We were in Bihar on our way from Narendrapur to Patna. Narendrapur is a village near Jiradei, the birthplace of India’s first president, Rajendra Prasad. I was returning after taking part in a reflective workshop on Mahatma Gandhi at the campus of an organisation called Parivartan. Our car had entered the road through Siwan.

As we drove along, I tried to look for familiar landmarks because this was the very road on which, from childhood through adolescence, I had spent countless hours every day. The road was narrow and crowded with people. Our car crawled forward slowly. On both sides of the road, there were women wearing hijabs and burqas.

“So many Muslims in Siwan!” the driver said.

A faint air of tension entered the vehicle, although the driver was merely describing what he saw. He had not expressed an opinion. But it surprised me that the sight of Muslims in Bihar should elicit a comment like this. The community forms nearly 17% of the population, and there is hardly any part of Bihar that Muslims do not live.

“Yes, there is quite a sizeable Muslim population here,” I replied. “I used to live here. I spent my childhood in a Muslim locality, Sheikh Mohalla.” I added, almost defensively, “Everyone used to live together.”

“Living together is a good thing,” the driver agreed.

I felt my back relax a little against the seat.

But the conversation had not ended.

“But sometimes Muslims do mischief,” he said.

Living together was a good thing, yes. But perhaps the driver wanted to explain why, in India, such togetherness often breaks down – or why it could not last. I straightened my back again in my seat.

He offered an example in support of his point: “Just look at what happened in Delhi. A girl merely threw a colour-filled balloon. It hit a Muslim woman. Then her family came with swords and sticks and beat one of the men from the girl’s family so badly that he died. Killing someone over such a small matter cannot be right.”

There was no anger in the driver’s voice. Yet the conclusion he wanted to lead me toward through with this example was clear.

He was referring to the horrific incident in Delhi’s Uttam Nagar on Holi relating to the murder of a young man named Tarun Khatik. The information the driver was giving me was precisely the information most of us had until a day after the incident.

Everyone had been shocked by the news. How could a man be killed merely because a coloured balloon had struck someone?

An argument on Holi spiralled into a clash and eventually led to the death of a man in Delhi's Uttam Nagar. Soon, Hindutva groups alleged that it was a communal hate crime. https://t.co/l7VV3YNWbX@sighyush & @raghavKakkar30 visit the locality to find out what really happened. pic.twitter.com/vhBAoRjkDF— Scroll.in (@scroll_in) March........

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