In January of 2001, the western-most state of India, Gujarat, experienced an earthquake which reached magnitudes between 7.6 and 7.7 (RS). As the earthquake radiated from the city of Bhuj—the epicenter—wide-spread destruction followed. The district of Kutch was the most devastated; an estimated 70% of the buildings in the region were destroyed. For Kutch, the measurement of time is no longer BC-AD, BCE-CE, AH or any other abstract notion; the timeline for Kutch is now relative to before and after the earthquake.

Despite Gujarat’s reputation for being plagued by communal tensions and violence, Kutch is distinct from the rest of the state, it is known for having markedly less tension, and Kuthchies consider themselves to be above the type of communal violence that afflicts the rest of Gujarat. However, during the time we spent in Kutch and through the interviews we conducted there, I began to realize they were right: although there are communal tensions there, the latent tension has never been translated into violence. However, those who spoke to our group about the absence of violence in Kutch are only right, if they define violence as “direct violence,” that is the physical harm of others. Since 2001, however, Kutch has seen an undisputable increase in structural and cultural violence.

The onslaught of aid from within India and from abroad brought with it the seeds of fundamentalism. Along with international NGOs and IOs came right-wing Hindu and Wahabist Muslim groups which brought their own brand of assistance. In Kutch, we heard from Hindus and Muslims about the unfettered discrimination of these groups in both blocking and receiving aid. The assistance was conditional upon the given family or community to not sharing with their Muslim or Hindu neighbors. In the reconstruction phase of the post-disaster recovery, homes were built in homogeneous pockets, adding geographic distinction religious communities and literal separation. Villages where Hindus and Muslims once coexisted in heterogeneous communities became strictly Hindu or purely Muslim, creating an even deeper sense of the “other.” Moreover, the fundamentalist had succeeded not only in strengthening the structurally violent elements of society through ghettoization, but they had succeeded in infusing the population with their ideology, their brand of religion.  There were once community events where women of both religions could dance in celebration of shared traditions; now, Muslim women are not allowed to attend because of fundamentalist proclivities, making these types of inter-communal, celebratory events a dying tradition—if not dead. The replacement of tradition with fundamentalism is just one example we heard of an increase in cultural violence; the wearing of the Niqab and the imposition of exorbitant dowries are also increasing intra and inter-communal, cultural violence.

Although we did hear many stories of brave and compassionate neighbors, I couldn’t help but leave Kutch with a deep sense of sadness; I wonder if Kutch could have served as a glimmer of hope for the rest of Gujarat, with a push in the right direction. Yet 12 years later, Kutch seems as if it is becoming more and more like the rest of Gujarat.