In the first of this gripping two-part series, a young Hindu describes an unfortunate event where he confronted a group of troublemakers at his community Navratri event, where the security were not discharging their duties. The confrontation set off a chain of events which ended in him having to spend the night in a police cell, followed by a long drawn out court case. Such events are not isolated, and have been an unfortunate part of our Navratri celebrations in Britain.

(Part two of this article is also now available)

Navratri has always been my favorite event in the Hindu calendar. A time when Hindus young and old come together to worship mother Shakti and have fun while doing it. A time when there is something to look forward to every evening as the nights grow cold and dark. All are welcome and all, generally, tend to have a great time.

Five years ago, however, the atmosphere was not so jovial. Having moved away for University only a few weeks earlier I returned home especially to take my two younger sisters to celebrate the last day of the festival at my community event in Chiswick, west London. As I greeted old friends and family I noticed a teenage girl crying. A few meters away three security guards surrounded a stocky man with a shaven head.

“This is the third complaint we have had about you all night, you need to calm down mate,” one of the security guards meekly told the man.

“What the **** you gonna do about it?” the man barked at the guard.

Visibly scared, another guard said: “Calm down Jas we don’t want any trouble. We had to talk to you because a young boy and girl have complained about you and said that you kicked one of them.”

“So what? I’m a gangster – none of you mans here can do anything to me!” the man boasted back.

I turned to my 15 year old cousin and asked who the man was. He told me that they were a group of Afghan Sikhs, who had been coming to the event since the first day. At first they had been the only ones sitting during the Arti prayers but had not shown any disrespect towards the event. Then, they had slowly begun to become more boisterous as each day passed – usually getting drunk in the car park and intimidating people inside.

“Why hasn’t anyone told them to **** off?” I asked.

“Everyone is too scared, and the security guards don’t want any hassle so they turn a blind eye. The community elders still keep selling them tickets – after all its money for them,” he replied.

Hundreds of Hindus in the hall every night and none willing to confront the men? I felt disgusted.

“Listen bruv, this place is open to everyone but don’t take the piss. If you want to get drunk and bully people on a Saturday night go to Leicester Square, it’s only down the road,” I said as I stepped in between the guards.

“Who the **** are you little boy? You wanna get brave – come outside now!” he said with the stink of alcohol on his breath.

With my heart beating hard inside my chest I gulped the lump in my throat and followed him to the sports centre lobby, ignoring my cousin’s pleas to “allow him.” Out of nowhere two of his friends surrounded me as he turned and said: “So you think you’re a hero little boy?” while pointing a dandia at me. From behind I felt someone slowly digging the end of another dandia into my back as if to warn me that my next words could be my last. The security guards looked on but did nothing to try and quell the chaos that was about to erupt.

Knowing that besides two other friends, who were only 18 like myself, I had nobody to support me, I chose my words carefully.

“If you are a real man you will tell your friends to back off and we will do this one on one.”

Nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, he smiled and ordered his friends to back off.

“Follow me!” he screamed, as he marched into the toilets.

With pride and adrenaline controlling my emotions, I followed.

“Drop your stick!” he snapped as we stood in the lavatory saturated with the stench of urine.

“You drop yours first,” I replied.

His face grimaced and voice growled as he took the dandia in his right hand and swung for my jaw. Luckily I managed to dodge backwards and the wood missed me by an inch as it cracked into the wall beside me. As I swung my own dandia for the top of his skull four security guards piled in and threw us both out of the building.

“Why are you kicking me out?” I protested. “I have been coming here since I was a kid and my little sisters are inside – it was those guys that caused the trouble.” The guard recognized me and told me to go back inside and ignore any more provocation from the group. As I looked outside I saw the bald man’s friends also pleading with another guard whilst the bald man paced up and down and shouted in Pashtun into a mobile phone.

Five minutes later one of the elderly organizers of the event came out and told them that if they were willing to pay for another entry ticket he was happy for them to be allowed back in.

I stood there shocked to see them being allowed to re-enter, dandias in hand. As they stomped back in the man that had tried to me pointed his stick back at me and roared:

“As soon as you leave this place you are going to get murdered!”

Remembering the security guard’s warning not to respond I looked back with a smile to show I wasn’t afraid. But my calm was all a façade; inside I was worried. Who had he called on the phone? What was going to be waiting for me when I walked out? More importantly, what would happen to my two little sisters?

To be continued in the next issue of Hindu Voice UK…