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Herald, 30 October 2009

When it comes to love and sex, communal politics acquires a particularly vicious and misogynistic edge, says VIDYADHAR GADGIL

Love conquers all – or so Bollywood would have us believe. Bollywood is adept at resolving complex social issues through simplistic solutions, deploying the alleged power of love to break social barriers. Class contradictions are resolved in one stroke in film after film when the poor boy marries the rich girl, or vice-versa. Not satisfied with solving the problem of class conflict through these means, Bollywood scriptwriters have been busy tackling issues like regionalism and, occasionally, caste, with the tried and trusted deus ex machina of love. The romantic couple may not always live happily ever after, but love itself does triumph, with its chastened opponents realising the folly of their ways as they sombrely contemplate the corpses of the lovers in the closing scene.
But even Bollywood is chary of storming certain bastions with the battering ram of love, and there are hardly any films which portray cross-religion love. Probably the only mainstream film of recent times which did this was Mani Ratnam’s ‘Bombay’, though even here one wonders whether the film-maker would have dared to do a gender switch, with a Muslim hero and a Hindu heroine. Of course, Bollywood does recognise that there is a problem here, but the means to bridge the religious divide are scenes with Amar, Akbar and Anthony lying side by side donating blood, with images of a temple, mosque and church floating in the background. Rather tamely, if wisely, Amar, Akbar and Anthony all romance and marry heroines from their own religions, leaving this final Laxman Rekha intact.
By recognising this boundary for love, Bollywood is only reflecting the prejudices of the society that consumes its products. A cursory glance at the newspapers will show case after case where there is strong opposition, often escalating into violence, to marriage across religious barriers. Honour killings of women who have violated this norm are reported all too frequently. During the Gujarat communal violence of 2002, cross-community couples were especial targets. Recently, from Kashmir there were reports about protests over cross-community marriages. With all Kashmir’s problems between its religious communities, Sikh community leader Jagmohan Singh Raina zeroes in on this issue as the one that has “adversely affected the long-cherished brotherhood between the Valley’s communities,” a sentiment echoed by his counterparts on the other side of the religious divide.
What are the factors behind this kind of antediluvian prejudice? One common explanation is the feudal nature of Indian society, which puts notions of family and community purity above all else, and punishes transgressors viciously. But this is at best a partial explanation. What about Rizwanur Rehman and Priyanka Todi, a couple that lived in the midst of a capitalist society in Kolkata, in a state run by a party that flaunts its secular credentials? If Rizwanur Rehman had been a poor Hindu computer engineer, his super-rich prospective father-in-law may not have been particularly thrilled, but it is unlikely that Rizwanur would have ended up dead.
The prejudice on this issue is essentially rooted in the fact that women are treated in Indian society as chattels – of their parents and families first, then of their husbands, and ultimately of the community. When a woman marries outside her religious community, she is viewed as property that has been expropriated by a competing group, and the inevitable backlash follows. When a man marries outside his community, this may not meet with approval, but there is tacit support because he is at one level seen as a conquering hero, who has dared to grab property belonging to rivals. It is the woman who is killed by members of her own community; the man may have to face the wrath of the woman’s community, but his own will protect him.
Communal battles have long been fought over the bodies of women, as we see in episode after episode of communal violence. The communal violence of Partition, when thousands of women on both sides of the border were abducted and subjected to sexual violence, was a stark reminder of the status of women as property, chillingly documented in the short stories of Saadat Hasan Manto.
The latest case of this kind of thinking is probably the most ludicrous, but also particularly worrisome, because it combines deep-rooted intolerance with politically organised communalism, resulting in a potent mix in which even the weirdest claims acquire a reality of their own. In February 2009, a Malayalam daily, Kerala Kaumudi, carried a report claiming the existence of a jihadi organisation which uses young Muslim men to get Hindu girls to fall in love with them and convince them to convert to Islam. The report did not excite much interest, except among fundamentalist organisations like the VHP and Bajrang Dal, which launched a shrill campaign against the ‘love jihad’ (alternatively described as ‘Romeo Jihad’). The campaign was particularly vociferous in Kerala and Karnataka.
One could be forgiven for dismissing the whole brouhaha as an interesting example of the sociopathology of the sexual insecurities of Indian males, and its linkages with the sexual politics of religious fundamentalism – a theme that has been explored in Anand Patwardhan’s film ‘In the Name of God’. But in September 2009, the situation acquired a surreal aspect, when the Indian judicial system got involved. On 30 November, the Kerala High Court directed the Kerala Police and Union Home Ministry to probe the alleged ‘love jihad’. This was in response to the claims by the families of a Hindu and a Christian woman, who married their Muslim classmates in a Pathanamthitta college and converted to Islam. On 22 October the Kerala DGP submitted a report to the court which stated that there was no evidence for any organisation called ‘love jihad’ functioning in Kerala so far. But the High Court termed the report as “contradictory” and has now asked for submissions from each of the state’s 14 district police superintendents on the matter!
In this theatre of the absurd, the latest players are the judges of the Karnataka High Court. On 21 October, during hearing of a habeas corpus petition by C Selvaraj – who claimed that his daughter Siljaraj had eloped with a Muslim youth to Kerala – the judges ordered that the CID conduct a probe into ‘love jihad’. Siljaraj, who was produced before the court by police, told the judges that she had married Aksar of Kannur in Kerala of her own free will, and was undergoing religious training after getting converted to Islam.
But the free will of an adult woman appears to be of less importance, the Constitution of India notwithstanding, than bogeys about holy wars being waged using the weapon of love. The judges directed her to stay with her parents till the police complete the investigations. Magnanimously, the court also said that since she was an adult, if it was found to be a ‘bonafide’ love marriage, she could go back to Aksar. One wonders if the police will now be devising and conducting tests for the genuineness of love.
The whole ‘love jihad’ episode shows once again how the first victims of communalism are women. It also demonstrates the extent to which communal mindsets have infiltrated the system, with alleged fundamentalist conspiracies, however bizarre, being given more value than the Constitutional rights of an adult woman. This is clearly a divide which even an accomplished matchmaker like Bollywood is going to find tough to bridge.

Herald, 16 Oct 2009

Prejudice and discrimination against the Muslim community has alarmingly become part of ‘common sense’, says VIDYADHAR GADGIL

THE BIGGER PICTURE

At a national meet in Delhi, in early October, on the theme ‘What it Means to be a Muslim in India Today’, participants from across the country shared their experiences. There were individuals who had faced the worst kind of police brutalities, like the journalist Iftikhar Gilani, who told the audience about being locked up and tortured for over 8 months on a charge totally without substance. He was subsequently released only after a concerted campaign by the media and after the Directorate General of Military Intelligence testified that the ‘secret’ document Gilani was accused of possessing was in fact freely available on the internet.
The family of Ishrat Jahan, killed by the police in Gujarat as an alleged Lashkar-e-Toiba terrorist – it has been subsequently revealed by a magisterial enquiry report that the charge was fabricated and Ishrat and three others were murdered in cold blood by the police – narrated their harrowing experiences. Muslims from other states, ruled by both Congress and BJP governments, spoke about how they had been arrested, tortured, and locked up for years, often without any chargesheet being filed. As the preliminary report of the meet revealed, “The pervasive sense of insecurity … derives from the prejudice, illegality and impunity with which police forces across the country deal with the challenges of terror. This is a regular pattern that occurs after every terror attack, and sometimes even when there have been no actual terror episodes but the state authorities claim that there was a conspiracy which they detected and prevented. Testimonies from many states in the country outline this chilling pattern of Muslims, mostly male youth, usually with no criminal records, being illegally picked up by men in plain clothes, and taken blind-folded in unmarked vehicles to illegal locations like farm houses which are not police stations.”
Horrifying as these tales were, equally disturbing were the tales of continuous, ongoing prejudice that Muslims in India have to face at every turn. There was an almost universal sentiment of fear and despair, with many speakers saying that Muslims have in effect been reduced to second-class citizens. It is not only the police and judiciary that are communalised and biased against Muslims – the problem has seeped into all institutions of governance, political parties and the media. Worse, the negative perception about Muslims has crept into the public psyche, and it has become ‘common sense’ to see Muslims as violent, fanatical and anti-national.
Recently, a schoolteacher friend of mine narrated something that happened in her class. A 10-year-old girl came to her crying and complained that a boy, Momin, had pulled her hair. The teacher consoled her, and then the girl said, “These Pakistanis are all like that.” Horrified, the teacher asked her where she had got the idea that Momin, whom she had known well for the past 5 years, was a Pakistani. The girl admitted that he was not, and also agreed that Momin was a good friend of hers, not given to violent behaviour.
This little tale serves to show how deeply prejudice has become entrenched in our minds. Where does a 10-year-old pick up such information, quite contrary to her own experiences? How does she label a boy whom she has known throughout her schooldays as a ‘Pakistani’? Where does the image of Muslims as ‘violent’ come from? The simple answer is that these perceptions are all around us, part of the very air we breathe, and communal forces are systematically engaged in adding fuel to this fire. It is now commonplace – and common sense – to say “All Muslims are not terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims,” despite all the evidence to the contrary, including the recent cases of involvement of Hindutva elements in terrorist conspiracies.
As the Sachar Committee Report revealed, the all-pervading prejudice against Muslims has pushed an already deprived community further behind in the struggle for socio-economic advancement. The Report states that Indian Muslims “carry the double burden of being labelled as ‘anti-national’ and as being ‘appeased’ at the same time. While Muslims need to prove on a daily basis that they are not ‘anti-national’ and ‘terrorists’ it is not recognised that the alleged ‘appeasement’ has not resulted in the desired level of socio-economic development”. It is difficult for Muslims to get houses on rent, and many housing societies refuse to let existing owners sell their houses to Muslims. Admissions to schools and institutions of higher education are a problem. A study by Sukhadeo Thorat and Paul Attewell also revealed a clear pattern of discrimination against Muslims (and lower-caste applicants) when it came to hiring people for jobs in the private sector.
After the defeat of the BJP in the general elections earlier this year, many people made the mistake of thinking that communal forces had been defeated. Granted, they did receive a setback in the elections, but it is often forgotten that the BJP is only the tip of the Hindutva iceberg. While the BJP operates publicly in the electoral sphere, there is a whole plethora of organisations of the Sangh Parivar that is quietly engaged in spreading communal propaganda. The Ekal Vidyalayas, the Vanvasi Kalyan Parishads, Saraswati Shishu Mandirs and a variety of Samitis and Sansthas continue to operate in the cultural sphere, spreading their message of hate and prejudice and influencing young minds. With the success of this strategy, it has become relatively irrelevant which political formation comes to power, because of the overall saffronisation of society and government, to a greater or lesser extent. That is why, despite their being a so-called secular government in power in some states, there is no real improvement in the situation. We have seen how the Maharashtra government has steadfastly avoided taking any action whatsoever on the Shrikrishna Commission Report. In Goa, the coalition government led by the Congress rushes to obey the lightest whim of groups like the Sanatan Sanstha and the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti. Despite Mayawati’s BSP having come to power in Uttar Pradesh, there is very little improvement in the situation.
The problem goes beyond the victimhood of a particular community, and poses a grave challenge to our Constitutional order, which guarantees equality to all citizens, irrespective of caste, creed, community or gender. If the Constitutional order is perceived to have failed, citizens are compelled to seek other solutions, something that does not bode well for the future.
One already sees such a pattern beginning to emerge within the Muslim community. Pushed to the wall through discrimination and forced into ghettoisation, Muslims are becoming increasingly disillusioned with the system and with secular political formations. This leads them to flock to Muslim organisations and parties organised around the politics of identity. In a process that feeds on itself, this gives further fodder to the propaganda of Hindutva communal forces, and so on and so forth in a seemingly endless cycle. It is vital that this cycle be broken, and the only way to do that is to ensure that all citizens of this country get equal treatment.

Migration Redux

Herald, 2 Oct 2009
VIDYADHAR GADGIL deplores the xenophobic turn that the debate on migrants has taken in Goa during the past few years
THE BIGGER PICTURE
With the BJP-Shiv Sena alliance having proposed a permit system to control migration into major cities in Maharashtra, the issue of migration, always one of the most contentious issues in public discourse, has once again occupied centre stage. On one side is the hoary ‘sons of the soil’ argument and on the other is the equally venerable one about the Constitution protecting the right of citizens to move freely within the borders of the country. If the issue is hot in Maharashtra, it has been even more controversial in Goa for many years now, and occupies large sections of the opinions columns and the letters to the editor sections of Goan newspapers. Amidst the emotionalism surrounding the issue, is it possible to devise a rational approach?
In a statement a few months ago, Dhirendra Singh, the former Union Home Secretary and member of the Commission on State-Centre Relations, New Delhi, claimed that while “there has been migration from the places like Bihar or other eastern non-developed states towards Delhi, Mumbai, Punjab and Goa,” this was not unmanageable, and that migration, “which occurs due to lack of development in certain parts of the country, can be tackled constitutionally and administratively.”
While unexceptionable in itself, the statement added fuel to the ongoing debate about the “migrant influx” into Goa . Various figures are bandied about regarding the level of in-migration into Goa, with estimates of the “outsider” population varying between 20 and 50 per cent of the total, depending on who is making the estimate. Similarly, there are wildly varying estimates about the size of the Goan diaspora. Probably the most reliable figure we have on this is from the National Family Health Survey, which puts the proportion of migrants from other states in Goa at a fifth of the population in 2001. Assuming an increase of about 5 per cent, this would bring the proportion of migrants to one-fourth of the total population, a large figure by any standards.
Migration is as old as the history of human beings on this planet. It is now widely accepted that humanity originated in Africa and spread from there across the world. Genetic research has now made it possible to trace the patterns of migration fairly accurately, and for more recent migrations, history is a guide. In a recent series of articles in Herald, Valmiki Faleiro has documented the successive waves of migration into Goa, and shown how various groups intermingled to create the Goan population that we have today.
Coming to more recent history, the problem in Goa during the first half of the twentieth century was one of out-migration rather than in-migration. With the lack of development and economic opportunities under the Salazar regime, Goans were forced to look elsewhere for means of livelihood. Emigrants from the Hindu community moved to British India, while Catholics sought better opportunities both there as well as around the world, particularly in Portuguese and British colonies in Africa.
Post-Liberation, the out-migration has continued, with the West becoming an increasingly attractive destination in the eyes of the middle classes, both Hindu and Catholic. On the reverse side, there has been a steady influx of people from other parts of India into Goa for economic opportunities – the same lure that has driven Goans to out-migrate. Middle-class individuals arrived in pursuit of jobs, both in the government and the private sector, or business opportunities. There was also a steady supply of seasonal labour from the neighbouring states of Maharashtra and Karnataka.
It is in the past ten years or so that in-migration has increased substantially. The labour from Maharashtra and Karnataka (the so-called ghantis) has continued to come in, but the supply has largely been seasonal, with the workers returning to their homes in the off-season. With the real estate boom and industrialisation, the requirements for labour have increased, and this has been made up by a steady supply from the North and East Indian states, mainly Bihar and Orissa. While only a small proportion of these labourers settle in Goa on a permanent basis, given Goa’s small size, it makes an appreciable difference, particularly in urban areas.
Also, Goa has now become a desirable destination for the upper classes from the metropolises. Many have brought second homes which are used as vacation getaways. Having a house in Goa is a status symbol of sorts, with every two-bit celebrity in Bollywood flaunting her ‘dream home’ in Goa or broadcasting his desire to acquire one.
Combined with ill-conceived development policies, this has placed tremendous pressure on Goa’s resources, particularly land. There has been a growing clamour demanding special status for Goa, mainly in order to protect its land. The two issues that most commonly crop up in public discourse nowadays are ‘Goan identity’, and, in the same breath, ‘migrant influx’.
Unfortunately, few participants in the debate approach the issue from a rational, humanitarian perspective. Migrant bashing is the flavour of the day, and has become perfectly acceptable in mainstream Goan society. The newspapers are full of anti-migrant tirades, with migrants being held primarily responsible for most of the woes of Goa today. Ironically, those cheering on the anti-migrant brigades most lustily are often non-resident Goans working and/or settled abroad, who are not even, in many cases, Indian citizens.
Working-class migrants are easy targets, and are blamed for being dirty and having poor hygiene standards – a factor which is often outside their control, with employers not providing the required facilities to workers. They are blamed for spitting, urinating and defecating in public, and, in some undefined way (probably by their mere existence), degrading Goan culture. In the search for scapegoats to blame for the myriad problems that Goa faces today, the migrants are the most convenient target. The situation has become so bad that, a year ago, the Archbishop of Goa felt constrained to issue a statement pointing out the obvious: that migrants are as much human beings as anybody else.
Much has been written about the migrant issue, and the purpose here is not to reiterate the various debates but to stress the fact that a debate conducted in such a shrill, xenophobic manner does nothing to tackle the root causes that have created multiple pressures on the Goan environment, resources, and, of course, the repeatedly invoked ‘Goan identity’. A discourse at such a level only gives further fuel to right-wing identity politics. It could be argued that one of the factors contributing to the rise of the BJP and Hindutva in Goan politics is related to the fertile soil created for such tendencies by this mindset. It is hardly a matter of great surprise that a politician like Matanhy Saldanha, who has allowed his genuine concern for protecting Goa and its identity to take on a xenophobic hue, often expressed in anti-migrant tirades, finds the BJP to be the political force that he would most rather ally with. The migrant discourse and Hindutva ideology have also had a satisfactory marriage in the way migrants are equated with Muslims whenever Muslims raise demands like the right to a kabrastan or the right to build masjids and prayer houses.
It is time to break the shackles of this narrow view of the issue. Instead of externalising the problems Goa faces on to convenient scapegoats, it is time to fashion solutions – solutions that ensure justice to all while bringing in a pro-people form of development that takes into account local needs rather than the interests of big business.

Come Dine at My Home

Herald 2day, 30 Sep 2009

By Vidyadhar Gadgil

When one thinks of eating out in Goa with family or friends, one rarely thinks beyond the cities and the tourist belt. But that is gradually changing, with new restaurants in the quieter villages in the interior, off the tourist beat. One of the prime examples of this trend is ‘Andron’, in the serene village of Nachinola, tucked between the villages of Aldona and Moira. Set up by Antonio Nazareth (popularly known as Tony), a marine engineer, Andron gives you the increasingly rare experience of a quiet retreat, away from the cacophony of the tourist belt, where you can relax and enjoy a meal in an ambience that reminds you of home.

What prompted a marine engineer to set up a restaurant? Tony reminisces, “After twenty years at sea, away from the family for long stretches, I was fed up. The children were growing up and I was missing their best years. I planned this for a long time, and then finally took the plunge in 2004, quitting my job as a marine engineer, and setting up ‘Andron’ in my home village of Nachinola.”

Wasn’t it tough setting up a restaurant without any experience in the line? “It was not easy,” confesses Tony, with his typical understatement. “But my mind was made up. I had this dream to set up a restaurant where people could get authentic Goan food in a homely village ambience, catering mainly to families rather than the tourist trade. After coming back to Nachinola, I did short-term courses in bartending and waiting at the Institute of Hotel Management. The years between 2005 and 2008 were tough, but now things are going well. Word of mouth publicity has done the trick,” Tony beams.

That much is obvious, as the restaurant is filling up, and Tony, the sole person serving tables, is having to rush hither and thither. We quickly place our orders, following Tony’s recommendations – pork chops, beefsteak, roast pigling, chicken cafreal, bangda reichado, vindaloo, aad-maas and sundries (before you make moral notes about gluttony, note that we’re a party of six people) – and Tony bustles off to serve the other tables. Meanwhile, the menu card is a delight to read and displays the care and thought that has gone into every aspect of this unique restaurant. There is a one-page introduction titled ‘Come Dine at My Home’ which informs you that ‘the word “andron” has its origin in Greek, meaning an ancient Greek house – an apartment for men, especially for banqueting and dining’.

The food arrives, and there is no time to think of anything else as you savour the delicious flavours. The meat is tender and perfectly cooked – the beefsteak and pork chops, in particular, are a perfect delight. When Tony finds some time to come and chat, we ask him about the name of the restaurant. “Actually,” he grins, I thought of the name as a combination of my children’s names: Ana, Andre and Aaron. Then, when I was setting things up, I discovered this meaning in Greek.” Clearly, serendipity is at work, as it is in the two-storey building that houses the restaurant . “I planned this as a house for the family, but when I decided to set up Andron, we stayed on in our old house and decided to use this as a restaurant. If I had thought of it earlier, I would have designed this differently.” You’re glad he didn’t – some things are just meant to be, and clearly fate has conspired in a series of lucky accidents to produce Andron.

It’s time to leave, but we go to meet Peter Miranda, the chef from Nachinola who served up the culinary treat that we just enjoyed. Peter has been working here for the past 2-3 years. “The masala recipes are from my mother,” Tony tells us, “but it’s Peter who puts it all together.

The bill is the final surprise in a pleasant evening. The prices at Andron’s are about half of what you would pay for comparable food in Panjim, and most of the dishes are priced in the Rs 80-100 range. Six of us have stuffed ourselves silly, and had a few drinks too, and the bill is barely over Rs1000. How does Tony do it? But this is a question you decide not to ask – there is a limit to looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Andron also hosts family celebrations and parties for large groups. Contact Tony on 9421194482 for details. And even if you don’t live in the vicinity of Nachinola as we do, remember that it’s well worth making a longish trip to sample Tony’s generous hospitality.

Herald Mirror, 20 September 2009*

By Vidyadhar Gadgil

Partition was a cataclysmic event that scarred a generation and defined politics and nationhood — for the worse, many would argue — in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. The greatest mass migration in recorded history, with populations being exchanged across the border in Punjab, and to a lesser extent in Bengal, Partition is estimated to have left close to a million dead in its wake.
The events of Partition have inspired a creative outpouring by writers and film-makers. Films still continue to be made on the subject, and attract wide audiences. While a comprehensive listing is impossible in the limited space available, some artistic creations stand out.
Of the many writers who wrote about Partition, the greatest is undoubtedly Saadat Hasan Manto. ‘Toba Tek Singh’, a little tale of exchange of populations on religious lines between the lunatic asylums on both sides of the border has created an enduring metaphor for the insanity of Partition. His other stories on Partition, like ‘Thanda Gosht’ (Dead Meat) and ‘Khol Do’ (Open Up), take an unflinching look at the brutality of Partition and the madness that reigned in the name of religion during those traumatic times.
Many other Hindi, Urdu and Punjabi writers have written memborable stories and novels about Partition, including Krishna Baldev Vaid, Amrita Pritam, Bhisham Sahni, and Intizar Husain, whose novel Basti is a haunting look at Partition through the lens of memory, in the context of the 1971 Indo-Pak war. In English, we have Bapsi Sidhwa’s Ice-Candy Man and Khushwant Singh’s Train to Pakistan which was reissued in 2006 in a collector’s edition with 66 photographs by Margaret Bourke-White, the Time-Life photojournalist whose searing, gut-wrenching images of Partition are the starkest reminder that we have of the horrors of Partition. The stand-out novel on Partition in the East is Sunil Gangopadhyaya’s Purbo-Paschim (East-West), an epic saga of a family’s migration from East Pakistan to West Bengal that stretches into the 1980s
Many stories and books have have also been made into films including Bapsi Sidhwa’s Ice-Candy Man, filmed by Deepa Mehta as 1947: Earth with Aamir Khan and Nandita Das, and Amrita Pritam’s Pinjar (The Skeleton). Bhisham Sahni’s Tamas (Darkness) became widely known after it was filmed by Govind Nihalani and telecast as a serial on Doordarshan. Relatively unnoticed, Sabiha Sumar’s Khamosh Pani (Silent Waters), was an ironic look at Partition and its aftermath. But the best film on Partition is still the 1973 classic Garam Hawa (Scorching Winds), directed by M S Sathyu and starring Balraj Sahni. In Bengali, Partition was a theme that ran through the films of Ritwik Ghatak, and films like Meghe Dhaka Tara (Cloud-Capped Star) and Komal Gandhar (E Flat) deal with the dislocation and trauma of Partition refugees. On a less positive note, there was the super-hit Gadar: Ek Prem Katha (2001) which panders to the same jingoism and religious emotionalism that led to Partition.
Despite all these efforts by artists, Partition is sadly being forgotten — except when it is used to score political points. The neglect and indifference is clear from the fact that there exists no official memorial in India to the victims of Partition, leaving a gap that has been filled by literature and film.

*As a box item accompanying a larger article ‘The Trauma of Partition’ by Sajla Chawla, see http://musingsfromthehilltop.blogspot.com/

A Culture of Impunity

Herald, 18 September 2009

The Ishrat Jahan case highlights the disrespect for human rights that is now routine among our security forces, says VIDYADHAR GADGIL

If one thought, after the Tehelka revelations and the infamous Sohrabuddin case, that the human rights situation in Gujarat had already plumbed the depths of ignominy, the recent revelations in the Ishrat Jahan case have set a new standard of shame. The enquiry report by Magistrate S P Tamang has uncovered a sordid tale of a truly unconscionable crime – one committed not by those customarily termed criminals, but by the police force itself, including 21 members of its higher echelons.
Ishrat Jahan was a 19-year-old student of Khalsa College in Mumbai, who was gunned down in an ‘encounter’ with security forces on 15 June 2004, along with Javed Shaikh, and two alleged Pakistanis, Jisan Johar and Amjad Ali Rana. The police claimed that they were Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT) activists who were planning to assassinate Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi. Doubts were cast from the very start by human rights groups on the police version. Film-maker Shubhradeep Chakravorty, whose film ‘Encounter on Saffron Agenda’ examined four encounter cases – the Sameer Khan Pathan case, the Sadiq Jamal Mehtar case, the Ishrat Jahan case, and the Soharabuddin-Kausarbi case, all of whom were alleged to have been on missions to kill Narendra Modi – painstakingly documented the glaring gaps in the police versions in all these cases of encounters by the police team by DIG D G Vanzara.
With the magisterial enquiry report (mandatory in all encounter cases) by Magistrate S P Tamang, the stand of those who have questioned the police version of the Ishrat Jahan killing has been vindicated. According to the report, Ishrat was picked up from Mumbai and brought to Gujarat. She was then killed, along with the other alleged ‘terrorists’, in a fake encounter staged to impress Chief Minister Narendra Modi and secure promotions and cash awards. Pointing out various contradictions in the police version, the report dismisses the claim that the alleged terrorists had fired upon the police. The police forged and planted fake Pakistani identity cards on Jisan Johar and Amjad Ali Rana. The report concludes that “All the policemen involved had hatched a conspiracy and illegally detained Ishrat Jahan Raza because she was a Muslim from Mumbai, saying she was LeT fidayeen terrorist. She was detained illegally with others on June 12 sometime between 12.30 afternoon and 9 pm, were taken to some place different from the spot of crime on 14 June 2004, and Ishrat was killed between 11 pm and midnight in cold blood, very cruelly, shot at very short range.”
The report has become the subject of much controversy, with the Gujarat government vociferously denying the claims made in the report. The Centre has been left red-faced due to an affidavit filed earlier by the central Home Ministry, which corroborated the Gujarat police version without making any effort to verify the authenticity of the intelligence inputs connecting Ishrat and the three other victims with the LeT. This affidavit also stated that “No proposal for CBI investigation is under consideration of the Centre nor does it consider the present case fit for CBI probe.” Now the Gujarat High Court, on a petition filed by the Gujarat government, has stayed the report and directed the Registrar General to initiate disciplinary action against the magistrate for not obtaining the permission of the court before forwarding the report to the Chief Metropolitan Magistrate.
The case will drag on, as such matters usually do, probably reaching the Supreme Court. The case has also become the subject of the usual political football between the Congress and the BJP. But, coming after the revelations in the Sohrabuddin-Kauserbi case and the doubts raised over the role of the police in similar cases in Gujarat, the Ishrat Jahan case highlights the culture of impunity that exists in the police force. What does one say about a police force that can pick up an innocent 19-year-old girl, stitch her and her fiancee up as terrorists, and then kill them in cold blood, all for rewards and promotions? How does one describe the cold-blooded killing of Sohrabuddin, a petty criminal, and his wife Kauserbi, whose only fault was that she happened to be married to Sohrabbudin? These two cases are only the most well known among 28 cases of alleged fake encounters that have been covered up. There are no adequate epithets for such behaviour and culture among the men in uniform – one can only wonder in speechless horror what this means for the rule of law and order and our future as a democratic nation.
It is no secret that the Gujarat government and the police force are thoroughly communalised, and have scant regard for human rights, particularly those of minorities. But this is not an isolated problem – security forces across the country have similar disrespect for human rights; it is only the targets of their abuses that vary. There is a willingness to use extreme measures and manufacture evidence to justify their activities. And governments in India, including the central government, irrespective of the parties ruling at any given time, usually not only turn a blind eye to such human rights abuses but even condone and encourage such behaviour.
For the past twenty years or so, human rights abuses by security forces in Kashmir have become so commonplace that they fail to excite particular attention or comment, unless there is a major protest across the valley, as in the Shopian case. The North-East is another long-standing trouble spot, and the list of human rights abuses, particularly by the notorious Assam Rifles, have led to huge protests. Human rights activist Sharmila Irom has been on hunger strike for years now, and some time ago, elderly women staged a nude protest that drew international attention. Nagaland is relatively peaceful at present, as is Mizoram, but Assam is another state that is facing problems of insurgency, something that is often used by the State to justify the most egregious human rights abuses.
There is a similar problem across Central India, covering the states of Maharashtra, Andhra Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Orissa and Jharkhand, which are facing Maoist groups which have considerable sympathy among the tribal populations of these areas. The State has reacted with extreme violence perpetrated by the security forces, with the Chhattisgarh government having even sponsored an armed militia – the Salwa Judum – to counter the threat. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has described the Maoist insurgency as the biggest single internal security threat facing the country, which may or may not be true, but such perceptions are used to justify and whatever is done by the security forces. After all, the thinking goes, they are “our” boys, who are fighting “our” battles, and they deserve a blank chit to tackle the problem in whatever way they see fit, irrespective of trivialities like human rights, due procedure and the law.
In an open letter to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh regarding the Ishrat Jahan case, social activist Shabnam Hashmi raised some very pertinent questions. Questioning the logic that justifies cover-ups of such incidents on the grounds that bringing them to light and punishing the guilty will adversely affect the morale of the security forces, she asks, “…What happens to the morale of the officers when they torture innocent young people, when they kill them, when they illegally detain them, beat them. What happens to their morale then? Do they just go home and sleep?”
This is something we would all do well to ponder. These are the men charged with maintaining law and order. What is our future as a democratic nation if this is how they act, and if we condone such actions?

Folk Religion and Hindutva

Herald, 4 September 2009

Forcing compliance with a monolithic model of Hinduism runs counter to Hinduism’s inherent strengths, argues VIDYADHAR GADGIL

As the dust settles on the failed campaign of the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti (HJS) and Sanatan Sanstha (SS) to intimidate the artist Subodh Kerkar into complying with their narrow vision of Hinduism, one aspect that has been overlooked is the attempts of these organisations to impose and enforce a Brahminical view of Hinduism as the only proper method of worship and devotion for all Hindus. The campaigns of the HJS and the SS over the past few years have not been restricted to attacking cultural expressions that they do not agree with. Over the past few years, particularly in the Goan hinterland, they have been systematically targeting folk religion and trying to force it to conform to this narrow Brahminical view.
Ganesh Mandals across Goa have had run-ins with the activists of these groups, who take exception to the myriad ways in which Hindu folk religion depicts Hindu deities, and demand that these depictions should strictly follow Brahminical scripture. What makes all this much easier is a supine and compliant government, which, while claiming to be ‘secular’, responds with alacrity to the slightest whim of these groups. This creates a culture of impunity which makes the strategy of intimidation all the more credible and effective.
Religion has many facets, and fulfils many human needs. Karl Marx has famously described it as the “opium of the people”, indicating that institutionalised religion is a tool of oppression that is used by the elites to buttress their power and deaden and co-opt protest against exploitation, as can be seen from the fact that institutionalised religion has more often than not been an ally of the state and the elites and a supporter of the status quo. But while this characterisation by Marx is well known, Marx also recognised that religion is “the general theory of this world, its encyclopaedic compendium, its logic in popular form, its spiritual point d’honneur, its enthusiasm, its moral sanction, its solemn complement, and its universal basis of consolation and justification.” Marx goes on to say that “religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.”
If institutionalised religion is the “opium of the people”, folk religion is the “sigh of the oppressed creature”, through which the underprivileged and exploited have sought to express their protest against injustice, in the absence of other ways to do so. Such traditions are present in all religions, and while institutionalised religion is favoured by the elites, folk religion has attracted the allegiance of the masses. Hinduism has always been particularly rich in folk expressions – in fact, Hinduism is an amalgam of various folk beliefs and forms of worship that have been embraced and assimilated over the centuries. Thus, along with the better-known deities like Ram, Ganesh and Shiva that have a pan-Indian presence, we have local deities – for instance, Sateri and Vetal in Goa.
The bhakti tradition in Hinduism was an expression of the “sigh of the oppressed creature” and bhakti poet saints like Tukaram, Namdev and Kabir in their poetry depicted the sufferings of the common people and implicitly questioned structures of power that were instrumental in exploitation and oppression. These poets live on in the minds of the masses, hundreds of years after their death, and common folk are far more familiar with the writings of these poet saints than they are with scriptural Brahminical texts. Similarly, lower caste and tribal groups, living close to and dependent upon nature, have favoured folk deities that have come down from a past of nature worship and animism, and have also adapted and creatively reinterpreted other deities like Ganesh to fit their needs.
Given this multiplicity of beliefs and practices, the Hindutvavadis’ attempts to forge a monolithic Hindu identity – something that has never existed through history, given the multiplicity of practices and beliefs (and lack of them) that go to make up the rich mosaic of Hinduism – do gross injustice to the folk expressions of the masses. Hindutva has consistently resorted to passing off a narrow Brahminical view as ‘true’ Hinduism. This is no surprise, given the roots of the Hindutva ideology in the Brahminical RSS. From its earliest days Hindutva has consistently presented a Brahminical model as the ideal, including in Deen Dayal Upadhyaya’s theory of ‘Integral Humanism’ (the philosophy that the BJP swears by, and which is nothing but a veiled justification of the caste system) down to present times. The gods and the forms of worship that it has promoted have also matched Brahminical ideals.
The compulsions of electoral politics, and the need to forge a wider voting bloc beyond its traditional base of Brahmins and Baniyas forced the Bharatiya Janata Party to search for ways to extend its appeal. Various Dalit writers, including B R Ambedkar and Jyotiba Phule (in his famous essay ‘Their Gods are not Our Gods’) had shown that beliefs and practices among the lower castes were quite different from those of the upper castes. But rather than adapt rituals and deities in a way that would appeal to lower castes and tribals, or absorbing folk deities, the Sangh Parivar has projected particular deities for these groups – deities that were subservient to the main deities of the Brahminical pantheon. Thus, rather than promoting Ram as the ideal for the lower castes, it has been Hanuman who has been valourised – as the faithful servant of Ram – clearly indicating to the lower castes that their proper role in the hierarchy was as servants of the upper castes.
The same pattern was seen in the infamous Shabri Kumbh Mela in 2006, which sought to promote Shabri, a tribal woman who, according to legend, was a devotee of Ram, as a deity in the tribal region of Dangs in Gujarat. Promoted by the RSS, the three-day Shabri Kumbh Mela was clearly an attempt to Hinduise the tribal community – but in a role clearly subservient to the upper castes.
It is in this context that one needs to understand the efforts of the HJS and SS in relation to the depictions of Lord Ganesh. Among the prescriptions on the HJS website are the detailed guidelines regarding the proper mode of worship of Lord Ganesh, including the view that Ganesh idols should be sculpted only from clay or mud. It recommends making idols that are small in size, and warns against making idols for display, since “idols cannot be objects of exhibition”. Finally, there is an injunction that “idols of Lord Ganesh should not have weird forms and attires”.
A perusal of the prescriptions would show that the vast majority of idols of Lord Ganesh would be considered improper, and SS activists have taken this to extremes. In one case, they opposed the depiction of Lord Ganesh with a flute, claiming that a flute is the instrument of Krishna. These prescriptions allegedly come from scripture, but a more careful examination would show that the ideal idol according to the HJS is the kind that is traditionally favoured by the Maharashtrian Konkanastha Brahmin community – hardly a surprise, given that one such Brahmin, Jayant Athavale, is the head of the Sanatan Sanstha.
This would be fine as far as it goes – cults are most welcome to have their own views about how religious practice should be organised. But the problem is that the HJS and SS forcibly try to impose their views on people at large. Through this, they aim to create a monolithic Hinduism, which, in the long run, will strike at the very strengths that has enabled Hinduism to survive down the centuries – its ability to accept and assimilate a wide variety of influences within its rich mosaic.

Herald, 21 Aug 2009

Bans and court orders are now passé – intimidation is a better strategy to impose your worldview on society, says VIDYADHAR GADGIL

THE BIGGER PICTURE

The latest attempt at cultural censorship by the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti (HJS) and the Sanatan Sanstha (SS) – demanding that artist Subodh Kerkar cancel his exhibition of Lord Ganesh pictures, and its campaign against him and the Marathi daily Lokmat for a cartoon ‘denigrating’ Swami Ramdas, the seventeenth-century Maharashtrian saint and contemporary of Shivaji – has firmly drawn the battle-lines between those who believe in freedom of expression and those who would like to constrain cultural and social expression within the narrow straitjacket of their obscurantist agenda.
The pictures of Ganesh drawn by Kerkar are a playful portrayal of the popular Hindu God in a variety of poses. Kerkar himself has been at pains to clarify his stand on the issue: “There is absolutely no intention of hurting anybody’s religious feelings. My drawings are my offerings to Shree Ganapati and no kind of insult is intended … If some people’s feelings have been hurt by these drawings, it only shows their narrow-mindedness and fanaticism.”
The allegation that Kerkar and Lokmat have ‘denigrated’ Swami Ramdas is even more bizarre. The cartoon in question is a genuinely funny comment on cultural censorship. The seventeenth-century Maharashtrian saint Samarth Swami Ramdas is traditionally depicted (including on the covers of his popular Marathi books like ‘Manache Shlok’ and ‘Dasabodh’) wearing a caxtti. The cartoon shows an artist standing before an easel with a canvas of a man wearing a suit, and telling his friend, “Of course this is a drawing of Swami Ramdas. I have dressed him in a suit to avoid hurting anybody’s sentiments.” To find such humour offensive is to extend ‘narrow-mindedness’ and ‘fanaticism’ to ridiculous extremes.
Coming hot on the heels of its demand to remove M F Husain’s painting ‘Standing Buddha’ (which the Samiti itself admits is unexceptionable) from the Goa State Museum, the HJS’s latest demand is so unreasonable that it has, for once, united a wide range of citizens in Goa and prompted them to speak out against such egregious cultural censorship. But there are yet those who dismiss the HJS’ campaign as palpably silly (which it is) and consider speaking out against it to be a mistake, as it gives organisations like the HJS (particularly its fraternal organisation, the Sanatan Sanstha) the publicity they crave and furthers their agenda. But such a view betrays an ignorance of how such organisations operate, and how they succeed in imposing their agenda and vision upon society through systematic intimidation of all opposition.
The HJS is perpetually in campaign mode in its main areas of operation – Goa, Maharashtra and Karnataka – and is indefatigable in its efforts to hunt out and eradicate anything that offends its narrow view of Hinduism. A random sample of alleged ‘denigrations’ of Hinduism from the website of the HJS at http://www.hindujagruti.org/ includes the films Kambakht Ishq, Slumdog Millionaire and The Love Guru; portrayals of Hindu deities in advertisements; and various painters, of which group Subodh Kerkar is the latest member and M F Husain the most illustrious. Ten minutes on the website of the HJS would lead any reasonable person to dismiss the whole caboodle as nonsense and a waste of time – and that is where the reasonable person would be making a serious mistake.
In the course of its campaigns, the HJS uses every means possible to ensure that anything it considers offensive is changed or removed as per its diktats, and it meets with remarkable success in its efforts. When faced with demonstrations and agitations, theatres and art galleries make the changes that are demanded rather than live with the implied threat of ‘retaliation’, and the HJS website reports numerous ‘successes’, with changes made and apologies tendered by film-makers, print media publications, art galleries, and even the Frankfurt Book Fair.
The India Art Summit, reportedly the country’s largest art fair, cited ‘security reasons’, this year (for the second consecutive time), and did not include a single painting by M F Husain, though he is probably India’s best-known painter. Neha Kirpal, Associate Director of the Summit, says that according to her information, “in the last four years, nobody has done any show of Mr Husain in the country.” There is no need to get the government to ban Husain’s works or to get the courts to rule them objectionable (which contention the Delhi High Court dismissed anyway, while exonerating Husain of charges of obscenity and disrespect to religion). The atmosphere of intimidation that has been created ensures that Husain is blocked out of the country’s cultural landscape. Such cultural censorship, without any reference to governments and legal process, is an even bigger blow to freedom of expression than any ban could ever be.
In Goa, the HJS has organised ‘Dharma Jagruti Sabhas’ in the recent past, as part of its stated agenda of “creating awareness amongst Hindus”. Apart from the usual suspects from the BJP, these Sabhas have been attended by politicians like Transport Minister Sudin Dhavlikar of the MGP. The dividends to the HJS have been rich. In 2007, the HJS organised photo exhibitions on Kashmir all over Goa, including one at the government-run Kala Academy. These exhibitions demonised Muslims, and the mobilisation by the HJS around these exhibitions was so virulent that it should have been prosecuted under the provisions banning hate speech. No such thing was done, and ‘secular’ Congress Chief Minister Digambar Kamat actually had the gall to visit the exhibition in Panjim and convert it into a photo-op.
In 2008, the HJS demanded that an award-winning 1966 film ‘Through the Eyes of a Painter’ by M F Husain be withdrawn from IFFI and, on the advice of the Goa government, the Directorate of Film Festivals (DFF) promptly did so. Fortunately, protests by the film fraternity, including luminaries like Shyam Benegal and Adoor Gopalakrishnan, forced a red-faced DFF to screen the film, but not before the damage was done by demonstrating exactly whose writ runs in Goa. During the recent Assembly session, the HJS organised a demonstration in Panjim against temple desecrations, which blocked traffic on one of the Mandovi bridges for hours and featured banners showing a Catholic priest and a Muslim moulvi presiding benignly over the destruction of a temple. No action is reported to have been taken by the police.
Citizens who speak out against the communal agenda of the HJS and the SS receive a barrage of hate mail and threatening calls for their pains, from people claiming to be associated with these organisations. Police complaints – for, inevitably, ‘hurting religious sentiments’ – are filed frequently. Numerous activists from human rights groups and rationalist organisations have also had defamation cases filed against them for speaking out against the HJS and the SS.
While the current imbroglio over the Husain painting in the Goa State Museum and the campaign against Subodh Kerkar has created a welcome unity among citizens in Goa in opposition to the activities of the HJS and the SS, unless the government shows some spine and takes efforts to discharge its constitutional duty of protecting freedom of expression, Goa’s vibrant cultural landscape will inevitably turn into an arid desert, with the HJS and SS succeeding in imposing their agenda and vision on society.
As they have in the Subodh Kerkar case too…
Statements supporting Kerkar have been issued, public meetings held in his support, reams of newsprint have been expended on defending him and excoriating the HJS, and the issue has become a cause célèbre in artistic and journalistic circles. But make no mistake about it – despite all this, the politics of intimidation has proved effective. The bottom line is that an exhibition that was slated to run for 11 days will now run for just two days. And that is a victory for the HJS and a defeat for all those who believe in freedom of expression.

Goan Business Ahoy!

Herald Mirror, 9 August

By Vidyadhar Gadgil
For a state with a population of a mere million-and-a-half, Goa has a remarkably vibrant, diverse and feisty print media landscape, with numerous daily newspapers in English and Marathi, and also one in Konkani. In addition, there are weeklies and monthlies in all three major languages, resulting in a situation that would do a state 10 times as large proud.
But one lack that has often been felt has been that of a Goan business magazine, which has meant that business matters in Goa do not get the coverage they deserve. Though the existing newspapers and magazines do carry business news, they cannot compensate entirely for the lack of a magazine dedicated to this sector. This also means that Goan business ends up as a mere drop in the Indian business ocean, and does not get the coverage it merits.
This gap has now been filled by Business Goa, the brainchild of editor Harshvardhan Bhatkuly and Rajiv D’Silva. Through his advertising agency ‘Savoir Faire’, Bhatkuly has been closely involved with Goan business matters, and the depth of his and D’Silva’s knowledge of the Indian business sector can be gauged from the fact that they have excelled in the most prestigious business quizzes in India.
The inaugural issue of the magazine is a slim 38 pages (to be expanded to 60 pages over time), and yet it succeeds in packing in a host of information. The cover story is, fittingly, a tribute to six ‘modern masters’ of Goan business: Narcinva Damodar Naik, Vishwasrao Chowgule, Modu Timblo, Vasudeva Salgaocar, Pascoal Joao Menezes and Vasantrao Dempo. Selecting six ‘modern masters’ to showcase in the first issue is a process fraught with pitfalls, and while there may be quibbles about who should and should not be in this select list of six, it is certainly a representative, if not perfect, roll of honour.
Rajiv D’Silva celebrates the Geographical Indication (GI) status obtained by Goan feni, and discusses its implications with Mac Vaz of Madame Rosa Distilleries, who led the effort to obtain this coveted recognition. In an interview, Cesar Menezes, the new President of the Goa Chamber of Commerce and Industry, discusses various issues related to the current state of industry in Goa, and gives his suggestions on how the business environment could be made more positive.
Turning the spotlight on two successful young Goan entrepreneurs, Raj Bhandare of Nirvana and Nisha Vaz of Lava, the issue has their insights on the difficulties and joys faced by those wanting to set up greenfield businesses in the service sector, and how ‘Brand Goa’ can be leveraged to maximum effect.
The usual matters that go to make up a business magazine are also featured, if somewhat perfunctorily, but that will doubtless be attended to in future. One also wishes that a more recent book could have been found for the review section. Freakonomics, by Steven Lewitt and Stephen Dubner, though distinctly a quirky business classic of sorts, is four years old.
But these are minor niggles in a laudable initiative, and one trusts that, in the editor’s words, the rough “edges…will smoothen over time”. It is also to be hoped that in time, the magazine will develop as a critical and analytical supporter of Goan business, rather than a Public Relations exercise.
A welcome addition to Goa’s media landscape, the magazine is now before the public, the final arbiters. Goan business must come forward to extend to this effort the support it so richly deserves, and help it get through the teething pains that inevitably crop up in the initial days of such a venture.

Nary a Roof for Shelter

Herald, 7 August 2009

Prejudice and discrimination are daily facts of life for India’s minorities and lower castes, says VIDYADHAR GADGIL

T he Emraan Hashmi case, wherein the actor has alleged that he was denied an NOC for a flat in a housing society in Mumbai because he was a Muslim, has become a cause celebre of sorts. After Hashmi – flanked by film-maker Mahesh Bhatt, his mentor, and an artist who has always been vocal against communalism – made his allegation, all hell broke loose. First, the housing society went into denial mode, claiming that they had not discriminated in any way against Hashmi, and that it had been his parents who had barged in to the society office and demanded a NOC forthwith.
It was at this point that things really started to get bizarre. A police complaint was filed against Hashmi by Sanjay Bedia, an executive member of the National Youth Committee of Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), claiming that it was Hashmi who was spreading communal disharmony and “promoting enmity between different communities”! The BJP was quick to get in on the act, claiming that such people were “blackmailing” society by posing as victims of communalism and spreading divisions within it. According to BJP spokesperson Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi, “The manner in which a film actor has tried to project his selfish personal interest as injustice to the minority community will only deepen distrust towards the minorities instead of creating any sympathy for them.”
By now the issue has snowballed into a veritable media circus. The Shiv Sena mouthpiece Saamna has launched an all-out attack on the actor, denying that he was refused a flat because he was a Muslim, and challenging him to go to Pakistan and buy a house there. Similar shrill statements have been issued by other right-wing parties and groups.
When the circus is on, the star performers have to put in a turn, so now we have Salman Khan and Shah Rukh Khan attacking Emraan. Salman apparently considers the fact that he, Aamir Khan and Shahrukh Khan – all Muslims – are top Bollywood stars is proof that Muslims are not discriminated against in India. Shahrukh Khan, fortunate soul that he is, claims that he has never been discriminated against in his life for being a Muslim, and that the people of India had “overcome the barriers of religion, castes, class in their hearts and minds”. India shining indeed, certified as such by none other than the top marquee star of Indian cinema.
It is hardly surprising that Hashmi’s allegations should have sparked off a face-off between those who believe that Hashmi is milking his celebrity status for personal gain, and those who think that he was unfairly discriminated against. In any case, the merits of this particular case are not the issue here. But what is truly depressing to note is how much we, as a society, are in denial about the prejudice and discrimination against minorities and marginalised groups that exists in every walk of life.
It is not Muslims alone – Dalits, Christians and tribals all face such prejudice frequently. Dalit poet Daya Pawar wrote a bitter essay about the discrimination he faced as a Dalit resident of a middle-class housing society in Mumbai. Stories of Christians and Muslims being denied housing in middle-class areas are all too common. Their religious affiliations may not be overtly invoked, but they are denied housing because they are non-vegetarian, or because they are “culturally different”, with each excuse being more inventive than the last. A plural society like India, composed of so many different communities and groups, is well on the way to being segregated and ghettoised along lines of community and caste.
Even celebrity status is no guarantee of insulation against prejudice and bigotry. Some years ago, there was a furore when Shabana Azmi and her husband Javed Akhtar made similar allegations. Other celebrities who claim to have faced discrimination on religious grounds include Aamir Khan and Saif Ali Khan. Shahrukh Khan, though, seems to be in a separate category – maybe he has now reached such rarefied heights that he has put himself out of the reach of the problems faced by more ordinary mortals. That is as may be, but his claim that he never faced discrimination in his life because of being a Muslim can safely be dismissed as celebrity babble designed for page 3.
We all know that the facts are quite otherwise: all we have to do is look around us, and examine our own hearts honestly. Discrimination and prejudice are facts of life at every turn in Indian society, and urban middle- and upper-class India is no exception. Muslims, Dalits and other groups are denied housing; people are reluctant to patronise businesses run by them; and they are often socially shunned. Overt bigotry, which went underground in the heyday of Nehruvian secularism, has now become mainstream.
Adding fuel to this prejudice are the communal campaigns that are run by organisations like the Vishwa Hindu Parishad to further marginalise minorities. In Gujarat, before and after the 2002 communal violence, the VHP has been actively distributing pamphlets asking people not to patronise Muslim business establishments and restaurants. Nor is Gujarat the only state where this is happening – similar campaigns have been reported from many parts of the country. In such a situation, to claim that Indians have “overcome the barriers of religion, castes, class in their hearts and minds” is not only disingenuous but also dangerous, as failure to even acknowledge such a widespread problem forecloses any possibility of working towards change.
Now we have the case of Taufique Kitchlew, who was forced to leave Amritsar some months ago and migrate to Delhi because no one would rent a house to him because of his religion. Taufique Kitchlew has an impressive lineage – he is the son of Saifuddin Kitchlew, renowned freedom fighter. Founding leader of the Naujawan Bharat Sabha, Kitchlew was opposed to the Muslim League’s demand for Pakistan. He strongly opposed the acceptance of the Partition of India by the Congress Party, terming it a gross “surrender of nationalism for communalism”.
Tawfique Kitchlew himself was active in the freedom struggle, and recalls distributing pamphlets and participating in protests. In 1947, with the fires of Partition raging in the Punjab, the Kitchlews were advised to leave Amritsar for their own safety. They left – not westwards to Pakistan like most other Muslims in the Punjab but eastwards to Delhi. In the dusk of his life, he wanted to return to Amritsar and write a personal memoir, but could not do so because no one was willing to rent him a house. He was forced to return to Delhi, where he was provided a house in a remote Delhi village by the Sheila Dikshit government.
Kitchlew’s case demonstrates that just as celebrity status does not protect you, neither does participation in the freedom struggle. If Tawfique Kitchlew can face such problems, one can well imagine the plight of the ordinary Muslim in the country. It is hardly surprising under the circumstances that poorer Muslims are forced to congregate in ghettos with poor civic facilities – areas that are often dubbed ‘mini Pakistans’. They are even denied burial facilities for their dead, as we have seen in Goa. Even death does not bring an end to discrimination.
It is time we stopped being in denial about this very real problem. Muslims are often blamed for wanting to emphasise their differences from other communities and remain isolated from the rest of society. The shoe is as much on the other foot – it is the rest of society that keeps them isolated and ghettoised, and does not give them an opportunity to integrate. The same is the case with Christians, who are facing increasing discrimination, and Dalits, who have lived with this problem for centuries. Belonging to a minority religion or a lower caste in India means to face discrimination on a regular basis. It is high time that we acknowledge and address the problem.

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