At the Beth El Synagogue in Kolkata, Shaikh Wasim shows up for work in his pristine uniform, “Beth. El” embroidered on his breast pocket and a white topi, or Muslim skullcap, on his head. Between tasks, he unfurls a blue prayer mat in the same spot where his father, who worked at the synagogue for decades before bequeathing the position to his son, prayed five times a day.
Mr. Wasim worries about reports of an uptick in antisemitic attacks following Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack and Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. But, he says, “the deep love that the Jewish and Muslim people in Kolkata share always pulls me back to the synagogue.”
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The Israel-Hamas war has tested the bonds of Jewish and Muslim communities around the world. In the eastern Indian city of Kolkata, a tradition of respect and solidarity is overpowering panic.
Many of the city’s Jewish institutions – including three synagogues, schools, and a cemetery established in the early 19th century by Jewish merchants from Baghdad and Aleppo – are maintained by Muslim caretakers. Even as the local Jewish population has dwindled, the intertwined communities have offered each other hope, security, and strength amid rising global hostilities.
“We must remember that alongside antisemitism, there has been a sharp increase globally in Islamophobia, too,” says Jo Cohen, secretary for Jewish Community Affairs in Kolkata. “Jewish and Muslim people need to come together to advocate for peace now more than ever.”
Dilawar Mondal gently bends the stems of a centuries-old myrtle plant to examine its aromatic leaves, used in the Jewish ritual bath for the dead. It is among the myriad plants, shrubs, and trees that he has tended to for the last eight years in Kolkata’s only Jewish cemetery, established in the early 19th century by Jewish merchants from Baghdad and Aleppo.
He pauses to check the time – the sun is overhead, which means he’ll soon need to take a break to perform Zuhr, the afternoon Muslim prayer.
Many of the city’s Jewish institutions – including synagogues, schools, and the cemetery – are maintained by Muslim caretakers. The intertwined communities have offered each other hope, security, and strength amid rising global hostilities following Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack and Israel’s military campaign in Gaza.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused on
The Israel-Hamas war has tested the bonds of Jewish and Muslim communities around the world. In the eastern Indian city of Kolkata, a tradition of respect and solidarity is overpowering panic.
“We must remember that alongside antisemitism, there has been a sharp increase globally in Islamophobia, too,” says Jo Cohen, secretary for Jewish Community Affairs in Kolkata. “Jewish and Muslim people need to come together to advocate for peace now more than ever.”
History of solidarity
The camaraderie and respect between the Jewish and Muslim communities of Kolkata can be traced back to the establishment of the cemetery, says Owaiz Aslam, founder of the Kolkata-based Indian Pluralism Foundation, which promotes interfaith harmony among Indian youth.
Historical records show Shalom Aaron Obadiah Cohen, the founder of the Baghdadi Jewish community in Kolkata, reached out to a Bengali Muslim friend regarding the cemetery.
“They were new to the country and needed help,” Mr. Aslam says. “The Muslim friend offered him a plot of his own land free of cost, but … Cohen insisted on giving his friend a gold ring as a token of solidarity between the two communities, which continues even today.”
The cemetery houses around 8,625 graves, including that of Cohen.
More than a century later, the Baghdadi Jews in Kolkata assigned a Muslim family from the neighboring state of Odisha the job of caring for their synagogues, explains Navras Jaat Afreedi, an expert in Jewish history who teaches at Presidency University in Kolkata.
Since then, several generations of that family have continued to serve the three synagogues in Kolkata – Beth El, Maghen David, and Neveh Shalom – even as the Jewish population here has dwindled.
Fewer than 15 Jewish residents remain, most of them older. But women’s rights activist Jael Silliman, who grew up Jewish in Kolkata, says that the synagogues still hold special significance.
“These three beautiful spiritual spaces mark our presence in the city, and recall and embody our history in a place where we flourished and prospered through trade and business endeavors,” says the scholar, noting with pride that Kolkata is home to the only two synagogues protected by the Archaeological Survey of India as important heritage sites.
Today, the synagogues draw tourists from all over the world, and in November, Mr. Aslam initiated an interfaith Jewish-Muslim prayer ceremony at the Beth El Synagogue, where he prayed for the safe return of the hostages taken from Israel by Hamas on Oct. 7.
“As a Muslim, my heart cries for innocent children and adults suffering in Israel as well as Gaza,” he says.
At the same synagogue, Shaikh Wasim shows up for work in his pristine uniform, “Beth. El” embroidered on his breast pocket and a white topi, or Muslim skullcap, on his head.
Shaikh Azizur Rahman
With reports of a global uptick in antisemitic attacks against synagogues and other Jewish institutions, Mr. Wasim and the five other caretakers who currently oversee Kolkata’s synagogues are no strangers to fear.
“I am afraid, like any other human being,” he says. “But the deep love that the Jewish and Muslim people in Kolkata share always pulls me back to the synagogue, no matter the circumstance.”
Anchor amid growing anxieties
Ms. Cohen, the secretary of Jewish Community Affairs, says the Oct. 7 attack profoundly affected the Jewish community in Kolkata, but failed to sour Jewish-Muslim relations.
“The Muslim caretakers of the synagogues and the cemetery, alongside my Muslim friends, are as close to me as ever. The Israel-Gaza situation has not affected our relationships in the slightest,” says Ms. Cohen, who also serves as honorary secretary at the city’s Jewish Girls’ School, where the majority of the students are Muslim.
Later, while cleaning around the synagogue, Mr. Wasim echoes Ms. Cohen’s sentiments.
“I pray for the violence and bloodshed to end, so that Jewish and Muslim communities can coexist in peace like they do in Kolkata,” he says.
He goes on to explain how, during the pandemic, Ms. Cohen and other Jewish residents helped provide urgent financial support to the caretakers’ families in Odisha.
“We are determined to stand by them in these difficult times,” he adds, walking to a raised platform with a roof to the right of the synagogue premises. There, Mr. Wasim unfurls a blue prayer mat in the same spot where his father, who worked at the synagogue for decades before bequeathing the position to his son, prayed five times a day.
Ms. Cohen, who grew up in a family that always employed Muslim cooks and other staff, believes that Judaism has more in common with Islam than any other faith, considering dietary restrictions and prophets, among other things.
“Ultimately, a Jew and a Muslim are praying to the same God, even if they call Him by different names,” she says. “And that is the same God who is listening to all our hopes, fears, and earnest requests.”