When bombs went off in Bombay on the evening of July 13, I took a train down to Dadar's Kabutarkhana (where one of the bombs had been placed). Later, I wrote a short essay for Khabar magazine on some of what I found there.
The essay is in their current (August) issue. Take a look: I saw cell phones.
Comments always welcome.
Showing posts with label Mumbai assaulted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mumbai assaulted. Show all posts
August 05, 2011
July 15, 2011
A banner
This banner came up not far from where I live yesterday, the day after three bomb blasts killed about 20 and injured about 100 people in Bombay.
Genuine question: Have you ever seen a similar banner with "Hinduism" on it instead of "Islam"? Why or why not?
Genuine question: Have you ever seen a similar banner with "Hinduism" on it instead of "Islam"? Why or why not?
July 14, 2011
Trash-flinging continues
On the train to Dadar, a painfully thin man wearing a silver and grey Adidas jacket plays the harmonica. Quite beautifully, too, though I don't know any of the tunes. It's one of those instruments with stops too, like one I have. When he's done our eyes meet and I give him a thumbs up. He comes over and I tell him, you played well. We get talking about music and I mention that I play too.
His eyes light up and he pulls the instrument out of his pocket. "Play something", he says. I launch into "Jaaneman jaaneman", from "Chhoti Si Baat". People are watching, listening.
And I'm feeling sadder and sadder with this song from a much simpler, more naive time. Who would have thought, in those balmy years of the mid-70s, there's random terror in our future?
I get off at Dadar and find my way through the rain to Kabutarkhana, where a bomb went off about 90 minutes earlier. The police have cordoned off the area, so nobody can get closer to the spot than about 50 metres. Several Toyota Innovas with dishes on top are present, thick cables from these vehicles snake underfoot, knots of people form here and there. The knots, I realize, are made up of spectators hoping to catch a glimpse of a TV correspondent as he files his report, and perhaps stick their faces into the broadcast. This may be why the knots, in this time of tragedy, seem filled with cheery, bantering, laughing, joking young men. The incongruity is something fierce.
Beyond the rope that holds us back, a troop of khaki-clad policemen, one carrying a long gun, suddenly turn on their heel and march away, towards the other side of the cordoned-off area. Beside me, a man points to a bus-stop there. "That's where it happened," he says in Marathi. "9 dead, they say, I'm sure it's double that." Then, inexplicably, he asks me what happened here. A few others turn their heads to listen to what I might have to say. By virtue of having been here 15 minutes longer than him, I'm an expert. He's carrying a large umbrella with a portrait of Bal Thackeray on it, and the way he holds it, it keeps the rain off my head too. I answer him politely enough and then excuse myself. I don't want shelter from the rain under a picture of Thackeray.
At the Innova belonging to Network 18, the knot of men is particularly boisterous. "Shiv Sena Zindabad", someone shouts from within it, but gets no answer. He shouts it again, a little softer this time.
Suddenly there's a small commotion from within the knot, and calls to clear a path through it. "Close umbrellas!" someone shouts this time. Inadvertently part of whatever's going on, I feel like I'm part of a reception line for royalty that will emerge from within the knot. But it's only the correspondent and his cameraman who walk past, all the way to the cordon where he positions himself to file a report. Behind them walk two young spectators, cellphones held aloft, capturing the movements of this correspondent on video.
One of the young men lowers his cellphone, turns and walks off, reviewing his film clip as he goes. On the other side of the police barrier, another painfully thin man berates us: "You want to know what happened here? Blast, blast, Mumbai!"
Half an hour later I am in the lobby of a friend's building nearby for a quick visit. Oblivious to the world, two boys are in a corner, playing chess. Still later, on the way back to Kabutarkhana, a woman walks past carrying a bulging plastic bag. She goes to a roadside garbage dump -- just the usual, trash overflowing onto the road and pavement, muck underfoot -- and carefully flings her bag onto the road too.
Blast or not, chess continues. Trash-flinging continues.
His eyes light up and he pulls the instrument out of his pocket. "Play something", he says. I launch into "Jaaneman jaaneman", from "Chhoti Si Baat". People are watching, listening.
And I'm feeling sadder and sadder with this song from a much simpler, more naive time. Who would have thought, in those balmy years of the mid-70s, there's random terror in our future?
I get off at Dadar and find my way through the rain to Kabutarkhana, where a bomb went off about 90 minutes earlier. The police have cordoned off the area, so nobody can get closer to the spot than about 50 metres. Several Toyota Innovas with dishes on top are present, thick cables from these vehicles snake underfoot, knots of people form here and there. The knots, I realize, are made up of spectators hoping to catch a glimpse of a TV correspondent as he files his report, and perhaps stick their faces into the broadcast. This may be why the knots, in this time of tragedy, seem filled with cheery, bantering, laughing, joking young men. The incongruity is something fierce.
Beyond the rope that holds us back, a troop of khaki-clad policemen, one carrying a long gun, suddenly turn on their heel and march away, towards the other side of the cordoned-off area. Beside me, a man points to a bus-stop there. "That's where it happened," he says in Marathi. "9 dead, they say, I'm sure it's double that." Then, inexplicably, he asks me what happened here. A few others turn their heads to listen to what I might have to say. By virtue of having been here 15 minutes longer than him, I'm an expert. He's carrying a large umbrella with a portrait of Bal Thackeray on it, and the way he holds it, it keeps the rain off my head too. I answer him politely enough and then excuse myself. I don't want shelter from the rain under a picture of Thackeray.
At the Innova belonging to Network 18, the knot of men is particularly boisterous. "Shiv Sena Zindabad", someone shouts from within it, but gets no answer. He shouts it again, a little softer this time.
Suddenly there's a small commotion from within the knot, and calls to clear a path through it. "Close umbrellas!" someone shouts this time. Inadvertently part of whatever's going on, I feel like I'm part of a reception line for royalty that will emerge from within the knot. But it's only the correspondent and his cameraman who walk past, all the way to the cordon where he positions himself to file a report. Behind them walk two young spectators, cellphones held aloft, capturing the movements of this correspondent on video.
One of the young men lowers his cellphone, turns and walks off, reviewing his film clip as he goes. On the other side of the police barrier, another painfully thin man berates us: "You want to know what happened here? Blast, blast, Mumbai!"
Half an hour later I am in the lobby of a friend's building nearby for a quick visit. Oblivious to the world, two boys are in a corner, playing chess. Still later, on the way back to Kabutarkhana, a woman walks past carrying a bulging plastic bag. She goes to a roadside garbage dump -- just the usual, trash overflowing onto the road and pavement, muck underfoot -- and carefully flings her bag onto the road too.
Blast or not, chess continues. Trash-flinging continues.
December 27, 2010
Shortchanges India
Sadanand Dhume, author of My Friend the Fanatic had an article in the Wall Street Journal a few days ago that I thought needed a response. After thinking about it a while, I wrote one. It's up on Kafila: The Definition Shortchanges India.
Comments welcome, as always.
Comments welcome, as always.
December 20, 2010
About irresponsibility
By far the most revealing thing about the recent uproar about Rahul Gandhi's statements is the reaction from the BJP and its stable-mates.
To begin with, Uma Bharti and others say it was an "irresponsible" statement for RG to make. Why? Is it irresponsible to have opinions? (In the end, what else was what RG said but an opinion?) Is it irresponsible to have opinions that differ from theirs? Is it irresponsible to merely open your eyes?
I'm hardly interested in comparing atrocities: to me, 26/11 was every bit as egregious and horrific a crime as, let's say, the massacres of 2002. I mean, I mourn the 200 Indians killed in that November of 2008 just as much as I mourn the 3000 killed in November 1984, or the 250 killed in July 2006, or the 2000 killed in February-March 2002, or the 260 killed in March 1993, or the 1000 killed three months before, or the 58 killed in December 1997 …
As ever, I could go on: This is by no means an exhaustive list. Some people look at it and conclude that extremist scum coming across the border, professing Islam, are the greatest threat to India. Fine with me. That's their opinion, after all. But in exactly the same way, why should other people not look at it and conclude that extremist scum lodged very much inside this country, professing Hinduism, are the greatest threat to India?
Why is this second automatically an "irresponsible" opinion?
And if the BJP tells us that RG's statement only "dilutes" our fight against Pakistan-sponsored terrorism, what's the message that party is giving us? It goes something like this: please don't look at the terrorism fomented, great crimes committed, by Indians within India, because we want to divert your attention to the terrorists from outside. We don't want you to pay attention to homegrown terrorists.
What's more irresponsible than to suggest that we actually ignore some, but only some, great crimes?
And then we have Narendra Modi telling us that after hearing RG, he knows where the US got its pro-Pakistan policies from. Consider the issues this raises:
* the presumption that a country will base its foreign policy on unrelated stuff a greenhorn politician in another country says. ("Hey Dick," I have to imagine George Bush saying in the Oval Office, "that guy Rahul says Hindu extremists are a greater threat to India than the LeT. How about we tilt towards Pakistan?")
* the presumption that a US tilt towards Pakistan, something we have accused the US of maintaining for the better part of 63 years, has its roots in what that greenhorn politician said in 2007, three years ago.
I think Rahul Gandhi has a point. Not that I'm interested in what is or isn't the "greatest" threat to India -- that's a matter of opinion and your mileage may vary.
No, I think he has a point for this reason: too many of us are unwilling to face the reality that's in our midst. That's worth thinking about.
To begin with, Uma Bharti and others say it was an "irresponsible" statement for RG to make. Why? Is it irresponsible to have opinions? (In the end, what else was what RG said but an opinion?) Is it irresponsible to have opinions that differ from theirs? Is it irresponsible to merely open your eyes?
I'm hardly interested in comparing atrocities: to me, 26/11 was every bit as egregious and horrific a crime as, let's say, the massacres of 2002. I mean, I mourn the 200 Indians killed in that November of 2008 just as much as I mourn the 3000 killed in November 1984, or the 250 killed in July 2006, or the 2000 killed in February-March 2002, or the 260 killed in March 1993, or the 1000 killed three months before, or the 58 killed in December 1997 …
As ever, I could go on: This is by no means an exhaustive list. Some people look at it and conclude that extremist scum coming across the border, professing Islam, are the greatest threat to India. Fine with me. That's their opinion, after all. But in exactly the same way, why should other people not look at it and conclude that extremist scum lodged very much inside this country, professing Hinduism, are the greatest threat to India?
Why is this second automatically an "irresponsible" opinion?
And if the BJP tells us that RG's statement only "dilutes" our fight against Pakistan-sponsored terrorism, what's the message that party is giving us? It goes something like this: please don't look at the terrorism fomented, great crimes committed, by Indians within India, because we want to divert your attention to the terrorists from outside. We don't want you to pay attention to homegrown terrorists.
What's more irresponsible than to suggest that we actually ignore some, but only some, great crimes?
And then we have Narendra Modi telling us that after hearing RG, he knows where the US got its pro-Pakistan policies from. Consider the issues this raises:
* the presumption that a country will base its foreign policy on unrelated stuff a greenhorn politician in another country says. ("Hey Dick," I have to imagine George Bush saying in the Oval Office, "that guy Rahul says Hindu extremists are a greater threat to India than the LeT. How about we tilt towards Pakistan?")
* the presumption that a US tilt towards Pakistan, something we have accused the US of maintaining for the better part of 63 years, has its roots in what that greenhorn politician said in 2007, three years ago.
I think Rahul Gandhi has a point. Not that I'm interested in what is or isn't the "greatest" threat to India -- that's a matter of opinion and your mileage may vary.
No, I think he has a point for this reason: too many of us are unwilling to face the reality that's in our midst. That's worth thinking about.
December 06, 2010
18 years
Today is 18 years since a mob tore down the Babri Masjid. That set off weeks of rioting in Bombay (and elsewhere), killing about a thousand Indians, and eventually the March 12 1993 bomb blasts, killing another 250 Indians.
Through those weeks, I roamed various areas of my city, speaking to people about what had happened. From my notes of the time, some memories are gathered in a guest post I did for Kafila: City in terror.
There are more memories. I'll post them below.
***
More:
* Met a milk seller on Reay Road. A mob robbed his house and took his clothes and vessels. Later a gang of thugs came and beat him, told him to leave the area.
* An 18 year-old and his younger brother ran a raddi business. A mob broke into the shop and beat the brother. They stole Rs 300 and also the shop board, which read "GAMRA METAL & PAPER MART."
* 36 families in huts on one stretch of Reay Road had been given copies of 1) a police statement about the riots by Police Sub Inspector Atmaram Mane; and 2) a panchnama (witness statement) by a Vasant Raghunath Rokde (these years later, the last name is not clear in my notes, could be Rotide). Nobody in the families knew why.
* A woman in Kalachowkie was away from her hut washing clothes. When she returned, a mob had burned it down. For days afterward, gangs came to assault her family and neighbours.
* Met a man from Uttar Pradesh who had lived in Kalachowkie for 11 yrs. He had two kids. He ran a raddi-paper shop. 300-400 people came and burned it down, looted all his vessels.
* In Nagpada, a 20 year-old woman in her TYBCom at the Akbar Peerbhoy College lost her brother in police firing. Two days later, as she stood on the street, a police bullet hit her in the head. She was not badly hurt, but her vision was affected.
* In Bhendi Bazar, a 29 yr-old woman and her daughter left their home at 3pm one afternoon to get rid of their garbage. Both were hit in the back by bullets.
* One injured victim I met at JJ Hospital could remember only this about his four attackers: two wore long pants, two wore shorts. He also said a hotel owner came to the hospital and distributed Rs 100 each to patients like him, injured in the violence.
* A man I met was buying cigarettes at a paanwala in Byculla at 930am one morning. Forty or fifty men surrounded him suddenly and attacked him with knives. A friend rescued him.
* Another man I met in JJ Hospital was there because he had been surrounded by a dozen men and attacked with swords. He had wounds on his head, arm, chest and back. He had no idea how he had survived.
* From a building terrace, a man pointed to a "bunker" and "firing range" in the neighbouring slum. What he meant was 3 sandbags lying on a broken roof far below us.
* When a mob set Dalal Estate in Bombay Central on fire, an elderly couple, avid stamp collectors, was trapped in their flat. They died.
* Near Reay Road one day, a handcart puller ran to escape from a violent mob. When he returned, his handcart was burned and he had no way left to earn a living.
* In the ash-covered remains of a burned-down set of homes somewhere -- I think near Bombay Central -- I found several half-burned scraps of explicit pornographic photographs.
* Reay Road: a couple with four girls and a boy was saving money in a box for dowry for when they married off the girls. A mob burned their hut and stole the dowry money, Rs 5000.
* A timber merchant had been running his business near Currey Road station since 1951. He lost his entire stock when it was set on fire during the violence. He went to the police station to file a complaint, only to find that a complaint had been registered against him for burning a rival's stock, and for selling liquor.
* The man who delivered milk to my uncle every morning also drove a riksha. There was no milk delivered for several days. Later my uncle found out that the man had been pulled from his riksha and killed.
* At the office one evening, I was waiting for a late meeting. An old family friend called. He urged me to leave and go home right away. "The Muslims are going to attack from the sea!" he said.
* I took the train back from town late another evening. Found no rikshas at the station when I alighted, apparently no buses, nearly nobody around at all. So I began walking home in fear. A man driving a Maruti Omni stopped and offered me a ride home.
* A young journalist I knew called in tears one morning. The family had woken to find a prominent "X" painted outside their front door. They have since emigrated.
***
Just a few more:
* The residents of slum that I trudged through one morning during the violence told me that they saw the residents of a nearby building throwing bags filled with petrol at them. By the fistful, shoveling them over the side, dozens raining down, followed by bombs to set off fires.
* I asked a man I met in a building: who dropped the bombs on the community toilet in the slum directly below us? How did its roof break? He said the slum residents broke the roof themselves.
* Then I asked him about the pockets in the slum, again more or less below us, where the huts were burned to the ground. How had that happened? He said the slum residents did that too. They do it frequently, he said.
***
Given the memories I have from that time 18 years ago, I measure claims that December 6 1992 was a "day of honour" by the yardstick of these vignettes above. The claims don't score so well. Nor do the claimants. I mean, I don't think the guy who was thrown off a bridge onto the railway tracks found much honour or redemption in the events of December 6 1992. Nor the fellow who had boarded up his windows in fear for his life. Nor the journalist who found the mark painted outside her door one morning; in fact, probably not the painters either.
How tall does a country stand when it stands on the rubble of a mosque?
December 6 1992: I don't really care if others, or the younger generation, don't remember. Or if they want to move on.
Because I remember.
Through those weeks, I roamed various areas of my city, speaking to people about what had happened. From my notes of the time, some memories are gathered in a guest post I did for Kafila: City in terror.
There are more memories. I'll post them below.
More:
* Met a milk seller on Reay Road. A mob robbed his house and took his clothes and vessels. Later a gang of thugs came and beat him, told him to leave the area.
* An 18 year-old and his younger brother ran a raddi business. A mob broke into the shop and beat the brother. They stole Rs 300 and also the shop board, which read "GAMRA METAL & PAPER MART."
* 36 families in huts on one stretch of Reay Road had been given copies of 1) a police statement about the riots by Police Sub Inspector Atmaram Mane; and 2) a panchnama (witness statement) by a Vasant Raghunath Rokde (these years later, the last name is not clear in my notes, could be Rotide). Nobody in the families knew why.
* A woman in Kalachowkie was away from her hut washing clothes. When she returned, a mob had burned it down. For days afterward, gangs came to assault her family and neighbours.
* Met a man from Uttar Pradesh who had lived in Kalachowkie for 11 yrs. He had two kids. He ran a raddi-paper shop. 300-400 people came and burned it down, looted all his vessels.
* In Nagpada, a 20 year-old woman in her TYBCom at the Akbar Peerbhoy College lost her brother in police firing. Two days later, as she stood on the street, a police bullet hit her in the head. She was not badly hurt, but her vision was affected.
* In Bhendi Bazar, a 29 yr-old woman and her daughter left their home at 3pm one afternoon to get rid of their garbage. Both were hit in the back by bullets.
* One injured victim I met at JJ Hospital could remember only this about his four attackers: two wore long pants, two wore shorts. He also said a hotel owner came to the hospital and distributed Rs 100 each to patients like him, injured in the violence.
* A man I met was buying cigarettes at a paanwala in Byculla at 930am one morning. Forty or fifty men surrounded him suddenly and attacked him with knives. A friend rescued him.
* Another man I met in JJ Hospital was there because he had been surrounded by a dozen men and attacked with swords. He had wounds on his head, arm, chest and back. He had no idea how he had survived.
* From a building terrace, a man pointed to a "bunker" and "firing range" in the neighbouring slum. What he meant was 3 sandbags lying on a broken roof far below us.
* When a mob set Dalal Estate in Bombay Central on fire, an elderly couple, avid stamp collectors, was trapped in their flat. They died.
* Near Reay Road one day, a handcart puller ran to escape from a violent mob. When he returned, his handcart was burned and he had no way left to earn a living.
* In the ash-covered remains of a burned-down set of homes somewhere -- I think near Bombay Central -- I found several half-burned scraps of explicit pornographic photographs.
* Reay Road: a couple with four girls and a boy was saving money in a box for dowry for when they married off the girls. A mob burned their hut and stole the dowry money, Rs 5000.
* A timber merchant had been running his business near Currey Road station since 1951. He lost his entire stock when it was set on fire during the violence. He went to the police station to file a complaint, only to find that a complaint had been registered against him for burning a rival's stock, and for selling liquor.
* The man who delivered milk to my uncle every morning also drove a riksha. There was no milk delivered for several days. Later my uncle found out that the man had been pulled from his riksha and killed.
* At the office one evening, I was waiting for a late meeting. An old family friend called. He urged me to leave and go home right away. "The Muslims are going to attack from the sea!" he said.
* I took the train back from town late another evening. Found no rikshas at the station when I alighted, apparently no buses, nearly nobody around at all. So I began walking home in fear. A man driving a Maruti Omni stopped and offered me a ride home.
* A young journalist I knew called in tears one morning. The family had woken to find a prominent "X" painted outside their front door. They have since emigrated.
Just a few more:
* The residents of slum that I trudged through one morning during the violence told me that they saw the residents of a nearby building throwing bags filled with petrol at them. By the fistful, shoveling them over the side, dozens raining down, followed by bombs to set off fires.
* I asked a man I met in a building: who dropped the bombs on the community toilet in the slum directly below us? How did its roof break? He said the slum residents broke the roof themselves.
* Then I asked him about the pockets in the slum, again more or less below us, where the huts were burned to the ground. How had that happened? He said the slum residents did that too. They do it frequently, he said.
Given the memories I have from that time 18 years ago, I measure claims that December 6 1992 was a "day of honour" by the yardstick of these vignettes above. The claims don't score so well. Nor do the claimants. I mean, I don't think the guy who was thrown off a bridge onto the railway tracks found much honour or redemption in the events of December 6 1992. Nor the fellow who had boarded up his windows in fear for his life. Nor the journalist who found the mark painted outside her door one morning; in fact, probably not the painters either.
How tall does a country stand when it stands on the rubble of a mosque?
December 6 1992: I don't really care if others, or the younger generation, don't remember. Or if they want to move on.
Because I remember.
November 26, 2010
Another time
Thoughts on an anniversary, my guest post on Kafila is here: Memories of another time.
Comments welcome.
Comments welcome.
July 17, 2010
Perceptions, hurt and anger
Another round of India-Pakistan talks, another road that apparently has led nowhere. Me, I'm a believer in the mantra that the road itself is the point. If the alternative is hostility and killing, better to talk, even if the talks only lead to more talks that, it seems to us on the outside, lead to yet more talks that, I'm getting somewhere I think, apparently lead nowhere.
I'm not being facetious. Any talking must take into account the concerns of both sides, or it leads nowhere. I can't tell if that happened or didn't, at this most recent meeting of foreign ministers on both sides. (Probably it didn't, or it might have led somewhere).
Part of the reason for not being able to tell is how the event gets reported.
Today's Times of India has a front page report whose headline reads: "Qureshi Kills Peace Talks".
The Economic Times says: "Failure of talks exposes Pak’s evil designs".
The Hindustan Times accuses Pakistan of "ambush diplomacy": "Pakistan's 'all or nothing' timeline trap broke talks".
Then I looked at some other papers.
The Daily Times says "India remained stuck in modalities".
Dawn says "Deadlock blamed on selective Indian approach".
Kashmir Watch says "India has been using delaying tactics".
As always, what happened is a function of who tells you what happened. Also as always, what you choose to believe about what happened is likely a function of which country you live in. Few of us seem able to consider: by their nature, these failures cannot be the fault only of one or the other side. Possibly lost in all that is a non-partisan account of what happened, that will give us a better understanding of it all.
Overall, an object lesson in how perceptions differ.
Also in the use of words like "kill", "evil", "delaying" and "selective".
***
A less one-sided account is in the Wall Street Journal: "Tempers Flare in India-Pakistan Talks".
***
As an aside, the same Times of India report I mention above refers to "India's hurt and anger at the fact that 26/11 masterminds are ... roaming free in Pakistan ... There can't be any closure on 26/11 until there is justice."
I fully agree.
But all over again, I cannot help wondering: is there "hurt and anger" in India that the masterminds of Delhi 1984, Gujarat 2002, Bombay 1992-93 and more are roaming free in India? (I know plenty of people who are hurt and angry over that). Can there be closure on any of those episodes without justice?
Why won't we deliver justice in those massacres of Indians, if we want it for the 26/11 massacre of Indians? And if we won't or can't deliver justice for those, why do we expect it of Pakistan for 26/11?
I'm not being facetious. Any talking must take into account the concerns of both sides, or it leads nowhere. I can't tell if that happened or didn't, at this most recent meeting of foreign ministers on both sides. (Probably it didn't, or it might have led somewhere).
Part of the reason for not being able to tell is how the event gets reported.
Today's Times of India has a front page report whose headline reads: "Qureshi Kills Peace Talks".
The Economic Times says: "Failure of talks exposes Pak’s evil designs".
The Hindustan Times accuses Pakistan of "ambush diplomacy": "Pakistan's 'all or nothing' timeline trap broke talks".
Then I looked at some other papers.
The Daily Times says "India remained stuck in modalities".
Dawn says "Deadlock blamed on selective Indian approach".
Kashmir Watch says "India has been using delaying tactics".
As always, what happened is a function of who tells you what happened. Also as always, what you choose to believe about what happened is likely a function of which country you live in. Few of us seem able to consider: by their nature, these failures cannot be the fault only of one or the other side. Possibly lost in all that is a non-partisan account of what happened, that will give us a better understanding of it all.
Overall, an object lesson in how perceptions differ.
Also in the use of words like "kill", "evil", "delaying" and "selective".
A less one-sided account is in the Wall Street Journal: "Tempers Flare in India-Pakistan Talks".
As an aside, the same Times of India report I mention above refers to "India's hurt and anger at the fact that 26/11 masterminds are ... roaming free in Pakistan ... There can't be any closure on 26/11 until there is justice."
I fully agree.
But all over again, I cannot help wondering: is there "hurt and anger" in India that the masterminds of Delhi 1984, Gujarat 2002, Bombay 1992-93 and more are roaming free in India? (I know plenty of people who are hurt and angry over that). Can there be closure on any of those episodes without justice?
Why won't we deliver justice in those massacres of Indians, if we want it for the 26/11 massacre of Indians? And if we won't or can't deliver justice for those, why do we expect it of Pakistan for 26/11?
May 14, 2010
100s of 1000s
"Imagine this: There are hundreds of thousands of Delhiwallahs and Gujaratis among us, who took part in the killing, raping, burning, maiming and looting of thousands of Indians who did them no wrong."
That's Aakar Patel, writing here. Those and everything else in the essay, words I wish I could have written, but I'm glad he did.
That's Aakar Patel, writing here. Those and everything else in the essay, words I wish I could have written, but I'm glad he did.
March 25, 2010
17 years, going nowhere
Some of what's below has appeared in this space before. Because of what happened last February 20, I thought it worth repeating.
***
Remember Sanjay Dutt, the film star? If you do, you may also remember that in late 2006, he was found guilty under the Arms Act, the charge being possession of a deadly weapon. This was at the end of the trial of the accused in the bomb blasts of March 12 1993. Dutt was first arrested in April 1993, after investigations into the blasts had thrown up his name.
Consider three excerpts from news reports of the time about the investigations and Dutt's arrest:
* "Top stars, MLAs got arms from Dawood" (Afternoon Despatch & Courier, April 12 1993): "The Bombay Police have stumbled upon the names of several film personalities, MLAs and corporators, who owned illegal arms allegedly supplied by the underworld don, Dawood Ibrahim. The arms were either gifted by Dawood or sold to these persons at cheap rates. Interrogation of suspects in connection with the bomb blasts has thrown up names of film personalities such as Sanjay Dutt ... The suspects have also named Shiv Sena MLA Madhukar Sarpotdar among nine politicians who acquired arms from the D-gang or his henchmen. The arms were mainly sophisticated revolvers, valued at Rs 1.5 lakh each, according to police sources."
* "Sanjay Dutt arrested" (Indian Express, April 20 1993): [Chief Minister Sharad Pawar told the Maharashtra Legislative Council that] "the suspect who named Sanjay had during the interrogation revealed several other names including that of [Shiv Sena MLA] Madhukar Sarpotdar. But we have not pressed charges against all."
* "Sanjay Dutt held under TADA" (Times of India, April 20 1993): "Sanjay came under a cloud when his name cropped up during the interrogation of two film distributors. Samir Hingora and Hanif Lakdawalla … had reportedly indicated that one of the three AK-56 assault rifles they had procured had been sold to Sanjay. ... [They] earlier had mentioned various names, including that of Mr Madhukar Sarpotdar, Mr Pawar said [in the Legislative Council], but Mr Sarpotdar's house was also not searched."
So let's get this straight: Madhukar Sarpotdar was named in the same investigation that revealed Sanjay Dutt's name, by the same people who named Dutt, for the same act of buying arms from them. And this was announced in the state Assembly by none other than the then-Chief Minister of the state.
Despite this, Madhukar Sarpotdar was never charged for violating the Arms Act, as Sanjay Dutt was charged, tried and convicted in 2006.
Consider next what Sarpotdar was doing on the night of Monday January 11 1993, two months before the blasts. In their essay "A City at War With Itself" from the book When Bombay Burned, Clarence Fernandez and Naresh Fernandes wrote these lines:
* "[T]he Army detained the Shiv Sena MLA Madhukar Sarpotdar in the troubled suburb of Nirmal Nagar late on Monday night and searched his car to find two revolvers and several other weapons ... Travelling with Sarpotdar was his son Atul, carrying an unlicensed Spanish revolver. Though Sarpotdar had a license for his gun, he too was breaking the law by carrying it during the riots. Also in the car was one Anil Parab. [T]he police commissioner [refused] to indicate whether this man was the notorious gangster of the same name, the hitman of the Dawood gang."
So not only did Hingora and Lakdawalla say they had sold guns to Sarpotdar, but during the riots, Sarpotdar was actually detained by the Army while he was carrying guns about in a riot-hit area. Now because of the rioting, the entire city had been declared a "notified area" at the time. The mere possession of an unlicensed weapon in a notified area was an offence under Section 5 of the Terrorist and Disruptive Activities (Prevention) Act, or TADA, then in force.
Despite this too, Sarpotdar was never charged for this either, whether under TADA or under the Arms Act.
But there's more. There are wheels and more wheels within, never doubt it. In November 2006, the Mumbai Sessions Court awarded life imprisonment to a man who, in 1984, had shot a witness dead in a court in Andheri. Two other bullets he fired left two policemen in the court injured, and he was also accused of other crimes, including the murder of his own wife.
Here's an excerpt from a report about his 2006 sentence:
* "Justice delayed, but delivered!" (Afternoon Despatch and & Courier, November 7 2006): "[I]n 1985 [he] got out on bail to gain in stature as a dreaded gangster whose name figured in many deadly crimes. He escaped to Dubai sometime in the late 80s and was heard of having become the mainstay of the Dawood gang. He was also seen on television with Dawood and Sharad Shetty. However, in late 1990, he fell apart with Dawood. ... [He was found] guilty of charges under Section 307 IPC read with Section 3, 25 (1-B) (a) of Indian Arms Act, sentencing him to life imprisonment."
Who was this man? Anil Parab. Yes, the same name the man the Army found with Sarpotdar in Nirmal Nagar on January 11 1993.
Both in 1996 and 1998, Sarpotdar ran for election to the Lok Sabha from the Mumbai Northwest constituency. Detained by the Army with arms he might have been, but a MP he became, winning both times. During his term, he testified before the Srikrishna Commission that was inquiring into the riots. One day in 1996, I was in the High Court listening to his testimony, growing steadily more sickened by his responses to the judge. At the lunch break, I couldn't help myself. I walked up and tapped Sarpotdar on the shoulder. "I am ashamed," I told him, "to have you as my MP."
Sarpotdar's face twisted in fury, as did those of several of his aides, who surrounded and harangued me. When he could speak again, Sarpotdar fired these words at me: "Just come outside, I'll see about you!"
My MP.
Now I don't mean to suggest that Sarpotdar did not face the long arm of the law. He did. He was charged, under Section 153A of the IPC, with inciting violence during the riots. On July 9 2008, a city court found him guilty as charged and sentenced him to a year in prison.
But within days, he had secured bail. He never served that one-year sentence. In Hinduja hospital on February 20, 2010, Madhukar Sarpotdar died.
The wheels of Indian justice. Seventeen years, going nowhere.
Remember Sanjay Dutt, the film star? If you do, you may also remember that in late 2006, he was found guilty under the Arms Act, the charge being possession of a deadly weapon. This was at the end of the trial of the accused in the bomb blasts of March 12 1993. Dutt was first arrested in April 1993, after investigations into the blasts had thrown up his name.
Consider three excerpts from news reports of the time about the investigations and Dutt's arrest:
* "Top stars, MLAs got arms from Dawood" (Afternoon Despatch & Courier, April 12 1993): "The Bombay Police have stumbled upon the names of several film personalities, MLAs and corporators, who owned illegal arms allegedly supplied by the underworld don, Dawood Ibrahim. The arms were either gifted by Dawood or sold to these persons at cheap rates. Interrogation of suspects in connection with the bomb blasts has thrown up names of film personalities such as Sanjay Dutt ... The suspects have also named Shiv Sena MLA Madhukar Sarpotdar among nine politicians who acquired arms from the D-gang or his henchmen. The arms were mainly sophisticated revolvers, valued at Rs 1.5 lakh each, according to police sources."
* "Sanjay Dutt arrested" (Indian Express, April 20 1993): [Chief Minister Sharad Pawar told the Maharashtra Legislative Council that] "the suspect who named Sanjay had during the interrogation revealed several other names including that of [Shiv Sena MLA] Madhukar Sarpotdar. But we have not pressed charges against all."
* "Sanjay Dutt held under TADA" (Times of India, April 20 1993): "Sanjay came under a cloud when his name cropped up during the interrogation of two film distributors. Samir Hingora and Hanif Lakdawalla … had reportedly indicated that one of the three AK-56 assault rifles they had procured had been sold to Sanjay. ... [They] earlier had mentioned various names, including that of Mr Madhukar Sarpotdar, Mr Pawar said [in the Legislative Council], but Mr Sarpotdar's house was also not searched."
So let's get this straight: Madhukar Sarpotdar was named in the same investigation that revealed Sanjay Dutt's name, by the same people who named Dutt, for the same act of buying arms from them. And this was announced in the state Assembly by none other than the then-Chief Minister of the state.
Despite this, Madhukar Sarpotdar was never charged for violating the Arms Act, as Sanjay Dutt was charged, tried and convicted in 2006.
Consider next what Sarpotdar was doing on the night of Monday January 11 1993, two months before the blasts. In their essay "A City at War With Itself" from the book When Bombay Burned, Clarence Fernandez and Naresh Fernandes wrote these lines:
* "[T]he Army detained the Shiv Sena MLA Madhukar Sarpotdar in the troubled suburb of Nirmal Nagar late on Monday night and searched his car to find two revolvers and several other weapons ... Travelling with Sarpotdar was his son Atul, carrying an unlicensed Spanish revolver. Though Sarpotdar had a license for his gun, he too was breaking the law by carrying it during the riots. Also in the car was one Anil Parab. [T]he police commissioner [refused] to indicate whether this man was the notorious gangster of the same name, the hitman of the Dawood gang."
So not only did Hingora and Lakdawalla say they had sold guns to Sarpotdar, but during the riots, Sarpotdar was actually detained by the Army while he was carrying guns about in a riot-hit area. Now because of the rioting, the entire city had been declared a "notified area" at the time. The mere possession of an unlicensed weapon in a notified area was an offence under Section 5 of the Terrorist and Disruptive Activities (Prevention) Act, or TADA, then in force.
Despite this too, Sarpotdar was never charged for this either, whether under TADA or under the Arms Act.
But there's more. There are wheels and more wheels within, never doubt it. In November 2006, the Mumbai Sessions Court awarded life imprisonment to a man who, in 1984, had shot a witness dead in a court in Andheri. Two other bullets he fired left two policemen in the court injured, and he was also accused of other crimes, including the murder of his own wife.
Here's an excerpt from a report about his 2006 sentence:
* "Justice delayed, but delivered!" (Afternoon Despatch and & Courier, November 7 2006): "[I]n 1985 [he] got out on bail to gain in stature as a dreaded gangster whose name figured in many deadly crimes. He escaped to Dubai sometime in the late 80s and was heard of having become the mainstay of the Dawood gang. He was also seen on television with Dawood and Sharad Shetty. However, in late 1990, he fell apart with Dawood. ... [He was found] guilty of charges under Section 307 IPC read with Section 3, 25 (1-B) (a) of Indian Arms Act, sentencing him to life imprisonment."
Who was this man? Anil Parab. Yes, the same name the man the Army found with Sarpotdar in Nirmal Nagar on January 11 1993.
Both in 1996 and 1998, Sarpotdar ran for election to the Lok Sabha from the Mumbai Northwest constituency. Detained by the Army with arms he might have been, but a MP he became, winning both times. During his term, he testified before the Srikrishna Commission that was inquiring into the riots. One day in 1996, I was in the High Court listening to his testimony, growing steadily more sickened by his responses to the judge. At the lunch break, I couldn't help myself. I walked up and tapped Sarpotdar on the shoulder. "I am ashamed," I told him, "to have you as my MP."
Sarpotdar's face twisted in fury, as did those of several of his aides, who surrounded and harangued me. When he could speak again, Sarpotdar fired these words at me: "Just come outside, I'll see about you!"
My MP.
Now I don't mean to suggest that Sarpotdar did not face the long arm of the law. He did. He was charged, under Section 153A of the IPC, with inciting violence during the riots. On July 9 2008, a city court found him guilty as charged and sentenced him to a year in prison.
But within days, he had secured bail. He never served that one-year sentence. In Hinduja hospital on February 20, 2010, Madhukar Sarpotdar died.
The wheels of Indian justice. Seventeen years, going nowhere.
February 18, 2010
Of motivation and inversion
"Every intelligence officer will tell you that the motivation of the Indian jihadi is not Guantanamo or Iraq, it is, STILL, Gujarat."
That's Samar Halarnkar of the Hindustan Times, on his Twitter page.
This reminded me of these lines with which I began an article I called Just as Orwell predicted a few years ago:
"According to the [Srikrishna Commission] report, the [1993 Bombay bomb] blasts were the fallout of the riots that happened after demolition of the Babri Masjid. Why have only we been found guilty? What about the culprits who have been named in the Srikrishna Commission report?"
That was said by Abdul Ghani Turk, found guilty on September 19 2006 in the (March 12 1993) bomb blasts trial.
As I asked in 2006, let's punish Turk as he deserves, but who's willing to take a stab at answering his questions? Who's willing to take a stab at reacting to Halarnkar's observation? Anyone? You?
***
Incidentally, while that article I referred to above (Just as Orwell predicted) starts with Turk's questions, it is really not about them. It is instead about a perception among many people that the riots in Bombay actually followed the blasts for which Turk was convicted. That the riots were actually set off by the blasts.
Which perception is impossible, of course, given that the riots happened in December 1992 and January 1993, whereas the blasts happened months later, on March 12 1993.
But impossible, of course, is just a word. Consider some lines I read at the top of this page on the site mumbaivotes.com.
Terrorists has been made the situation of the country quiet vulnerable Since 1992-93 B.C. Bomb blasts took place on 13 places and around 900 people were lost their lives. Thousands of people were injured. As a result of which, big religious riots took place between Hindus and Muslims and so many innocents were killed.
This was, as you will read at the top of that page, "condensed and translated from the original version [of a manifesto] at shivsena.org."
Yes, some parties strive to invert history. In an election manifesto, no less.
That's Samar Halarnkar of the Hindustan Times, on his Twitter page.
This reminded me of these lines with which I began an article I called Just as Orwell predicted a few years ago:
"According to the [Srikrishna Commission] report, the [1993 Bombay bomb] blasts were the fallout of the riots that happened after demolition of the Babri Masjid. Why have only we been found guilty? What about the culprits who have been named in the Srikrishna Commission report?"
That was said by Abdul Ghani Turk, found guilty on September 19 2006 in the (March 12 1993) bomb blasts trial.
As I asked in 2006, let's punish Turk as he deserves, but who's willing to take a stab at answering his questions? Who's willing to take a stab at reacting to Halarnkar's observation? Anyone? You?
Incidentally, while that article I referred to above (Just as Orwell predicted) starts with Turk's questions, it is really not about them. It is instead about a perception among many people that the riots in Bombay actually followed the blasts for which Turk was convicted. That the riots were actually set off by the blasts.
Which perception is impossible, of course, given that the riots happened in December 1992 and January 1993, whereas the blasts happened months later, on March 12 1993.
But impossible, of course, is just a word. Consider some lines I read at the top of this page on the site mumbaivotes.com.
Terrorists has been made the situation of the country quiet vulnerable Since 1992-93 B.C. Bomb blasts took place on 13 places and around 900 people were lost their lives. Thousands of people were injured. As a result of which, big religious riots took place between Hindus and Muslims and so many innocents were killed.
This was, as you will read at the top of that page, "condensed and translated from the original version [of a manifesto] at shivsena.org."
Yes, some parties strive to invert history. In an election manifesto, no less.
February 12, 2010
My name is
Here's a great way for patriotic Indians to fight Pakistani terrorists: tear down posters of an upcoming film, vandalize the theatres that plan to show it, threaten violence against it to the extent that police personnel have to deployed in front of all such theatres.
I'm sure that's deterred plenty of terrorists already. I can see it now. The next time a boatload of armed men turn up on this city's shores, intent on mayhem and slaughter, they will be met by people shouting: "Get lost! Before we tear down the posters of My Name is Khan!"
That'll show the terrorists.
More seriously.
Is there someone who can tell me of one positive thing the Shiv Sena has done for the Marathi manoos? I mean, at their inception nearly half a century ago their beef was with the non-Marathi "outsiders" who, they said, were taking away jobs that belonged rightfully to Maharashtrians. Today their beef is with the non-Marathi "outsiders" who are, they say, taking away jobs that belong rightfully to Maharashtrians. If after nearly half a century this party's rhetoric and argument remain absolutely unchanged, the question must be asked: what has it achieved in 50 years?
The answer must be given: nothing.
And that is why they must pretend that patriotism and defending India equates to vandalising film theatres. Terrorists out there must be quaking in their boots.
***
May plenty of Bollywood folks and others show the spirit and decency of Hrithik Roshan.
I'm sure that's deterred plenty of terrorists already. I can see it now. The next time a boatload of armed men turn up on this city's shores, intent on mayhem and slaughter, they will be met by people shouting: "Get lost! Before we tear down the posters of My Name is Khan!"
That'll show the terrorists.
More seriously.
Is there someone who can tell me of one positive thing the Shiv Sena has done for the Marathi manoos? I mean, at their inception nearly half a century ago their beef was with the non-Marathi "outsiders" who, they said, were taking away jobs that belonged rightfully to Maharashtrians. Today their beef is with the non-Marathi "outsiders" who are, they say, taking away jobs that belong rightfully to Maharashtrians. If after nearly half a century this party's rhetoric and argument remain absolutely unchanged, the question must be asked: what has it achieved in 50 years?
The answer must be given: nothing.
And that is why they must pretend that patriotism and defending India equates to vandalising film theatres. Terrorists out there must be quaking in their boots.
May plenty of Bollywood folks and others show the spirit and decency of Hrithik Roshan.
February 03, 2010
The depths of character
Friend A sent me a link to a recent article, Why Pakistan Can Never be a Great Neighbour, by Vivek Gumaste.
I wrote back to A with my reactions, and then thought perhaps it could do with a slightly wider audience. What's below is pretty much what I wrote. And thanks, A, for the pointer.
I've had exchanges with Vivek Gumaste going back several years. He's a thoughtful guy, I'll say that for him, though I almost entirely disagree with his thought process.
In this case. First of all, I couldn't really care less what the IPL does or doesn't do with Pakistani players. It's a business and the owners of the business have every right to choose or not choose who they want to employ, end of story. I don't see it as an insult to Pakistan that its cricketers were not chosen.
But here's where Gumaste's argument falls apart.
For one, just as I can't see it as an insult to Pakistan that IPL won't have its players, I can't see it as India "revealing a depth to its character, an ability to stand up for itself, a new found confidence" (which is what Gumaste writes). It's just some hard-nosed business folks taking a decision, that's all. Why should I presume that says something about India, good or bad? At the Wagah border in October, I saw plenty of Indian trucks going over to sell Indian vegetables in Pakistani markets -- again, a business decision by hard-nosed vegetable sellers who belong to those parts. So does that business decision say something about the depth of India's character or new found confidence?
For another, consider these lines from Gumaste's article: "Is it not barbaric that we choose to continue playing cricket with a people whose compatriots routinely massacre our innocent civilians? I find it uncouth when we walk over the dead bodies of the carnage of 26/11."
Let's refer to domestic cricket, and let's change "26/11" to "1984" (picking just one example, and let's not forget that in 1984 we slaughtered 15 times more Indians than died in 26/11). We then get: "Is it not barbaric that we choose to continue playing domestic cricket with a people whose compatriots routinely massacre our innocent civilians? I find it uncouth when we walk over the dead bodies of the carnage of 1984."
If Gumaste's question is valid and it is barbaric to play, then surely the second (changed) question is also valid and that is barbaric as well. But what would Gumaste say to that second question? Applying his own logic, should Indians stop playing cricket (or hockey or anything else) with other Indians?
I wrote back to A with my reactions, and then thought perhaps it could do with a slightly wider audience. What's below is pretty much what I wrote. And thanks, A, for the pointer.
I've had exchanges with Vivek Gumaste going back several years. He's a thoughtful guy, I'll say that for him, though I almost entirely disagree with his thought process.
In this case. First of all, I couldn't really care less what the IPL does or doesn't do with Pakistani players. It's a business and the owners of the business have every right to choose or not choose who they want to employ, end of story. I don't see it as an insult to Pakistan that its cricketers were not chosen.
But here's where Gumaste's argument falls apart.
For one, just as I can't see it as an insult to Pakistan that IPL won't have its players, I can't see it as India "revealing a depth to its character, an ability to stand up for itself, a new found confidence" (which is what Gumaste writes). It's just some hard-nosed business folks taking a decision, that's all. Why should I presume that says something about India, good or bad? At the Wagah border in October, I saw plenty of Indian trucks going over to sell Indian vegetables in Pakistani markets -- again, a business decision by hard-nosed vegetable sellers who belong to those parts. So does that business decision say something about the depth of India's character or new found confidence?
For another, consider these lines from Gumaste's article: "Is it not barbaric that we choose to continue playing cricket with a people whose compatriots routinely massacre our innocent civilians? I find it uncouth when we walk over the dead bodies of the carnage of 26/11."
Let's refer to domestic cricket, and let's change "26/11" to "1984" (picking just one example, and let's not forget that in 1984 we slaughtered 15 times more Indians than died in 26/11). We then get: "Is it not barbaric that we choose to continue playing domestic cricket with a people whose compatriots routinely massacre our innocent civilians? I find it uncouth when we walk over the dead bodies of the carnage of 1984."
If Gumaste's question is valid and it is barbaric to play, then surely the second (changed) question is also valid and that is barbaric as well. But what would Gumaste say to that second question? Applying his own logic, should Indians stop playing cricket (or hockey or anything else) with other Indians?
November 26, 2009
A fair trial
This article was in the Hindustan Times today (November 26). In the face of plenty of impatience with Kasab's trial, it's good to read a thoughtful, reasoned essay on why he deserves and must get a fair trial.
(I'm proud to call Amit Desai, the author of that article, one of my oldest friends, my classmate going back to when we were 9).
(I'm proud to call Amit Desai, the author of that article, one of my oldest friends, my classmate going back to when we were 9).
Daphne and Juergen
November 13, 2009
Last two names
Elle magazine asked me for an essay to mark a year since the attack on Bombay. What I wrote is a story I've wanted to tell all these months.
It's called "Last Two Names", and it's in the November issue of the magazine. And below. Your thoughts welcome.
***
One year since the November attacks. What's changed, my friends from out of town have asked through the year. The cynic that I am, my most truthful answer has to be "Nothing".
Sure, there was a lot of anger at the time, directed at politicians and the "system". Sure, there was a groundswell of calls to "stand together as Indians" to fight terrorism. Sure, all this led various "people's candidates" to stand for the Lok Sabha elections last May. But has the energy lasted a year, has it made a difference? Do we have better governance, security, justice than we did a year ago? Do we have less focus on the empty issues that only divide us -- think "sons of the soil", for just one of those -- and more on what binds us?
No.
Of all things though, there is a widespread impatience with the ongoing trial of Kasab, the lone murderer caught alive. Only days before I wrote this, an otherwise thoughtful acquaintance sent me this exasperated note: "We bend over backwards to appear to be just, even though the proof of [Kasab's] guilt is there in technicolor."
Here's evidence of our attempt to live up to an ideal of law and justice -- that we are actually putting this man of all men through a trial -- rather than the murder and anarchy that's the preferred terrorist style, the anarchy Kasab's pals and trainers dearly want us to descend into. Yet enough Indians seem impatient with even that. Forget the trial and hang Kasab in public, they demand. Shoot him down like he shot people down, they demand.
Why would we want to imitate terrorists? And if we did, would that not be their greatest triumph?
Yes, I'm cynical about and dismayed by where we find ourselves a year after the attacks. That's why I find a strange comfort instead in one story out of the many in that tragic four-day maelstrom, a story that gives me an out-of-the-ordinary perspective on both the massacre and our condition, one year later. For instead of cynicism and anger, it is about spirit and enthusiasm. It is about the old and affectionate ties to India that brought a middle-aged couple to my city last year. My city.
And being about those things, for me it is a good reminder of the enormity of last year's tragedy.
As a young girl growing up in Delhi in the late 1950s, Daphne Thomas was a member of the Delhi Polo Club. This afforded her assorted unusual delights, like riding along the Yamuna River and Sunday hunts and what she called "wonderful Tent Picking Shows". But what she remembered best was learning polo from a young officer in the Presidential bodyguard. As she wrote to him in October 2008, 50 years older, this was "a most courageous thing [for him] to do."
I don't know why she thought that. Perhaps she had been a particularly obstreperous student of polo? In any case, she continued in that letter, she wrote it "in the hope of being able to bring a smile and a few memories back of what seems to me another life." She addressed it to Brigadier Sawai Bhawani Singh, Maharajah of Jaipur. As if in a fairy tale, the charming young officer of a little girl's memory had grown up to be a real-life Maharajah.
But why did she write to His Majesty, fully half a century on? Because she and her husband, Juergen, were going to travel through India in late 2008, together revisiting her youthful memories for the first time.
Daphne's India connection goes back to well before her polo lessons, all the way to British times. Her father, Geoffrey Benion Thomas, was a distinguished doctor who spent years in this country. Trained in gynaecological surgery, he was a professor of Medicine in Madras before Independence. Daphne was born there. After 1947, he was Senior Medical Officer at the British High Commission in New Delhi, and among his patients in those years were ladies of the royal family of Jaipur.
Perhaps the good doctor was attending to them even while a son from that family was teaching polo to his young daughter.
As for Juergen, he was looking forward to this Indian journey too, and for his own reasons. After an illustrious career with the German Air Force and NATO, Juergen had turned to photography in his retirement, and India would be a visual feast. As a relative later wrote to me, he was "thrilled to be touring India as a photographer."
And this pilgrimage to the land of Daphne's birth, this journey here with her husband of many years, was also a celebration for her. For she was in remission from an attack of ovarian cancer a couple of years earlier.
Through most of 2008, Daphne and Juergen planned their trip. A travel agent in Trichy drew up a tough but rewarding schedule for them: Delhi, Rajasthan for two weeks taking in the Pushkar camel fair, Kerala, Goa and then Bombay.
Here in her beloved India finally, the occasional breathless email message to family in the US spoke of a hectic, happy journey. "We will need a rehab when we get back," she wrote about halfway into it. Right on schedule, Daphne and Juergen flew Kingfisher Airlines to Bombay on their last day. Their flight home to Germany was not till much later that night, so they had several hours to spend in my city. The travel agent had arranged a car and driver for them. So they took in the sights of South Bombay: Marine Drive, the Gateway, Flora Fountain, Victoria Terminus. Juergen bought himself some Punjabi music. They stopped for a final Indian dinner, thinking they would go to the airport directly after their meal.
My city, my city.
Nearly 24 hours after they stopped for dinner, my phone rang. It was an old school chum, calling from Boston. Friends of his there, he told me, were trying to get news of relatives, a couple who had come to Bombay. The driver they had hired for the evening had dropped them off for dinner, but in the mayhem that then overwhelmed that part of the city, he hadn't heard from them again. Any way I could use journalist contacts to find out what had happened?
I promised to try. Then, just as he was about to hang up, I remembered something. Wait, I said, stay on the line, let me check this blog I know about that's been posting various details about the attacks, mumbaihelp.blogspot.com. Pulled it up on my laptop, and there in Boston, he did the same. The second item, a list of names. Pulled that up on my laptop, and there in Boston, he did the same. The last two names on the list: "Shri Jurgem Hetraz Rudalf" and "Smt Studdar Daphne".
Mangled in the transcription, but there could be little doubt. Juergen and Daphne Schmidt, on the last night of a trip 25 years in the making. Daphne and Juergen, rounding off a memorable Indian safari with dinner at a Bombay institution, a Lonely Planet tourist favourite: Cafe Leopold.
Juergen and Daphne. On a crisp Wednesday evening in November a year ago, among the first of nearly two hundred slaughtered by heavily armed terrorists.
My city, my city.
It's called "Last Two Names", and it's in the November issue of the magazine. And below. Your thoughts welcome.
One year since the November attacks. What's changed, my friends from out of town have asked through the year. The cynic that I am, my most truthful answer has to be "Nothing".
Sure, there was a lot of anger at the time, directed at politicians and the "system". Sure, there was a groundswell of calls to "stand together as Indians" to fight terrorism. Sure, all this led various "people's candidates" to stand for the Lok Sabha elections last May. But has the energy lasted a year, has it made a difference? Do we have better governance, security, justice than we did a year ago? Do we have less focus on the empty issues that only divide us -- think "sons of the soil", for just one of those -- and more on what binds us?
No.
Of all things though, there is a widespread impatience with the ongoing trial of Kasab, the lone murderer caught alive. Only days before I wrote this, an otherwise thoughtful acquaintance sent me this exasperated note: "We bend over backwards to appear to be just, even though the proof of [Kasab's] guilt is there in technicolor."
Here's evidence of our attempt to live up to an ideal of law and justice -- that we are actually putting this man of all men through a trial -- rather than the murder and anarchy that's the preferred terrorist style, the anarchy Kasab's pals and trainers dearly want us to descend into. Yet enough Indians seem impatient with even that. Forget the trial and hang Kasab in public, they demand. Shoot him down like he shot people down, they demand.
Why would we want to imitate terrorists? And if we did, would that not be their greatest triumph?
Yes, I'm cynical about and dismayed by where we find ourselves a year after the attacks. That's why I find a strange comfort instead in one story out of the many in that tragic four-day maelstrom, a story that gives me an out-of-the-ordinary perspective on both the massacre and our condition, one year later. For instead of cynicism and anger, it is about spirit and enthusiasm. It is about the old and affectionate ties to India that brought a middle-aged couple to my city last year. My city.
And being about those things, for me it is a good reminder of the enormity of last year's tragedy.
As a young girl growing up in Delhi in the late 1950s, Daphne Thomas was a member of the Delhi Polo Club. This afforded her assorted unusual delights, like riding along the Yamuna River and Sunday hunts and what she called "wonderful Tent Picking Shows". But what she remembered best was learning polo from a young officer in the Presidential bodyguard. As she wrote to him in October 2008, 50 years older, this was "a most courageous thing [for him] to do."
I don't know why she thought that. Perhaps she had been a particularly obstreperous student of polo? In any case, she continued in that letter, she wrote it "in the hope of being able to bring a smile and a few memories back of what seems to me another life." She addressed it to Brigadier Sawai Bhawani Singh, Maharajah of Jaipur. As if in a fairy tale, the charming young officer of a little girl's memory had grown up to be a real-life Maharajah.
But why did she write to His Majesty, fully half a century on? Because she and her husband, Juergen, were going to travel through India in late 2008, together revisiting her youthful memories for the first time.
Daphne's India connection goes back to well before her polo lessons, all the way to British times. Her father, Geoffrey Benion Thomas, was a distinguished doctor who spent years in this country. Trained in gynaecological surgery, he was a professor of Medicine in Madras before Independence. Daphne was born there. After 1947, he was Senior Medical Officer at the British High Commission in New Delhi, and among his patients in those years were ladies of the royal family of Jaipur.
Perhaps the good doctor was attending to them even while a son from that family was teaching polo to his young daughter.
As for Juergen, he was looking forward to this Indian journey too, and for his own reasons. After an illustrious career with the German Air Force and NATO, Juergen had turned to photography in his retirement, and India would be a visual feast. As a relative later wrote to me, he was "thrilled to be touring India as a photographer."
And this pilgrimage to the land of Daphne's birth, this journey here with her husband of many years, was also a celebration for her. For she was in remission from an attack of ovarian cancer a couple of years earlier.
Through most of 2008, Daphne and Juergen planned their trip. A travel agent in Trichy drew up a tough but rewarding schedule for them: Delhi, Rajasthan for two weeks taking in the Pushkar camel fair, Kerala, Goa and then Bombay.
Here in her beloved India finally, the occasional breathless email message to family in the US spoke of a hectic, happy journey. "We will need a rehab when we get back," she wrote about halfway into it. Right on schedule, Daphne and Juergen flew Kingfisher Airlines to Bombay on their last day. Their flight home to Germany was not till much later that night, so they had several hours to spend in my city. The travel agent had arranged a car and driver for them. So they took in the sights of South Bombay: Marine Drive, the Gateway, Flora Fountain, Victoria Terminus. Juergen bought himself some Punjabi music. They stopped for a final Indian dinner, thinking they would go to the airport directly after their meal.
My city, my city.
Nearly 24 hours after they stopped for dinner, my phone rang. It was an old school chum, calling from Boston. Friends of his there, he told me, were trying to get news of relatives, a couple who had come to Bombay. The driver they had hired for the evening had dropped them off for dinner, but in the mayhem that then overwhelmed that part of the city, he hadn't heard from them again. Any way I could use journalist contacts to find out what had happened?
I promised to try. Then, just as he was about to hang up, I remembered something. Wait, I said, stay on the line, let me check this blog I know about that's been posting various details about the attacks, mumbaihelp.blogspot.com. Pulled it up on my laptop, and there in Boston, he did the same. The second item, a list of names. Pulled that up on my laptop, and there in Boston, he did the same. The last two names on the list: "Shri Jurgem Hetraz Rudalf" and "Smt Studdar Daphne".
Mangled in the transcription, but there could be little doubt. Juergen and Daphne Schmidt, on the last night of a trip 25 years in the making. Daphne and Juergen, rounding off a memorable Indian safari with dinner at a Bombay institution, a Lonely Planet tourist favourite: Cafe Leopold.
Juergen and Daphne. On a crisp Wednesday evening in November a year ago, among the first of nearly two hundred slaughtered by heavily armed terrorists.
My city, my city.
November 10, 2009
Signs of unity
Coming up to one year now, since a gang of murderous maniacs came off a boat and slaughtered 200 people in Bombay. I remember those 60 hours vividly. I also remember vividly so many calls for us Indians to unite, because finding that unity would be the best response to, the best way to fight, terrorism.
Coming up to one year since those calls, we can look around us to find:
* Some folks refuse to sing a song. Some other folks insist that they, and everybody, must indeed sing it.
* A man pronounces that people who call it "Bombay" must be, and I quote, "thrown out of this city".
* Several newly-elected members of Maharashtra's Vidhan Sabha assault a fellow newly-elected member for taking his oath of office in Hindi.
So you see: coming up to one year since that terror attack, we are united indeed. And we also have in place, didn't you know, the best way to defeat terrorism bar none.
The next time a terrorist comes off a boat and says something while on his way to causing mayhem, I'm sure those members of the Vidhan Sabha will be right there, ready to do what needs to be done above all.
They'll demand that he speak in Marathi.
That'll show the murderous maniacs.
Coming up to one year since those calls, we can look around us to find:
* Some folks refuse to sing a song. Some other folks insist that they, and everybody, must indeed sing it.
* A man pronounces that people who call it "Bombay" must be, and I quote, "thrown out of this city".
* Several newly-elected members of Maharashtra's Vidhan Sabha assault a fellow newly-elected member for taking his oath of office in Hindi.
So you see: coming up to one year since that terror attack, we are united indeed. And we also have in place, didn't you know, the best way to defeat terrorism bar none.
The next time a terrorist comes off a boat and says something while on his way to causing mayhem, I'm sure those members of the Vidhan Sabha will be right there, ready to do what needs to be done above all.
They'll demand that he speak in Marathi.
That'll show the murderous maniacs.
July 04, 2009
June 22, 2009
Bodies
"The bodies of eight of the nine slain alleged 26/11 terrorists have started to decompose, necessitating their early disposal. ... [T]he bodies ha[ve] begun showing symptoms of fast decomposition, as they were not made to be kept for long preservation."
(From "8 terrorists' bodies need quick disposal", Hindustan Times, June 20 2009.)
Question: whose bodies are "made to be kept for long preservation" anyway?
But more seriously. From the same report: "The bodies, sources said, would be consigned to the elements at some government land, as Muslim bodies had refused to allow the burials in their cemeteries."
(The two uses of the word "bodies" in that sentence, you understand, refer to different things).
You will remember that some months ago, this particular refusal stimulated a fair amount of commentary in various quarters. For just one random example, on ScienceBlogs, Ed Brayton confessed that it "kind of warms my little black heart a bit." One of his commenters speaks of his "hope that at least some Muslims are willing to emphatically reject the extremists."
So let me understand this: It takes a refusal to bury mass-murderers for this man to find such hope? If he had not heard of this refusal he would have continued in his belief that most Muslims, what, embrace the extremists?
To me, the way to consider this is what another commenter there writes: "a criminal is a criminal regardless of religion or politics. If someone viciously murders 100 people, it doesn't matter if they are Christian or Mulsim, Republican or Democrat, white or black. The proper definition for such a person is 'criminal' and it applies across the board."
Look at it like that, and this much is clear: Muslim organizations and cemeteries have no greater connection to the dead bodies of these criminals than the rest of us do.
If the government chose to ask Muslim organizations if they wanted to deal with the bodies, it should have asked every other section of society the same question. Since it did not do that latter, it had no business asking the question of Muslim organizations either.
In other words, the authorities should, with minimum fuss, have incinerated the bodies as soon as possible after the November attacks.
Among other things, that would have sidestepped today's headache: bodies not made to be preserved now decomposing in the morgue.
(From "8 terrorists' bodies need quick disposal", Hindustan Times, June 20 2009.)
Question: whose bodies are "made to be kept for long preservation" anyway?
But more seriously. From the same report: "The bodies, sources said, would be consigned to the elements at some government land, as Muslim bodies had refused to allow the burials in their cemeteries."
(The two uses of the word "bodies" in that sentence, you understand, refer to different things).
You will remember that some months ago, this particular refusal stimulated a fair amount of commentary in various quarters. For just one random example, on ScienceBlogs, Ed Brayton confessed that it "kind of warms my little black heart a bit." One of his commenters speaks of his "hope that at least some Muslims are willing to emphatically reject the extremists."
So let me understand this: It takes a refusal to bury mass-murderers for this man to find such hope? If he had not heard of this refusal he would have continued in his belief that most Muslims, what, embrace the extremists?
To me, the way to consider this is what another commenter there writes: "a criminal is a criminal regardless of religion or politics. If someone viciously murders 100 people, it doesn't matter if they are Christian or Mulsim, Republican or Democrat, white or black. The proper definition for such a person is 'criminal' and it applies across the board."
Look at it like that, and this much is clear: Muslim organizations and cemeteries have no greater connection to the dead bodies of these criminals than the rest of us do.
If the government chose to ask Muslim organizations if they wanted to deal with the bodies, it should have asked every other section of society the same question. Since it did not do that latter, it had no business asking the question of Muslim organizations either.
In other words, the authorities should, with minimum fuss, have incinerated the bodies as soon as possible after the November attacks.
Among other things, that would have sidestepped today's headache: bodies not made to be preserved now decomposing in the morgue.
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