cultural comfort, so hearing that kind of targeting felt like a crack I did not want to notice.
But what happened next moved me more than the fight itself. People around did not let the comment pass. They defended the worker, told the aggressor to stop, and the room immediately felt different. The boy was not alone. And I remember thinking, this is why Kerala still feels like home, even to outsiders. Where other places have let language and religion and regional pride build walls, here strangers still step up for each other. Karnataka and Tamil Nadu often clash on linguistic lines, North India tears itself with religion and caste, and yet in this moment in Kottayam, I saw unity instead of division. It reminded me that acceptance is still alive, though it needs constant protection.
Still, the incident keeps replaying in my mind. Hate grows quietly, and we often laugh it off until one day it no longer feels surprising. It begins as a joke, a slur, a moment of anger, and then it becomes normal. If we do not confront it every time we see it, one day no one will speak up and it will be too late. I am glad that people stood with the worker yesterday. It made me hopeful. But it also reminded me how fragile harmony is. We cannot let this slow poison spread. If we forget that every stranger is only a stranger until we choose otherwise, we will lose more than just peace. We will lose each other.
