The enforced disappearance of Najeeb Ahmed from Jawaharlal Nehru University followed an incident of routine violence against him: anti-Muslim violence that has been permanently inscribed in the register of the Indian state. The facts of his disappearance have been enumerated many times (although, like Najeeb himself, even the objective “facts” of the atrocities against him have been erased): he was beaten and given death threats by a group of ABVP students in his hostel room; in a classic case of victim-blaming, he was criminalised for the assault he faced and expelled from hostel. Post his disappearance, he was labelled a terrorist by the Indian media: this Islamophobic narrative has foreclosed even the dimmest expectations of justice for Najeeb. Even justice as mere legal redress has been illusive: buck-passed from the Delhi Police to the Home Ministry’s SIT to the CBI, where it was finally folded up in a closure report and dismissed.
Understanding (in)justice against Najeeb
What is of note here is this: the long legal process undertaken by the CBI, with occasional missives from the Delhi High Court, was simply an investigation into whether the attack on Najeeb actually happened and whether his subsequent disappearance can be blamed upon his assaulters. The fact that Najeeb was not even physically present to deliver his testimony to anyone did not seem to hold water with either the court or the investigative agency.
We can observe a parallel between the outright violence that was perpetrated upon him and the legal authority which failed to rebuke those perpetrators. Hence, can the demand of ‘Justice for Najeeb’ rest simply upon calling upon the CBI to “investigate” the case? To interrogate those who attacked him? To remove those Islamophobic utterances in the media which have maligned him? But each of these demands is delimited by our expectations of the law: our aspiration for justice is circumscribed by legal codes. And even these severely reduced aspirations of justice are defeated, resulting in a perpetual injustice against Najeeb.
But this is in keeping with any other incident of violence against Muslims: episodic violence is soon followed by epistemic violence; in other words, the due process of legal justice that follows after the violence has been committed (that is, if at all the due process is initiated), demands the victim to be further humiliated by having to prove her victimisation. The codes of law are twisted against Muslims: if you insist that you have been targeted by violence and that you deserve the rule of law to ameliorate this injustice, the law will be invoked against you. For example, in both the lynching cases of Akhlaque and Pehlu Khan, FIRs were filed on the basis of laws prohibiting cow slaughter. Imagine the absurdity of the Indian state: it files cases against people who have been killed by murderous mobs. Najeeb faced a similar fate: his disappearance was said to be his own fault.
Therefore, even while our protests for Najeeb are driven by the agenda of demanding accountability from the CBI or the Delhi Police, the enormity of the injustice against him must not be forgotten.
