Blood on their lenses
Though full details of the accident in which Princess Diana, her Egyptian lover and the chauffeur met their deaths in a tunnel are still to be revealed, the Paris police have detained seven press photographers who were chasing her car, and may slap charges of manslaughter on them. However, one thing is quite clear—they had been hounding her ever since her marriage to Prince Charles began to break up. The more she made news because of her love affairs, the hotter became their pursuit. They prowled round her hotel, hired boats to get close to her yacht and followed her car wherever it went. She could not elude them. She was sick and tired of them, and would have wished them dead. The irony of the tragedy is that it was not she who killed them, but they who killed her.
Many celebrities, past and present, have been similarly hounded by press photographers, but none with such savage determination as Princess Diana. Many things contributed to making her the prime target of public voyeurism. She was beautiful, she was a blue-blooded royal, she was utterly candid and kept no secrets. It proved to be a lethal combination of virtues. I do not think there will be another case of homicide by over-exposure for quite some time to come.
Are we in India, in danger of similar kinds of intrusions into the private lives of celebrities? Our film stars are already exposed to this hazard. When they start their careers, they invite publicity. Actresses on the make display their physical assets and enjoy their names being linked with male stars. After they succeed in making the grade, they become very coy. They have no right to complain against press photographers. It is different for politicians and social workers who are in the public eye. Their public life is public property and open to scrutiny of media persons including photographers. Their private lives are not. Though we know many have lady friends and mistresses, as long as it is not reflected in their public conduct in the way of extending patronage to them at public expense, it is strictly their own business. Leave that part of their lives alone.
Book buying
Over a lifetime of buying books in different cities, I have come to the conclusion that it is not the number of books, the air-conditioning or piped music that draws customers towards one bookstore in preference to another, but the personality of the proprietor or the one who attends to customers. Since clients ask for guidance in selecting the best book available on a particular subject, there has to be someone on the staff to help them. But most like to be left alone to browse around and pick up what they want. The proprietor can safely assume that browsers know more about books than him and seek their advice about what he should order from publishers.
In Lahore I used to visit Rama Krishna regularly. Though the proprietor was ill-tempered and quarrelsome, I had no choice as it was the only bookstore in the city. In Chennai, Higginbothams is the largest bookstore. For the years that Prema Subramaniam worked as sales assistant, book buyers flocked to the store because of her. She was well-read and ever-smiling. Today, she continues to smile and sell books for Barnes and Noble in New York. In Pune it was Manneys. In Bombay it was The Strand—small, congested jand uncomfortable, but the top favourite of book buyers because the proprietor was knowledgeable and courteous. In Ludhiana it is Lyall, owned by Sunder Dass.
In Delhi I used to visit many bookstores. But with age I have slowed down and end up in Khan Market which is a few steps away from my home. This small market has six bookstores of which the largest and centrally located, is Bahri and Sons. It has more display windows and books that are not available in other shops. But most of all, it is the owner, Balraj Bahri, who has made it a successful venture. Bahri came from Malakwal (Pakistan) as a refugee. He was a man of modest means and education. He did not have the foggiest notion of book buying or selling. He learnt by trial and error. And by a close rapport with his clientele. This year, the Federation of Indian Publishers conferred on him the Distinguished Bookseller Award. It is well deserved.
13 Sepember 1997
The demolished masjid—and after
There is no question that a crime as heinous as the wanton destruction of a place of worship should be punished. It is an act of villainy and those who perpetrate it should be treated as villains. However, I fear very much that the men and women charged with the demolition of the Babri Masjid will exploit the trial to their advantage and portray themselves as heroes and protectors of the Hindu dharma. My own gut feeling is that they will succeed in doing so, and the whole purpose of bringing them to book will be defeated. Most of those charged made no secret of their involvement in the dastardly deed; many of them have gone on record gloating over what their goondas had done in Ayodhya. There is serious danger of miscarriage of justice because of the inordinate delay in framing charges. We know that in our country the police and the judiciary move at snail’s pace and trials for murders may take as long as ten years or more. But more alacrity could and should have been shown in handling the Babri Masjid affair. As a matter of fact, there was no reason why all those who had instigated the destruction of the mosque were not apprehended immediately and brought to trial. They had made many speeches preaching hatred between the two communities: no more evidence was needed to ensure their conviction. Now as things go in our country, a trial against forty-nine accused can be prolonged by months and years. By the time appeals to High Courts and the Supreme Court are concluded, some of the accused may be dead.
Meanwhile, the accused are bound to go round the country extolling their deeds and to get political mileage. It is incumbent on the media and our countrymen to strongly countenance such propaganda. By breaking that one derelict mosque, they have disgraced the fair name of Hinduism so rightly proud of its tradition of tolerance. They must not be allowed to get away with this kind of vandalism.
27 September 1997
Morning blues
There was a time when I rose very early at the ambrosial hour (amritvela) to start the day with prayer. That was over half a century ago. Then I came to the conclusion that prayer did no one any good (even goondas and politicians pray for success) and I could use the same time more fruitfully than waste it mumbling hymns in praise of the Almighty. So, though I continue to rise very early, I begin my day reading the morning paper which is delivered to me at 4.30 a.m. Then I watch news on TV. There are quite a few channels to choose from: Zee, BBC, CNN, Doordarshan and Star. With dawn and the cawing of crows, I am saturated with knowledge of what is going on in my country and the world. Last few mornings I have also been watching interviews with party leaders and proceedings at the two houses of Parliament.
Now I conclude that even if prayer does not do much good to anyone, at least it is not depressing. Reading newspapers and watching TV leaves me in a black mood for the rest of the day. Watching the pandemonium created by MPs in the Rajya Sabha when Prime Minister I.K. Gujral presented the Jain Commission report, I concluded that we were not fit for the Western kind of democracy. And hearing Sitaram Kesri’s impassioned plea to Sonia Gandhi to take over the reins of the Congress party (’She and only she can save the party,’ he said thumping the rostrum to loud applause from his partymen), I felt perhaps some form of monarchy would suit us better.
‘Kesriji,’ I said to myself, ‘if you are pinning your hopes on reviving the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty through an Italian-domiciled Indian lady who always had great disdain for politics and threatened to divorce her pilot husband when he reluctantly entered it, you might well have contemplated asking Queen Elizabeth when she visited India, to stay on and give us the kind of government her ancestors had imposed on us.’ If it can be the Turin-born Sonia, why not a blue-blooded Brit named Elizabeth born in London? It is truly pathetic.
I am seriously considering giving up reading newspapers and watching TV altogether and resuming prayer; this time not for myself but for my country.
29 November 1997
The poor have more fun
Shashi Tharoor, author of The Great Indian Novel (a parody inspired by the Mahabharat) and India: From Midnight to the Millennium, works wi
th the UN in New York. He is of the opinion that poorer the nation, the more holidays it has. According to Tharoor’s ‘Holiday Index’, although India is not yet the poorest of the world, it is certainly on top of the list of holiday makers. Our next-door neighbours, Pakistan, China, Burma and Sri Lanka, though marginally better off than us, do not have as many chhuttees as we; nor do Bhutan or Bangladesh which are poorer than us. I think the main reason for their having fewer holidays is that all of them are single-religion states—Islamic, Hindu or Buddhist. Ours is a multi-religious society in which each religious group clamours for national holidays on their festivals. So our supine governments have declared forty-four official holidays, ranging from the secular (like Independence and Republic days) to birthdays of founders of religions, sects and sub-sects. Birthdays of Jain Mahavir, the Buddha, Christ, Prophet Mohammed, Guru Nanak, Guru Gobind Singh, Guru Ravidas and Valmiki are national holidays. We have added Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday to the list.
Being a predominantly Hindu country, Hindu holidays predominate. They include Diwali, Holi, Mahashivratri and Ganesh Chaturthi. Muslims have their three Eids: Eid-e-Milad-un-Nabi (the Prophet’s birthday), Eid-ul-Fitr (the badee Eid following Ramadan) and Eid-ul-Zoha or Bakri Eid. They also have Muharram—a largely Shia festival. Christians have, besides Christmas, Easter and Good Friday. Sikhs, in addition to the two Gurus’ birthdays, have martyrdom anniversaries of their fifth and ninth Gurus as well as Baisakhi. Parsis have their New Year’s Day (Navroz). The list is almost as long as the days in the year.
To start with, we have 104 weekends. Government servants are entitled to annual leave, casual leave, compassionate leave and sick leave (a fake certificate from an amenable medico will do). Then we shut the offices if the boss kicks the bucket. One can always rely on bandhs, strikes and lockouts to add a few more days of no-work. As it is, we have a large population who avoid work altogether—such are our sadhus, godmen and godwomen. Also, men and women who believe that the purpose of life is to achieve peace of mind through prayer or meditation. In fact, we are a bone-lazy nation: religion provides us plenty of excuses to evade work and wallow in idleness. With this attitude towards life, we are never likely to catch up with the advanced nations of the world nor become prosperous. We will remain the authors of our poverty.
20 December 1997
India’s Man of Destiny
There is a general consensus that the man most suited to be the next prime minister of India is Atal Behari Vajpayee. He has been prime minister once but was not given enough time to prove his mettle. The post may still elude him, but most people among whom I count myself, are in agreement that he, more than any other leader deserves to be put back in the saddle. He is clean: no breath of scandal is attached to his name. Being a bachelor, he is not likely to indulge in nepotism nor let his relatives take advantage of his position. If he has any cronies, I have not heard of them. Personally, he is above communal prejudices and has never been known to make statements that may hurt the religious feelings of any community.
He is an able man; a man of letters, a poet and an aesthete well above most of our rabble-rousing politicians of today. He has several collections of poems to his credit—some of them have been set to music. No other prime minister since Nehru (who only wrote in English) can lay claim to a place in Indian literature as can Vajpayee.
Vajpayee is a far-sighted statesman and is not known to compromise his principles for immediate gains. He proved his ability as foreign minister and as member of the Indian delegation to numerous international conferences. And he is the very best orator of Hindi we have heard since Independence. It is a treat to hear him speak: no mob oratory, no rhetoric, only well-reasoned arguments couched in the most elegant prose, pauses at the right places, ending in never-to-be-forgotten punchlines.
Vajpayee is a courteous, polished gentleman who keeps his cool at all times, and is never known to be rude to anyone. In short, he is a most likeable, loveable character.
There is only one minus point in Vajpayee’s curriculum vitae—the political party over which he presides. It is tarnished with anti-Muslim and anti-Christian prejudices. I know for certain that he does not share these prejudices. Soon after the destruction of the Babri Masjid, at a small private gathering, he read out a poem he had composed on his birthday, 25th December. In no uncertain terms it expressed deep anguish over what had happened at Ayodhya and explained his silence through a refrain ‘Have I really become old?’ I could understand the constraints that compelled him to keep his thoughts to himself. But it was evident that he realized that although India is a predominantly Hindu state, it is not a Hindu but a secular state in which religious minorities expect equal treatment. I hope and pray that if and when he does become prime minister of the country—as I expect and pray he will—he will distance himself from men and women who have given Hindutva an ugly image.
27 December 1997
Looking forward to 1998
The past year, our cup of misery was filled to the brim. A lot of good people died and a lot of rotters came out of the cold to grab centrestage. The most depressing event of last year was the Congress party ditching the Government on a flimsy excuse thereby forcing mid-term elections. Its unprincipled action calculated solely by Sitaram Kesri to make a bid for prime ministership encouraged sundry politicians to ditch parties in which they felt they had no future, to look for greener pastures elsewhere. In every case it was gross opportunism. We saw it in Uttar Pradesh, where a group of MLAs of different parties were made ministers of a BJP government en bloc. We lost the little respect we had for these legislators and were disenchanted with the BJP’s assumptions of political morality: when it comes to principles, it is no better than the others.
Then followed a spate of desertions from the Congress, by politicians who sensed that their chances of being re-elected to Parliament were bleak. So they had many nasty things to say about Kesri and much praise for their new-found leaders. To describe them as rats deserting a sinking ship would be grossly defamatory to the rodents. No doubt we will see a lot more of this sort of thing in the next month or two, till the elections are over. There isa good chance of it continuing even afterwards if the electorate does not give a clear verdict in favour of one party. At the moment, this seems unlikely.
However, one has to admit that the only ones who have not sullied their reputation by compromising with their Marxist principles are the Communists. Unfortunately, their presence is limited to just three states—West Bengal, Tripura and Kerala. The prospects of their extending their influence are not very bright.
Will Sonia Gandhi’s entering the political arena make much difference? It would be foolish to hazard a guess because so far she has remained behind the screen as an enigmatic figure. In her favour are her youth, good looks and family charisma. Against her are her foreign origin and her aversion to, and lack of experience in politics. Hanging above her like the sword of Damocles is the Bofors deal in which her late husband’s name is implicated. The BJP spokeswoman has openly proclaimed that these negative points will be highlighted during their election campaign. Sonia will have her first taste of the nastiness of (Indian) politics. I do not think she will be able to stand up to it for too long.
We do not have very much to look forward to this year: a change of government, of course; perforce, a change in the dramatis personae. Change in the character of our leaders? Not likely. All said and done, they are drawn from our midst. And we have become a second-rate people.
Not wanted anywhere
The population of people forced to leave their homes in fear of losing their lives has reached the highest figure recorded in history. The UN Office of the High Commissioner for Refugees in Delhi estimates that it is looking after over twenty-six million men, women and children in 123 countries. I am pretty certain that the total number of refugees is even higher. Take the case of India. We have a long history of people from foreign lands coming to seek asylum and being accommodated. We had Jews who settled largely
in Maharashtra, Kerala and in big cities like Calcutta. We had Parsis fleeing Muslim persecution in Iran. They were welcomed by the rulers of Gujarat and are now settled largely in Mumbai. We had mass migrations of non-Muslims from West and East Pakistan, estimated at over ten million in 1947.
In the 1960s we had over 100,000 Tibetans including the Dalai Lama fleeing Chinese persecution and seeking sanctuary in India. They are still with us. We had more than ten million Hindus fleeing East Pakistan between 1969 and 1970; not all of them returned to Bangladesh. The same happened to the 200,000 Tamils who fled Sri Lanka—100,000 remain in Tamil Nadu. Recently we had 56,000 Chakma tribals migrating from Bangladesh to Tripura—they have been persuaded to return to their homes. We also had Afghans (over 50,000) and similar numbers from Iran, Sudan and Somalia. The UNHCR estimate of foreign refugees living in India today is around 2,75,000.
In addition to all this, we have Indians displaced from one region moving to another. During Bhindranwale’s time and Khalistani terrorism, many Hindus moved their families from the Punjab to Haryana or Delhi. After the anti-Sikh violence following Indira Gandhi’s assassination, several Sikh families settled in other parts of India returned to Punjab. And most recently, thousands of Kashmiri Pandits fled the Valley of Jhelum and migrated to Jammu and other cities in India.
One significant difference between refugees who came to India and refugees in neighbouring countries is that while we were able to rehabilitate and reintegrate them, our neighbours are still having problems in doing so. No one in India uses the word ‘refugee’ for people who are in fact refugees; in Pakistan, Indian Muslims who migrated there fifty years ago are still known as mohajareens, and local Muslims don’t encourage intermarriage with them. Perhaps this is due to our age-old tradition of welcoming people no longer welcome in their own countries. Pakistanis and Bangladeshis have still to open their hearts to people who seek refuge with them.
Big Book of Malice Page 9