Give Them a Break, They are Too Old to be There-Shivani Mohan/ khaleej Times13 Aug 2009

It was a horrifying scene. Veteran Indian leader George Fernandes — who won a seat in Rajya Sabha as an independent candidate — taking oath in a state of absolute shambles. He looked weak, tired and weary and had problems reading the oath.

He needed assistance to walk, stand up and read out the script. The scene raised a big question mark on his ability to contribute in any way to the ongoing proceedings, given the acerbic and aggressive way in which our houses function. Now I do not have anything against Georgie boy. His career in Indian politics has been the stuff of brimstone and fire. He has always been a firebrand politician and as far as eye can see, one who has been honest 
and forthright.

In a country where most politicians are afflicted with an acute case of megalomania, his khadi kurta, no frills demeanor and total disregard for Z security was a welcome change. But clearly now his best is past him. And it was rather unfortunate to see him in that state taking his oath. I know it is crass to ridicule the old. After all every one of us will get old someday.

In India the parliament is full of septuagenarians and octogenarians. Many of them come to the sessions in wheelchairs and doze off during sessions. They stumble on their dhotis, fall down in public gaze and faint while viewing military parades. If we look at the leading international leaders todaythe shift everywhere is towards young and vibrant icons. Obama is 47-just see him get off a plane, he looks like a man on a mission; Putin, who in the buff could easily give Daniel Craig a run for his money in a Russian version of James Bond, goes deep sea-diving in Siberia and is proficient in Sambo a Russian form of martial arts; Sarkozy well, he has Carla Bruni. Apart from doing what they are supposed to be doing, they lead jet-setting lifestyles and schmooze with style and élan. Crackling with energy and vitality, they have beer summits, go for beach holidays and have fashion icons as wives. Then why does India have to make do with dhoti and khadi clad fuddy duddies?

India as a society has always given immense regard and respect to age. Patriarchs hold court over joint families and make important decisions till the last day of their lives. It is a good thing that due to the societal structures here, the old are not ostracised unlike some Western countries, though now the trend is changing here too. It is okay in India if you are over 35 and still live with your parents. Sending old parents to old age homes is still frowned upon. But there is a difference between giving regard to age and letting age rule over the governance of the country beyond acceptable levels of perfect physical and mental health. Age is not a substitute for dynamism and efficiency. Eighty per cent of Indian politicians are well over 70, while 70 per cent of the country’s population is below 40 years of age. Senior politicians in our parties have acquired larger-than-life images, simply because of their length of stay and not for any great accomplishments made by them.

The average age of Indian Prime Ministers since 1947 is 65.2 years, which is more than the prescribed retirement age of professionals in government institutions and departments. While it would be wrong to say that all our young parliamentarians today are brilliant and bubbling with ideas right away, but they do give a youthful and progressive perspective and have many fruitful years ahead of them. The baba log brigade of Rahul Gandhi, Sachin Pilot, Varun Gandhi, Milind Deora – photogenic as they are, still look like a bunch of greenhorns who often need to take a back seat and undergo the strict party ‘hierarchy’ before they can reach the upper echelons of power. These debates come up every few years regarding a legislation spelling out the upper age limit for leaders in our country, but such is the ideological vacuum in India’s foremost political parties that they cannot do away with their lucky mascots who are few and far between and getting older. Perhaps, we should shift focus and just think of providing extra care and specialised services to our beloved elderly leaders.

· Frequent cups of green herbal tea for its antioxidant qualities and tackling of those aches and pains. Maybe a Prozac for the ordeal of actually braving the taciturn circus-like sessions we see on TV.

· Light meals such as gruel, khichri, porridge and vegetable stews can be stocked up in the canteen. Though inside news is that only communists actually dine there, with all others rushing off to the nearest five star hotels. Surely all that greasy heavy food couldn’t be good for their guts.

· A tablet of digene after their lunch.

· Some of them could use a regular dose of laxatives. So maybe a lifetime supply of Isabgol.

· And for those suffering at the other end of the spectrum, maybe some free supply of adult diapers.

· Hearing devices with a special feature to block out shrill discourses by the likes of Mamta Banerjee and Mayawati. Surely all that ranting couldn’t be good for their hearts.

· Convert one wing in all houses and state assemblies into geriatric wards with an inhouse doctor/cardiologist/ nephrologists/ oncologist/ urologist/neurosurgeon.

· They could make some good money by becoming the brand ambassadors of leading hospitals in India. Imagine Manmohan for Escorts, George Fernandes for AIIMS, Karunanidhi well, he can just be the spokesperson for RayBans on wheelchair!

· Finally, a work from home option so that till the last day of their life they can lie down in bed and hold the proceedings via web conferences.

· If in spite of all these precautions, if someone kicks the bucket while on duty, an in-house undertaker would not be entirely out of turn.

Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer. She can be reached at smshivanimohan@gmail.com

Statue-tory Warnings- Shivani Mohan (INDIA) / Khaleej Times 26 July 2009

The train chugged along central India with an even motion and a steady, sing song rhythm. Finding one entire cubicle to ourselves, my daughter and I had made ourselves fairly comfortable with our luggage casually scattered all around the two lower berths. Across from us, on the side berth, sat an affable middle class family with a young kid my daughter’s age. The two children struck an instant camaraderie. Soon the whole family was busy chatting with us. Their constant banter and friendly overtures kept my daughter occupied, leaving me free to read my paperback, a luxury few mothers with hyper active children can afford on board a moving train. We still had five hours to reach our destination. Obscure little stations emerged ever once in a while selling too-sweet masala chai and soggy pakoras. Suddenly there was an air of expectancy all around, some commotion. The ticket collector came and checked with me how many seats we had, as he surveyed our luggage. He asked me to quickly clear up one side to make way for someone. The coach attendant promptly came and swept the floor and laid out fresh linen. He sprayed the musty train air with a fragrant room freshener that we had not had the privilege of smelling till now. A mineral water bottle and two sparkling glasses secured in cling-wrap were placed on the side shelf. Soon a man in a starched white kurta pyjama walked in accompanied by a lady in a neat crepe saree. He had an air of importance and self absorption that made any eye-contact or exchange of pleasantries impossible. Soon the curtain dividing our little cubicle from the aisle was drawn and we could see two pairs of sturdy shoes standing in vigil outside. My daughter peeped out from the curtain and saw two gun-toting body guards and she hushed back to me “Ma, they’ve got guns. Is there going to be a fight now like the movies?” I shushed her quickly and asked her to read a book too. Starchy-white in front of us, along with his wife, settled down and got busy with his cell phone, a fat blackberry, the new emblem of people who have arrived in life. It was obvious that he was a politician. His attire, his demeanour, his insolence and the body guards were complete give aways. I couldn’t help catching snatches of his conversations over the phone. “ Haan, DSPji. Yes, I have been very busy. Just coming back from the rally. What have you done about that crook? Don’t leave him I am telling you. Beat him and make him utter what you want, otherwise you know people above do not take kindly to these aberrations. Understood? Good.” Soon Starchywhite took out another phone and made a call. This time the tone was pure honey. “Sir, I have sorted out the bloody DSP. You will get the news soon ji. And any other service I could do? (Slimy laughter)... I am always at your service, Sir. It was only you who forgot me (some more slimy laughter). Ji ji, sure.” By this time another phone started ringing. It was not the blackberry. He juggled with the one he was talking on, and contorted to locate the third one from amidst all his pockets, managing a hullo in the nick of time. Crepesaree looked at him with a marked disgust. Starchywhite yelled into the third phone, “What? The new car? How can that be? Arre I have told you people to be more careful. Anyway let me speak to the DM. Don’t worry, I am there na.” Crepesaree, by this time had creased her forehead to a fine mesh as she stared at a spot above my head. It was almost as if we did not exist for them. Starchywhite, however, carried on relentlessly. He dialled a number and said, “So how are you? Haan, your plot is confirmed. Meanwhile one of my boys, you know apna bachcha, he was driving his new car without the number plate, impatient kid that he is. He has been caught at the Gandhi Chowk Naka. Make sure he is released immediately. He is my boy, ok.” The three phones kept ringing incessantly. He sorted out all sorts of petty wrangles. Job interview, no problem. Petrol Pump, no problem. Court case, no problem. But nothing to do with governance or public welfare. With each phone his wife cowered and scowled a little harder, simpering inside and sighing. My daughter who felt restless in the curtained trap went up to their side and tried making conversation, hoping to get the same response she had been getting from the other family. Starchywhite was too preoccupied to even notice. Crepesaree glowered even harder. Once in between all the calls he had turned to his wife and said, “Why have you made such a sullen face? I don’t know what your problem is. Enjoy all this while you can. Everyone watches, even the bodyguards, don’t you know?” They still pretended we didn’t exist. I pretended the book in my hand was the most engrossing book I had ever read. She dug him a killer glare and looked the other way. Only for that one moment Starchywhite had looked vulnerable, helpless and almost human. Later as we further took the road to reach our destination, the road has ditches the size of small cars. Visiting this area after eight years, I can see no visible change at all. No new buildings, no constructions. The same parched stretches between villages, the same dingy hamlets en route, none of the radiant signs of development one sees in Delhi, Mumbai, areas elsewhere in the country. The driver of our vehicle tells me that this road meanders between two neighbouring states — MP and UP, with the result that the administrations of both the states have turned a blind eye to it for decades. The Chief Minister of one of these states is busy getting her own statues erected at public places. Choosing statues over basic amenities for the common people is a pretty lopsided view in place. It is ironic that this state has heavy-weight constituencies that have a legacy of giving victories to India’s foremost ruling party, a state that the Gandhi family turns to every five years. Twelve hour power cuts are the order of the day in this area. So every day for half a day life is lived on hold mode. Impoverished rural walk into the house asking if they could do some work, any work for you. For any little amount. The image of Starchywhite appears in my mind. I had not bothered to find out his name or status. Why did he have to travel by train with lesser mortals, is still a mystery. Maybe he missed a flight. Maybe this was a PR exercise, a way of connecting with the masses, in which case, it certainly left much to be desired. It didn’t matter which state he was from, UP or MP; or which political party in India. Weren’t they all the same? Drunk with power and miles away from any real human contact. The bodyguards assured that.  The blackberrys assured that. Statues at every street corner ensured that. While Mayawati and Rahul Gandhi spar endlessly everyday deciding who has taken UP for a bigger ride, 40 years of Congress rule or Mayawati’s more recent statue-tory goonda raaj,  everything else remains the same all around and people such as Starchywhite thrive at the grassroots of Indian politics.  Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer. She can be reached at smshivanimohan@gmail.com

Burqa Clad: To Be or Not to Be is a Personal Choice-Shivani Mohan (Debate) / Khaleej Times 7 July 2009

The recent burqa debate spurred by French President Sarkozy has invited extreme views ranging from the indignant to the defensive.

He undoubtedly disturbed a hornet’s nest by his cavalier attitude and insensitive tirade against the burqa. There have been backlashes of defensive support for the burqa all over the world. The rhetoric is ironic especially seen in the context of the various instances where Carla Bruni’s nude pictures have figured regularly on websites. Don’t teach us what civilisation and progress means, Sarkozy is the general crux of messages being flung at him.

Being an Indian I would be equally outraged if I was not allowed to wear a saree or a salwar kameez in any other part of the world. It is true that every culture has the right to uphold it’s traditions and ethos. But in this obvious East verses West debate, aren’t we being churlish enough to uphold and condone a symbol of female subjugation. In India we have our own forms of the viel—the ghunghat, the odhni or the pallu. But the burqa is more than a garment. It is less a piece of clothing and more a shroud that reduces the person wearing it into a shadow, a blur. Can anybody from the non-Muslim world recall or remember even one admirable or famous burqa-clad lady? The answer is an emphatic no.

One of the most recognised faces of Muslim women in this century,  Benazir Bhutto while describing her views on the burqa in her autobiography ‘Daughter of the East’ wrote

“My father’s reaction was just as welcome the day my mother covered me in a burqa for the first time. We had been on the train from Karachi to Larkana when my mother took the black, gauzy cloth out of her bag and draped it over me. ‘Pinkie(Benazir’s pet name) wore her burqa for the first time today,’ my mother told my father when we reached Al Murtaza. There was a long pause. ‘She doesn’t need to wear it,’ my father finally said. ‘ The Prophet himself said that the best veil is the veil of the eyes. Let her be judged by her character and her mind, not by her clothing.’ And I became the first Bhutto woman to 
be released from a life spent in perpetual twilight.”

For a moment let us not take it as a Muslim verses non Muslim debate. Let us take it as a feminist issue. Would any community today want it’s one half to be these obscure, faceless, shapeless black blobs of enigmatic mystery? And for what purpose? So that the other half does not transgress it’s sanctity? We have these debates on in India, too. How women should dress and what is Bharatiya sanskriti. Many states recently wanted to ban jeans from colleges. Is this the only way we can think of maintaining the safety of women in our society?

In Western society, Feminism as a term was first used after the First International Women’s Conference in Paris in 1892. Derived from the French féministe, it meant a belief in and advocacy of equal rights for women based on the idea of the equality of the sexes.

The second wave exemplified by Betty Freidan’s 1963 bestseller ‘The Feminine Mystique’, was more intellectual, sombre in its emotional tone, reformist in its goals and overwhelmingly white in terms of its most visible spokeswomen. In this wave, feminists pushed beyond the early quest for political rights to fight for greater equality across the board, e.g., in  education, the workplace and at home, laws against domestic violence and reproductive rights.

But the movement often saw men and not sex discrimination as the enemy, viewing domesticity and family life as a drudgery rather than a potential source of pleasure for both the sexes. It goes without saying that a movement that dubbed men as the enemy could never even take off in the conservative societies of Asia where women were expected to walk two steps behind, leave alone locking horns with their men.

However Eastern societies have not been living in a vacuum either. We have had our own traditions and norms for safeguarding the well being of women. Islam prohibited the killing of girls and gave women the right to divorce, child custody, alimony, and inheritance long before Western societies adopted 
these principles.

So today it is not upto the figure heads of the Western world but upto each man in the Muslim world to take that significant step towards modernisation and logic. To release their women from the shackles of oblivion and obscurity. Of course, women in conservative societies of Asia have to be strong and enlightened enough to decide for themselves how much freedom is right for them. Each one of us has to coerce, cajole and extract from our habitat the optimum level of freedom required to evolve and flower to our true potential.

The key here is to evolve. If we go purely by tradition, then many of our traditional customs included sati, child marriage, illiteracy amongst females, chastity belts, dowry, ostracising of widows and female foeticide. But it is for us to strive to move away from these ills, step by step, consciously and deliberately. There is no salvation in clinging on to outdated customs that have lost their relevance long ago.

We need to remove the cobwebs of our minds and the mental burqas that restrain. The burqas of social conditioning, the centuries of diktats that tell us what we can do and what we can not do.

Of Wars, Soldiers and Gentlemen - Shivani Mohan (ISSUES) / Khaleej Times17 May 2009

The trilateral talks between the United States, Pakistan and Afghanistan in Washington recently ended with a renewed avowal to obliterate terror networks. Pakistan has shown concrete steps on ground destroying the Taleban headquarters in Swat, a move that should be lauded internationally. The Pakistani Army is fighting one of its toughest internal wars ever. Fighting one’s own people is in no way easier than fighting conventional wars. There is the unseen specter of civilian casualties to be dealt with. The US drone attacks in many regions of Pakistan have killed more than 700 innocent civilians. Drone attacks bring about visions of a huge disinfectant pump, flying in the air, emotionless and sterile; ruthlessly eliminating colonies of ants and cockroaches below. But people are not insects. In Afghanistan almost 2000 people have perished due to US led attacks last year. The UNHCR has estimated that almost a million civilians are going to be displaced in this operation. To add to this humanitarian crisis, President Obama announced that 20,000 more troops are going to be deployed in Afghanistan. One wonders what happens to the power dynamics of an already disturbed region when such a large number of armed men are further pumped into it. China is one country that has categorically expressed concern over such a large American military presence in the region. So what would these additional 20,000 troops bring to the region? More death and destruction. War after all is so ugly and sordid. Imtiaz Dharker, a Pakistan born poet married to an Indian, puts it so beautifully in the poem ‘Battle-line’ from her book ‘Purdah.’ She speaks here of a marriage, though her imagery is that of a war. It could almost be evocative of the mis-marriage India and Pakistan have shared for years: Did you expect dignity? All you see is bodies Crumpled carelessly, and thrown away The arms and legs are never arranged Heroically….. ….the body becomes a territory shifting across uneasy sheet…. These two countries lie Hunched against each other distrustful lovers who have fought bitterly and turned their backs…. But has India tuned its back? Are we immune to what’s happening there? No. India may be preoccupied with the elections right now but we welcome the proactive measures taken by Pakistan. Better late than never. A safe Pakistan definitely means a safe India and the region. And even though our soldiers have mostly fought against each other, India appreciates what the Pakistani Army is doing today to rid the region and the world of its biggest threat. At the same time, no matter which country they belong to, soldiers are people-human and fallible. I have grown surrounded by soldiers all my life— my father, husband, father-in-law and a maternal uncle are all army officers — and have had the privilege of seeing their loving, nurturing sides. I have known army men who sing, dance and make merry, who cook a mean curry and start spewing poetry after the third drink. Men who are gallant and chivalrous, who open doors and offer chairs to ladies. Men who have cried over a break-up; and wept bitterly the day they got their first ‘kill.’ It is difficult for me to perceive how ruthless these men would have been in battle situations. I have known them as gentlemen. Would they be capable of cold-blooded killing? Would they cease to be chivalrous the moment they enter a ‘war zone?’ Could they gouge another human clinically, not flinching as he lay dead, oozing blood? Of course, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I am not saying that soldiers should give up their guns and become artists or poets. But I am sure being in touch with their feminine sides, makes better soldiers and gentlemen out of them. I know that ‘courage under fire’ is important. But so is ‘grace under fire.’ One of my most avid readers is Munir Ishrat, a retired Colonel from the Pakistani Army. Here’s something that he once wrote to me. “I want to share a thought with you because you belong to a family that knows well the pros and cons of wars. I, too, have fought two wars – 1965 and 1971 – as an officer of the Pakistan Army. I would like to tell you that very few of the soldiers who have fought wars really like war. War is not a good thing. This is true. And I am sure even on your side of the fence the hatred against war will be no less. Soldiers fight wars because they have to respond to their call of duty. Defending their country’s honour and sovereignty is their primary job — irrespective of the nation or the country they belong to. But they are human beings, too. Let me quote an incident of 1965 War. I was a young officer and part of a force that had captured some Indian territory on the night of 6th September following the Indian forces attack in Lahore Sector earlier in the day. We found on the next morning that everyone had left the nearby village, leaving behind three old inmates — two men and a woman. They had somehow survived the shelling and fighting of the previous night and had to stay back due to their old age. You may not believe it but our troops looked after the three old people very properly for the rest of the period of the War. I myself used to fill their buckets with water from a hand pump and carry it to their homes during the lull in shelling. They were to us fellow human beings and not just Indian citizens! No body thought of harming them. The feelings on their faces when they were being handed over to the Indian officials after the ceasefire told a lot about their gratitude.” I know Munir is a thorough gentleman. I only wish that a majority of the troops deployed in the Afghanistan-Pakistan border are the kind of gentlemen that I have known army men to be. But drones are something else. They are not even in touch with their human sides. Drone attacks are not manned by fathers, brothers, sons and uncles. Drones would not know these things even in a million years. Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer. She can be reached at  smshivanimohan@gmail.com

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The Nano and the No-no of Today- Shivani Mohan (Issues) / Khaleej Times 28 April 2009

Last month witnessed the unveiling of two small wonders in India. One has been revving its engine and kicking up a storm for quite some time.

The other, too, was seen firing on all cylinders. One is the snub-nosed small car Nano that has captured the fancy of a country of a billion people. The other ‘nano’ is the podgy young politician, Varun Gandhi who has invited the ire of modern Indians with his blasphemous remarks.

Nano means small in Gujarati, the language spoken by the forefathers of Ratan Tata, the chairman of the Tata group. In Gujarat, it is normal to hear a young one or the smallest child of the house being referred to as ‘nano’. Therefore it would not be out of turn to call Varun Gandhi the ‘nano’ of Indian politics. The Nano car is set to revolutionise the automobile industry with its promise of a decent and affordable means of personal transportation. It could soon prove to be the realisation of the dream of countless Indians who make both ends meet with sweat and toil-yes, all those teaming slumdogs who may never really be millionaires —  of owning a mean machine on four wheels. With the kind of response the Nano bookings are showing, the sales of the car will be anything but small. 

In English the prefix ‘nano’ is derived from the Greek ‘nanos’ which 
means a dwarf.

The other ‘nano’, the otherwise tall and well-built Varun Gandhi was seen in a series of infamous rallies aimed at swaying the Hindu fanatic vote, in his loose boxy kurtas uttering things that sounded like Greek to many Indians. His was, indeed, the sort of catastrophic launch that goes crash boom bang even before it reaches a milestone of any kind. What he did manage to display with great success was that he is still a political midget, no matter what his familial credentials. 

After all Varun comes from the legendary Nehru-Gandhi Dynasty that does not need any introduction in Indian politics. The family has dominated the political landscape of India for decades. Similarly, the Nano comes from the formidable Tata stables, a 
conglomerate that has been instrumental in laying the foundation stone of corporate India.

The Nano uses the oldest marketing trick known to mankind, that of offering a product cheapest amongst its competitors. The other nano, Varun Gandhi unfortunately used the cheapest trick known to politicians, that of raking up age-old religious differences to market himself into the masses. 

Both the Nano and the ‘nano’ invoked the wrath of two firebrand lady politicians, known more for their public rhetoric than any palpable political feats. The Nano was driven out of Singur by the fiery lady Mamta Banerjee for reasons best known to her. The ‘other nano’ was arrested at the behest of the firebrand lady Mayawati. The Nano was then given safe passage by Narendra Modi in Gujarat. The ‘other 
nano’ is being given a clean chit by Advani topped with the ridiculous comparison that Varun reminds him of a young Vajpayee.  

Tha Nano was an idea that emerged from the vision of the chairman of the Tata group, Ratan Tata. He has claimed in various interviews that he used to feel pained to see families of four or more perched precariously on top of a humble scooter navigating the pot-holed roads of Mumbai in the rainy season. He dreamt of providing a cheap, affordable car to the masses of India. 

It is difficult to understand from where does Varun inherit the venom he spewed in his speeches. How can a young man who has a privileged background and has been educated in the best of schools and colleges harbour such regressive thoughts? If he thought that he could play that tiresome card of partisan politics and get away with it, he was absolutely wrong. Fortunately India is in no mood to give free rides to these dubious five-year-hitchhikers this time. When Indians look at the fraternity of politicians with contempt and derision, there is a ray of hope in the younger set entering the fray —  Omar Abdullah, Milind Deora, Sachin Pilot, Naveen Jindal, Jyotiraditya Sindhia and Priya Dutt. We expect the new breed 
of politicians to liberate and not smother our choices. 

Varun Gandhi has ended up proving to be the enfant terrible of Indian politics, not the kind of launch his mother, the other bahu (daughter-in-law) Menaka Gandhi would have envisaged for him. Moreover, his shenanigans have had the opposite effect, that of making cousin Rahul Gandhi look shades better. It was only after Varun’s fiasco, that some voices in the Congress started promoting Rahul as a possible prime ministerial candidate. No one understands the adage —  ‘make hay while the ‘son’ shines —  better than Indian politicians. But many would still bet for the mellow and mild-mannered Manmohan Singh no matter how many trips he makes to 10 Janpath, as long as he takes mature decisions.

Meanwhile, the Supreme Court has released Varun with an undertaking for good behaviour in future. One got to see a new, improved and hopefully chastened Varun stepping out of jail. The BJP, keeping the larger interests of the party and the consensus of the general public in mind, has announced that he may campaign for them but he will not get a ticket from Pilibhit this time.

At the end of the day in a vast and secular country like India, with its values firmly rooted in democracy, it does not matter how big or small an idea is. It is the good or bad intent behind that idea that finally decides its success or doom.

Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer. She can be reached
 at smshivanimohan@gmail.com

Looking at the Chinks in Our Armour Shivani Mohan (INDIA) / Khaleej Times17 February 2009

Well it’s not something I am extremely proud of. But I recently indulged in a bit of online sparring with a bunch of Pakistani youngsters on a page with a funny name. That this page created by Pakistani youth is dedicated to the worthy president of Pakistan set the mood for the kind of discussion we were about to have. It was debating school style-petty, petulant and anything but propah. The page had explicit, tongue-in-cheek illustrations of Asif Ali Zardari being compared to an assortment of comical characters; and dubbed a murderer, American sycophant and Sarah Palin’s lover amongst other things.  I stepped into the discussion assuming a higher moral ground. We the secular, stable democracy recently wronged by rogue elements from their country. I was shocked to see teenagers in Pakistan well versed with each and every India Pakistan pact-and breach of it —  since 1947. The emphasis they still attach to our age old differences was evident. If you ask an average Indian teenager about any of these issues, chances are he would draw a blank. And I am glad he does. Because youngsters in India are busy with the things they ought to be worrying about —  his next date, his iPod, his next snazzy pair of jeans or his career. But the way these youngsters were obsessed about India suggested that they seriously needed to go get a life.  They claimed that there are reports that many Taleban found dead or captured in FATA are actually turning out to be Sikhs in disguise. It showed the effect a bad, malicious media can have on young impressionable minds. I jested how this was indeed a very imaginative story and maybe Akshay Kumar should think of an end to his trilogy of disastrous movies —  Singh is Kking and Chandni Chowk to China —  with a befitting ‘Sardar in Kandahaar!’  But jokes apart, many of these Pakistani youngsters seemed stuck in a time warp. They had all our pre-independence princely states on their fingertips. They felt that besides Kashmir many other parts of India such as Junagarh, Hyderabad, most of North East and even Goa were not ethically part of India because they were Muslim or Christian-dominated. I defined secularism for their benefit, educating them on how so many religions had over centuries been openly embraced and welcomed by India. And that the pluralist nature of our society was our biggest USP! They spoke of the plight of the Indian Muslims. I retorted that a series of Khans have ruled our hearts for far too long for that argument to hold any weightage. We are extremely proud of our Azim Premjis, A R Rehmans, Javed Akhtars, M J Akbars, Sania Mirzas and Irfaan Pathans. We have had three Muslim presidents. And that Indian Muslims did not need their false mollycoddling and a pan-Islamic friendship that had little to do with actual empathy but meant more to harm the core of our secular roots.  They said that India was a country of slums and call centres. I said we were not too proud of our slums, though afterSlumdog Millionaire, even that aspect stands changed somewhat. And that working in call centres was better than becoming Fidayeen and hating almost every progressive idea under the sun.  And also that call centres happened to be just one of our booming industries that have made us the fourth largest economy in the world. They spoke of why Mumbai had become such an issue when Pakistan was itself a victim of terror. I asked then why did they need a wake up call as big as 26/11 to do something about it? And they still have the gall to ask us for evidence?  But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for a generation of youth totally shaken by the gravity of affairs in their country. I could sense their angst. In an absence of role models of any kind, they employ their youthful energies in India-bashing. Their anger against India and the world at large, acting as an opiate, providing them a flimsy raison d’etre. If this is the state of an educated youth with access to Internet, one can only shudder to think of the extent of this malaise in the hinterland of little dusty towns stricken with poverty. While a lot needs to be done in Pakistan to change all of this, we in India too have a job ahead.  Okay, so here’s the thing. Three points from them drew a blank from my side —  Modi, Sadhvi Pragya and Col Purohit.  The sad truth is that when we breathe down their neck about the Lakhvis and the Masoods of the world, they name these three people in the same breath. I know that we cannot equate one bad apple called Colonel Purohit in a ten million strong secular force with decades of active role that the Pakistan Army and ISI have played in patronising the growth of terror networks in Pakistan. But unfortunately that is what is happening. Even one Purohit or Sadhvi Pragya makes our contentions about being a great secular nation weaker.   Which brings me to the utter horror of watching India’s corporate czars nominate Narendra Modi as the perfect prime minister material at a prestigious forum recently. The whole spectacle gave nightmares to many Indians apart from a certain Advani. Given his global image, we cannot even dream of Narendra Modi as a possible figurehead.   We have entered the 60th year of the formation of our republic —  an election year at that. Let us ensure that the people who lead our country embody the secular ethos that were the foundation stones of our democracy. That no minority in India ever feels marginalised either through our policies or our actions —  overt or covert. That we shun all Godmen who preach hatred in the name of religion. That the Indian Army ensures through stringent measures that not a single Col Purohit emerges from its folds again.   We have had three Muslim Presidents but are still far away from the day where we can have a Muslim Prime Minister. But something about the winds of change — Obama —  makes it seem we will reach there some day. And yes, all this to prove our love for India. The very idea of India. We owe this to ourselves. And not just to dominate silly arguments on weird Pakistani web pages with obscene names. Shivani Mohan is an India-based writer. She can be reached  at smshivanimohan@gmail.com

Kashmir — A New Path Away from Insurgency and Independence- Shivani Mohan (INDIA) / Khaleej Times 27 January 2009

In recent times there has been quite a lot of criticism of the ‘war on terror’. The tenor and intensity of these critiques increased as the date of President Bush’s ouster came closer.

 So we all know by now that the war on terror was all wrong, the most recent proponent of this belief being the British Foreign Secretary David Miliband.

The move by President Obama to order the closure of Guantanamo Bay on his first day in office is a huge leap in this direction. Everyone is speaking of debilitating terrorism at the roots. But nobody has really shown a viable alternative. So is there really a win-win module when it comes to fighting terrorism? Firstly, terrorism in a particular country is best understood and handled by the law-enforcement agencies of that country, with a given that the agencies are empowered and envisioned enough to do so.

The manner in which the US has stormed into Iraq and Afghanistan and set up bases in Pakistan for the last seven years reeks too much of a modern day colonialism that is best discouraged as far as possible. While Miliband’s views in the larger scheme of things are welcome, his comments on Kashmir left many in India rather sore. They betrayed a certain ignorance and insensitivity to the restraint exhibited by India in this state for years, a restraint that has started to bear fruits finally. The recent turnout in the Jammu & Kashmir elections and the appointment of Omar Abdullah as the Chief Minister augurs well for the state. Perhaps, there is some learning from Kashmir that can be tried at a macro level across the globe.

India has had a difficult task at hands when dealing with insurgency in Kashmir. For years the Indian Army has handled rampant infiltration, hostility and arson in the manner they were best equipped with. They have been lauded at times and criticised at others. Praised for bringing some semblance of order in a trouble-torn state, bringing down terrorist activities considerably. Criticised for human rights violations, excesses and instances of misplaced suspicion and rounding up of innocent people in the name of counter insurgency operations. But when we talk of human rights we must realise that in highly charged atmospheres, things you never imagined do take place. The ground realities are rather stark and simple. They are ruled by self preservation in its most naked form.

The hallmark of all separatist and terrorist movements anywhere in the world is the breeding of antagonist feelings-some real, some imagined — amongst the people by agencies who have their own motives. But over the years, the Indian Army in Kashmir has realised that the conflict here is definitely not an ‘us verses them’ scenario. Counter-insurgency operations in many ways are much more complicated than conventional warfare. In the olden times, wars used to begin and end within 15-20 days. Counter-insurgency operations in Kashmir have been on for over 20 years. In conventional wars, you had to just blindly aim at the enemy and shoot in that direction. But here there is no tangible enemy. It is your own people that you are fighting. You cannot annihilate them all and create a new state.

No matter how beautiful the land, without the people of Kashmir, there will be no Kashmir. The people of J&K originally comprised of a fine cultural mix of Kashmiri Pundits, Muslims, Dogras from Jammu, Ladakhis and Gujjars. A sizeable amount of the non-Muslim communities have been displaced from Kashmir over the years. The once landed gentry of Kashmir, the Kashmiri pundits were forced to flee and live in concentration camp like settlements in Delhi, from where they went on to a slow, stunted rehabilitation. Squalid and scanty as their living conditions were, they still preferred them to the violence and insecurity of living in Kashmir. None seems to talk of them as the people of Kashmir anymore. But is it right?

There is no denying that today the predominant Muslim populace of Kashmir has some emotional, cultural and spiritual ties with the people across the border. The Indian Army realised long ago that it is important to win the hearts of the people of Kashmir and get them on their side. All this is easier said than done. Trusting a person who was out to get you till a few months ago and including him in your daily routines requires not only immense courage and magnanimity but a definite departure from myopic world views. Many of these misguided youths had taken to the path of destruction not just for religious reasons but abject poverty as with the drastic drop in tourism over the years, the means of livelihood of the people of this picturesque state had disappeared. The young men of Kashmir were lured by terrorist outfits with the promise of a neat packet of money for their families even if they annihilated themselves in yet another fidayeen attack or an encounter. Now these young men are productively employed and given a nominal salary. The people of Kashmir have realised that all those uninvited guests who have come here for the last two decades forging a bogus bond based on religion and selling them a warped concept of jihad have only helped them in turning this beautiful state into a living hell. They have not upheld any cause other than throwing them into an abyss of poverty and backwardness. What the people of Kashmir want today are not guns and grenades, but schools, jobs and dignity.

There is also the question of governments across the globe postponing path-breaking solutions to political problems forever, to suit their selfish agendas. If lobbies are talking of the human rights of terrorists and hostile populations that chose to betray their countries, it is time we spoke of the human rights of a soldier. A soldier is human too.

And by that argument he too has some human rights. In times to come it will get more and more difficult to justify senseless aggression not just to civilians but even to soldiers.

Army can no more continue to be just a means of indiscreet destruction of hostile forces. But like the age-old Indian holy trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, the Army in today’s times has to be a triple force —  the creator of goodwill, the sustainer of life and livelihood and the destructor of unwanted elements, if need be.

Till the time we can hope to reach that near utopian world where armies are redundant —  and here’s wishing for that day too —  this is a good enough model to follow.