[Reader-list] Jaipur etc.

[S. Jabbar]

A couple of pieces in the Indian Express this morning well worth reading.
The first, an elegant understanding of the bomb blasts in Jaipur.  The
second, a report of a former militant who switched sides.  Putting aside the
enthusiasm of the reporter, what emerges is the complexities of lives lived
in the vortex of a dirty war‹ precisely what I was trying to indicate in my
posts about the renegades before it degenerated into unrelated and
unwarranted accusations.
-sj


The geometry of contrasts

Pratap Bhanu Mehta



The old city of Jaipur has a unique physical layout, emblematic of gentle
order. But unlike many cities with neatly planned parallel streets, there is
nothing monumental or contrived about this planned city. Quite the opposite:
it suggested an intimacy that was never claustrophobic, as old cities can
sometimes be. While traditional in its architecture, it facilitated that
most vital of activities: commerce. It has reeled under the onslaught of the
frenetic pace of activity that characterises so many Indian cities. The old
city contained within it everything: the most bustling of religious
activity, whether it be the Id namaz outside Johari Bazaar, or the
astonishing array of temples; the fascination with the most worldly of
possessions, gold and jewellery, alongside the most ardent symbols of
renunciation, Jain temples; and it contained all that any modern city brings
with change. The famous Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandar, near a blast site, had
long since changed over from a font of traditional delicacies to a modern
mass production outlet, leading some to wonder if Jaipur would retain its
character. It had its share of social negotiations and hierarchies. But
despite very occasional stresses, the city always triumphed, as if its
layout would enjoin its citizens to believe that in the well-ordered city,
there will be space for everyone. Its orderly pink structures were always
there for an odd kind reassurance: no matter how bristling and chaotic the
life of the city, order and grace were still always possible.

Alas, that reassurance has been irrevocably shattered by a series of bomb
blasts, by an ideology that is the opposite of what the city stood for. The
blasts are against commerce, against civic order, against aesthetic
achievement, against sociability, against the idea that cities can be zones
where we can overcome our vulnerabilities. But it is above all an attack
against the state and people. An attack against the state, because it dares
to say to the state: you claim to protect people, see what mockery we make
of that claim. An attack against the people because it dares to say to them:
we will take away the sense of security that is the precondition for the
forms of sociability that make us a people. You thought this was a space
where you would exchange goods, say your prayer, read your namaz, savour the
delicacies, make a living, imagine other worlds through craft, fly your
kites, shop to high heaven or even have the dignity of labouring, no matter
how hard the work. You thought it were these quotidian activities that
create the capillaries that connect us. Think again. The very site of these
activities will now be the source of your vulnerability.

The lives that have been destroyed by this attack already constitute an
immeasurable loss. But terrorism is not just after lives, it is after the
idea of a normal life itself. In some ways an attack like this is a classic
combination of nihilism and opportunism. It is nihilism, because it serves
no political end but the idea of destruction itself. We can always surmise
that there are accumulated grievances, forms of alienation, the desire for
revenge of some real or imagined injury, that cause such mayhem. But truth
be told, such surmises are more our attempt to hold on to a sense of
reality. How can we make sense of this so-called political act, where no one
claims responsibility, where the cause is unclear, where there is not even
the attempt to claim minimal moral legitimation for the act just
perpetrated?

Particular acts of terrorism may be explained, but there is no doubt that it
has also acquired a sui generis character: it does not exist for any reason
outside itself. Yes, we can say that its objective is to weaken India. But
though this may be the case, this raises more questions than it answers.
What politics of cowardice and resentment drives that objective? What is
worrying in the Jaipur blasts is the fact that it must have taken more than
a couple of people to put this operation together, to engineer blasts in
quick succession. The fact that such an operation can be mounted with
impunity ought to be worrying for security forces.

But it is not hard to discern an element of opportunism in the choice of
targets. Rajasthan is going to elections, places like Chittor have had a
simmering communal dispute. It would be otiose to deny that the delicate
social equilibrium that Jaipur had crafted over decades has been fraying at
the edges for a while. The terrorists are hoping, as they were elsewhere in
Hyderabad and Varanasi and Ajmer, that Rajasthan might prove combustible
material. Or it may have something to do with developments in the domestic
politics of Pakistan, to strengthen the hands of those that do not want to
give peace a chance. Or as is so much the case with terrorism, it may all be
over-determined.

Civilians are terrorised precisely so that, under the pressure of responding
to their outrage, the state commits sins of commission and omission. There
is a danger that this issue will get politicised in the wrong sense of the
term. It is high time that we created institutions, cutting across party
lines that can interface with the state and security agencies so that a
proper and shared understanding can be evolved of this menace. Our ability
to tackle terrorism is not enhanced by a politics of grandstanding by any
party. It requires a supple intelligence and clarity of purpose. The point
of terrorism is that it wants to take our politics in certain directions. It
is up to our political class to resist that temptation.

But Jaipur has, for the moment at least, become a symbol of our
vulnerability, rather than an emblem of a safe civic life. The gates of
Tripolia don¹t protect it, its famous squares, the chaupads, will not be the
site of easy sociability for some time to come. It was Jaipur¹s unique fate
that for a long time it had not really experienced any serious stress in the
old city. But for now its intimate reassurance and bustle are gone. Jaipur
was famous for having an MP whose sole claim to political fame was that he
attended as many funerals in the city as he could. Yesterday, funerals were
the only activity allowed in large parts of the city. But if Jaipur recovers
the sense that its founders had, of a city as a civilising place, it will be
the source of resistance to the new barbarians that sought to replace its
geometry with chaos.

The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, Delhi





ŒHe wanted a life and death of dignity... He got both¹

Raghvendra Rao


NEW DELHI, MAY 14
³Woh hamesha kehta tha ki mujhe izzat ki zindagi aur izzat ki maut chahiye.
Humein sukoon hai ki usey dono miley. (He always wanted a life and death of
dignity. We are happy that he got both).²

It's difficult to miss the sense of pride in Gulshan Akhtar¹s voice as she
speaks about her slain husband Rifleman Abdul Hamid Chara, the
militant-turned-soldier who joined the Indian Army and laid down his life
eliminating terrorists in Jammu and Kashmir. On Wednesday, Gulshan received
from the President of India the Shaurya Chakra, the country¹s third highest
peacetime gallantry award, given posthumously to her husband.

On her first visit to New Delhi, Gulshan struggled to hide her emotions. ³He
used to narrate stories about Delhi. He would say one day he will take me to
see the India Gate. Par woh pehle hi chala gaya (but he died early),² she
said, clinging to her 9-month-old daughter Hamida. ³Anyway, I am going to
see the India Gate.²

Christened after Param Vir Chakra awardee Abdul Hamid Khan, Adbul Hamid
Chara's life took a tumultuous turn when he was kidnapped by Al-Barq
terrorists in 2001 and forced to join the outfit. ³My brother was not a
terrorist. He never wanted to be one. Having stayed with the terrorists who
had kidnapped him for almost a week, he escaped and surrendered before the
police,² recounted Dariaz Ahmad Chara, Abdul¹s brother.

Having surrendered, Abdul worked with the Special Group (SOG) of J&K Police.
It was in October 2004 that Abdul joined the 62 Infantry Battalion (TA) and
was posted with Divar (markul) Company of 18 Rashtriya Rifles Battalion. On
June 12 last year, Hamid was a part of the search-and-destroy operation in
Ander Nar area of Gagal in Kupwara. Having spotted two terrorists who were
trying to escape, Abdul allowed them to come within five meters as he
crawled under dense undergrowth of vegetation to cut off their escape route.
This caused retaliatory fire from the other side, causing Abdul Hamid
multiple gunshot and splinter injuries. But the rifleman continued to fight
and killed one terrorist who was later identified as Mussa, the self-styled
District Commander of the LeT, Kupwara, in charge of coordinating all
activities and management of the LeT.