One of my school teachers called me today. After years. She had called because she was disturbed by the hateful posts and comments put up on Facebook by the students she had taught. She was very sad at the way things were. She was also worried about what her son was exposed to.

Said, 'I wanted him to have the childhood you guys had'. I was silent. I didn't have the heart to tell her that our childhood was actually a lie. This hate didn't blossom overnight. It had always been there. Hidden in their hearts at a time when it was 'uncool' to be communal.

My biggest disappointments have been my school friends, classmates who turned overtly communal over time, their hate ill concealed by 'but I have Muslim friends' and emphasized by their patronizing 'But we respect Muslims like APJ Kalam'.

I am actually glad they came out of their bigoted closets. I am glad I know the reality of all who surround me. And am glad her son is growing up seeing people for who they are rather getting disappointed as an adult. Heartbroken. Harsh words, but well, I have been broken too.