As the smoke lifts from Mumbai, skepticism must prevail over those conjectures which support the official state narrative. It is crucial to increase the pressure for transparency and accountability at this moment to ensure that India doesn't slide into the same state as post-9/11 USA.
By Biju Mathew
The deaths continue even as I write this. The death toll stands at 195. And of the several hundred injured some may not survive. It is now official. The siege is over. The last of the gunmen inside the Taj Hotel has been shot dead. The Oberoi/Trident hotel was cleared earlier today and the Nariman House Jewish Center at the corner of Third Pasta Lane on the Colaba Causeway was stormed close to 24 hours ago. The other targets - the Leopold Cafe (a popular tourist hangout), the CST railway terminus (also called the Victoria Terminus), the Metro Cinema, the Cama Hospital, all seem to be targets the gunmen attacked as they zoned in on the hotels and Nariman House. In the end this has become a story of two sets of men with guns.
The human story of the innocents who died, the hotel staff who kept their cool and moved guests around the hotel through the service entryways and exits, those who helped each other escape, will not really make it to the headlines. The maintenance worker at the Oberoi who shielded guests and took the bullets in his stomach will remain unsung. The hospital orderlies who ran in and out with stretchers carrying the wounded - each time not knowing if they will make it back themselves to the ambulance, will not be noted. The several trainee chefs at the Taj who fell to bullets even as other kitchen workers escorted guests away from the firing and hid them inside a private clubroom will not be written up in the book of heroes. The young waiter at Leopold who was to leave to work in a Cape Town restaurant will soon be forgotten. The two young men who dragged an Australian tourist shot in the leg away from the Leopold entrance and carried her to a taxi will not even identify themselves so that she can thank them. These stories, in as much as they are told, will remain on the lips of only the workers, the guests and the tourists who helped each other. The officials will try and produce a clean story to tell the world. And we know the clean story is untrue.
The official story that has already begun to emerge is one that may have some facts embedded in it. But we must remember that between every two facts is a lot of conjecture. The conjectures that unite the few facts (16 gunmen, AK47s, grenades, passports of multiple nationalities, boats on which at least some of them arrived, a dead Anti-Terror Squad (ATS) chief, Hemant Karkare, who was heading the investigation against the Hindu Right wings' terror campaign, the gunmen trying to identify British and American citizens) makes the story. The story then is as much a product of the conjecture as it is of the facts. And there are certain stories that we are already oriented towards. The conjectures that create that story - the story we are already prepared for - is the one the State will dole out for our consumption. Already the conjectures that will serve the State, are out there in great profusion.
Several reporters have noted that the gunmen were clean-shaven, dressed in jeans and T-shirts. The silent conjecture is that they were expecting and were surprised by the fact that these men did not have beards and did not sport the Muslim prayer cap. Every newspaper worth its salt - the Times of India, the Jerusalem Post, the Independent from the UK, among scores of others - have already run commentary on the unsecured coastline of India. The conjectural subtext is that securing the coastline is possible and if India had done so, this attack would have been prevented.
There is also a quick labeling going on -- India's 9/11. The subtext is that India could and should act as the US did after 9/11 - decisively and with great aggression. There is also the subtext that the Indian State is soft on terror that adds to the US-tough-on-terror contrast. Sadanand Dhume, writing in the Wall Street Journal, has castigated the Indian government for withdrawing the Prevention of Terrorism Act (POTA) and for preventing states like Gujarat from passing their own version of the draconian worse-than-Patriot Act legislations. Neither Mr. Dhume, nor the several reporters who will now write stories about how the POTA repeal represents the Indian State�s soft attitude towards terror will ever feel the need to explain how POTA could have prevented this attack.
The dead are on the floor. The vultures are moving in. The conjecture will try to unite the country into a series of unexamined positions. That POTA must be recalled. That States must be allowed to pass even more draconian laws. That Hindu terror is not a big issue and must be forgotten for now - especially now that we may not find an honest policeman or woman to head the ATS. That the defense budget must go up. That the coastline must be secured.
None of the well educated masters of the media will write that the 7000 odd kilometer coastline cannot be protected - that all it will translate to is billions in contracts for all and sundry including Israeli and American consultants. Nobody will write that a hundred POTAs will not prevent a terror attack like this one; that Guantanamo Bay has not yielded a single break through. Nobody will write that higher defense budgets have been more often correlated with insecure and militarized lives for ordinary citizens. Nobody will write that almost without exception all of US post-9/11 policies have been disasters. Bin Laden is still around, I am told and so is the Al Qaeda. The number of fundamentalist Christians, Muslims, Hindus and Jews have probably gone up over the last decade. So much for good policy. But the conjecture will go on.
The foreign hand and its internal partner will be floated without ever naming anything precise. But the country will read it just as it is meant to be read - Pakistan and the Indian Muslim. Everything will rest on the supposed confession of the one gunman who has been captured. A Pakistani from Faridkot, I am told. Why should we believe it? Didn't the same Indian State frame all the supposed accomplices in the Parliament attack case? Didn't the same Indian State claim that the assassins of Chattisinghpura were from across the border until that story fell apart? And more recently, didn't the same Indian State finally agree that all the accused in the Mecca Masjid bombings were actually innocent? And even if Mr. Assassin supposedly from Faridkot did say what he did say - why should we believe him? Why is it so difficult to believe that he has his lines ready and scripted? If he was willing to die for whatever cause he murdered for, then can he not lie? Oh the lie detector test - that completely discredited science that every militarized State trots out. And the media love the lie detector test because it is the best scientific garb you can give to conjecture.
I certainly don't know the truth. But I do know that there is more than enough reason for skepticism. The problem is that we need a new theory of the State. We need to re-understand the State.
There is such unanimity when it comes to analyzing the Pakistani State - that the ISI, and if not all of the ISI, at least a segment of it, is a rogue element Furthermore, that its bosses may not be sitting in Islamabad, but perhaps elsewhere in the country or even abroad. If we can accept that about the Pakistani State, why is it so difficult to accept it about the Indian State? We all know that Colin Powell was a kind of a patsy - a fall guy, who trotted out some lies on behalf of a segment of the neo-conservative movement firmly entrenched within the American State (which Obama will not touch). We also know that if the ISI has a rogue element in it, it was in good part created by the CIA. Then why do we think that the same guys couldn't render another State - such as the US - itself hollow from the inside.
The contemporary State is a different being. For every story of money-corruption you hear, there could just as well be one of political-corruption. Every vested interest who locates himself inside the State apparatus is not just a vested interest going after money but could just as well be securing the space for creating a certain politics. The RSS has a long history of trying to take over the bureaucracy, doesn't it? So do the neo-cons and so do the jamaatis. Then why do we believe in a theory of the State that is unified and with liberal goals?
The history of the liberal State and its relationship with capitalism of all types is a simple one. The longer that relationship persists the more corrupt and hollow the liberal State gets, leaving the space open for political ideologies to occupy its very insides. The logic for this is inherent in the very system. If profit is above all, then given the power the State has, it must be bought. Cheney is no different from Shivraj Patil, and Ambani is no different from Halliburton. They are both part of the story of hollowing the State out. And once the hollowing process begins, every ideological force can find its way in, as long as it has resources. The archetypal bourgeois liberal State is over. It never really existed, but what we have at the end of four decades of neo-liberalism bears no resemblance to the ideal formulation whatsoever. What we have instead is a series of hollowed out States with their nooks and crannies, their departments and offices populated with specific neo-conservative ideological interests. The US has its variant. India has its. And Israel its very own. It is incapable of delivering the truth, and not just the truth, it is only capable of producing lies.
If this story of skepticism makes sense then we have only one choice. To understand that it is crucial to increase the pressure for transparency at this moment, to be relentless in our demand for openness and detail, in our call to ensure that no investigation or inquiry that was in place be halted and that every one of these be subjected to public scrutiny. It is our responsibility to reject the discourse of secrecy based on security and demand specific standards of transparency. What we should demand is that every senior minister and every senior intelligence officer be examined and the records be made available to the public. What we must demand is that an officer of impeccable record be found to replace Hemant Karkare. What we must demand is that we get explanations of how a POTA clone would have stopped this crime. What we must ask is how POTA or the Patriot Act could have ever helped prevent terror? What we must do is support the Karkare family in their demand for a full investigation of his death in the company of the encounter specialist- Salaskar. What we must have is an open debate on every single case of terror over the last decade in India.
When I am in Bombay, I always stay at a friend�s on Third Pasta Lane. Each afternoon I would walk out and see the Nariman House. I have wondered what the decrepit building was. I have always contrasted the drabness of the building with the colorful sign on the next building that announces Colaba Sweet House. The next time I won't wonder. I will know that it was one of the places where the drama that inaugurated India's renewed march towards fascism unfolded. Unless we act. Unless we act with speed and determination demanding transparency and accountability and a careful rewriting of the story of terror in India. Only a renewed movement can ensure that India doesn't slide into the same state as post 9/11 USA.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Farewell to mosquitoes
 |
| Howrah train station, Kolkata |
Today is my last whole day in India, after about 6 weeks. Here is my pretentious post of reflections of what I've learned and experienced during my trip.
1. I haven't seen any Starbucks cafes, anywhere.
2. I haven't seen any street signs, anywhere. Only signs pointing to major highways. I still wonder how drivers navigate.
3. Delhi is a city full of smog. And lots of traffic. But with nice Metro trains.
4. Places like Humayun's tomb, Jama Masjid, and Lal Qila/Red Fort, make you forget that you are in the middle of a huge city, surrounded by 13 million people. I am a fan of Old Delhi.
5. Calcutta/Kolkata is my favourite Indian city.
6. From now on I think I'll just fly straight to Calcutta.
7. Bihar...needs help. Bihar is the most under-developed place I've been in, and the least safe. Before, I used to only see Bihar when I visited India, making me think that Bihar was India. Now I realize, that the rest of India is not like Bihar.
8. Bihar has many issues and faults, but I do actually miss it. I didn't mind the bumpy roads or the dinginess, I got used to it all pretty quickly.
9. India is in transition - but I wonder how much more it will actually change. Here are 2 Indias, out of many - the new, emerging economy of business India, 'new India', full of IT businesses, malls, flashy cars, and expensive clothes. Then there is the rest of India, that just gets left behind. The servant classes, of cleaners, drivers, cooks; the hundreds of millions who cannot read and don't have electricity. A prime example of course, is Bihar/Jharkand, seen to be the dark hole of India. The gap between the two Indias, only gets bigger everyday. India as a new emerging super-economy? Only for some.
10. I stand apart from the locals. The locals can usually tell right away that I've come from abroad. I usually don't care unless I'm buying something, and that's when I try the most to blend in.
11. My Hindi/Urdu has improved slightly since I got here. Same with my comprehension. Back in the States, for some reason a few people think that my Hindi/Urdu is amazing, whereas here, I can tell that it needs a lot of work.
12. India has good Indian food.
13. When I first got here I was very unnerved that were servants in the households I stayed in. What is frightening, is that very quickly, I got used to servants being around - i.e. I stopped thinking about the class inequalities, and just accepted the environment for how it is. It became very easy to brush aside any moral concerns I had regarding servants - I started to imitate a little, what others around me did. For example, while I would still (sometimes) get up from the table and start to put away the food, and then always being told not to, I stopped thinking about how this driver or this cleaning lady might live at home, how much they see their family, and how much they earn. I think this shows how easy it is to get used to the privilege I have here, and I find it very unnerving of how quickly I got used to it.
All in all, I'm very grateful I got to come here after such a long absence. I definitely feel more connected to the place and understand it a lot more. When I see Hindi films now, the locales seem familiar to me. And I can tell that my folks are happy that I came here, and that I'm able to get around without much hassle. I've learned a little bit here and there about Indian politics in my time here, but there's no way I'll ever be able to completely understand the whole context of even one issue. But I'll continue reading.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Obama vs Thackeray
I think he's too hopeful about Obama, but this piece gives a good contrast between what's going on in America and in India politically.
8 Nov 2008, 0010 hrs IST, Jug Suraiya
Perhaps no two politicians could be more dissimilar, not just in stature but, more importantly, in the philosophy they represent, than US president-elect Barack Obama and MNS chief Raj Thackeray. Obama, the black American president, represents what might be called the politics of togetherness; Thackeray personifies the politics of otherness.
In his victory speech, resonant not with triumphalism but with a resolve to overcome the many challenges ahead, Obama made it explicitly clear that he is not a black president, but a president for all Americans; not just a president of the Democratic Party, but for all shades of political opinion, including those who had voted against him.
Expressing his confi-dence that America as a whole would overcome the hard times that it faces, just like the African-American community had spectacularly overcome a history of enslavement and discrimination, Obama consistently stressed the word ‘United’, in the United States of America.
‘United’ was the key word in the pledge he made to the American people on that epochal day. We can do this, said the president-elect; we can do this together. And his enraptured listeners chorused in response: Yes, we can!
How different is this politics of cohesion, of togetherness from the politics of divisiveness, of otherness, that today threatens to balkanise India. Raj Thackeray is only one, though currently the most topical, of India’s all too many practitioners of the politics of otherness.
Raj is merely following in the footsteps of his uncle Bal Thackeray who hinged his politics of otherness on the expulsion from Maharashtra of so-called ‘south
Indian outsiders’; his nephew’s contribution to the politics of otherness has been the substitution of ‘south Indians’ with ‘north Indians’.
It is not just Maharashtra which has fallen prey to the divisive politics of otherness, of devising a feared and loathed ‘other’ in adversarial relation to which one can form one’s own identity based on caste, creed, ethnicity or language.
From Assam and the north-east to Kashmir, from the imminent Andhra-Telangana divide to the symbiotic rise of Islamic and Hindu radicalism in the form of Indian Mujahideen and Abhinav Bharat, the fabric of the Indian republic woven with such care and compassion by the framers of our Constitution seems remorselessly to be unravelling.
Bal and Raj Thackeray are archetypal of the post-independence Indian politician who bettered the British instruction of divide and rule by adopting the tactics of divide and misrule.
As real solutions to real problems — of unemployment, illi-teracy, social and religious prejudice — require hard work and patience to evolve, it’s much easier for the vote-catching politician-in-a-hurry to conjure an imaginary bogey, a scapegoat on which exploited frustration can wreak vengeance.
This self-destructive exercise is doubly efficacious as an electoral gimmick in that it ensures that the targeted vote bank, denied real development, will remain perpetually in thrall to its political puppeteer.
It would be easy to blame our political class for the politics of otherness and divisiveness that increasingly threatens to splinter the country.
But people get the politics, and the politicians, they deserve. If today America has a Barack Obama as its leader, it’s because the citizens of that country have through a long and arduous process of social and political turmoil forged a consensus to breach the barrier of racial inequality.
Today, if the US president-elect can emphasise the ‘United’ in United States, a unity of which he is an embodiment, it is because it is not just the politicians but the people of America who have recognised that even as differences and dissent are the lifeblood and oxygen of any democracy, the stifling of pluralism is its death knell.
And if today there are fears for India’s unity let’s not blame only Raj Thackeray and others like him. All of us who actively or passively helped create the climate of otherness and divisiveness must be held accountable if our republic ever becomes the Disunited States of India.
8 Nov 2008, 0010 hrs IST, Jug Suraiya
Perhaps no two politicians could be more dissimilar, not just in stature but, more importantly, in the philosophy they represent, than US president-elect Barack Obama and MNS chief Raj Thackeray. Obama, the black American president, represents what might be called the politics of togetherness; Thackeray personifies the politics of otherness.
In his victory speech, resonant not with triumphalism but with a resolve to overcome the many challenges ahead, Obama made it explicitly clear that he is not a black president, but a president for all Americans; not just a president of the Democratic Party, but for all shades of political opinion, including those who had voted against him.
Expressing his confi-dence that America as a whole would overcome the hard times that it faces, just like the African-American community had spectacularly overcome a history of enslavement and discrimination, Obama consistently stressed the word ‘United’, in the United States of America.
‘United’ was the key word in the pledge he made to the American people on that epochal day. We can do this, said the president-elect; we can do this together. And his enraptured listeners chorused in response: Yes, we can!
How different is this politics of cohesion, of togetherness from the politics of divisiveness, of otherness, that today threatens to balkanise India. Raj Thackeray is only one, though currently the most topical, of India’s all too many practitioners of the politics of otherness.
Raj is merely following in the footsteps of his uncle Bal Thackeray who hinged his politics of otherness on the expulsion from Maharashtra of so-called ‘south
Indian outsiders’; his nephew’s contribution to the politics of otherness has been the substitution of ‘south Indians’ with ‘north Indians’.
It is not just Maharashtra which has fallen prey to the divisive politics of otherness, of devising a feared and loathed ‘other’ in adversarial relation to which one can form one’s own identity based on caste, creed, ethnicity or language.
From Assam and the north-east to Kashmir, from the imminent Andhra-Telangana divide to the symbiotic rise of Islamic and Hindu radicalism in the form of Indian Mujahideen and Abhinav Bharat, the fabric of the Indian republic woven with such care and compassion by the framers of our Constitution seems remorselessly to be unravelling.
Bal and Raj Thackeray are archetypal of the post-independence Indian politician who bettered the British instruction of divide and rule by adopting the tactics of divide and misrule.
As real solutions to real problems — of unemployment, illi-teracy, social and religious prejudice — require hard work and patience to evolve, it’s much easier for the vote-catching politician-in-a-hurry to conjure an imaginary bogey, a scapegoat on which exploited frustration can wreak vengeance.
This self-destructive exercise is doubly efficacious as an electoral gimmick in that it ensures that the targeted vote bank, denied real development, will remain perpetually in thrall to its political puppeteer.
It would be easy to blame our political class for the politics of otherness and divisiveness that increasingly threatens to splinter the country.
But people get the politics, and the politicians, they deserve. If today America has a Barack Obama as its leader, it’s because the citizens of that country have through a long and arduous process of social and political turmoil forged a consensus to breach the barrier of racial inequality.
Today, if the US president-elect can emphasise the ‘United’ in United States, a unity of which he is an embodiment, it is because it is not just the politicians but the people of America who have recognised that even as differences and dissent are the lifeblood and oxygen of any democracy, the stifling of pluralism is its death knell.
And if today there are fears for India’s unity let’s not blame only Raj Thackeray and others like him. All of us who actively or passively helped create the climate of otherness and divisiveness must be held accountable if our republic ever becomes the Disunited States of India.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Gobi
Hello there. If anyone was actually anticipating me writing in my blog about India, I'm sorry for the delay. I know I've been here over 3 weeks and should have done it sooner. Well I have a lot to talk about, and I'll do it in increments over a few posts.
Clearly, these posts are coming from someone who hasn't been in India in a while. Last time I came here I was 10, now I'm 22. Back then India was pretty different (that's another post altogether). So to Indians reading this, the stuff I'll write about it is not gonna be anything new. These posts are coming from a mindset of a kid of Indian immigrants who has grown up being surrounded by an (not 'the') Indian culture, while only seeing India at a very young age. So when I first got here, there was a huge cultural shock, as I knew there was going to be. I remember my drive from the Delhi airport to my cousin's house - I was curious about every single thing I saw. After a week however, that had drastically subsided, and I had gotten much used to how things look in India, and to how people live here (servants, for example. Another post). And a disclaimer: don't worry, I don't think I'm an expert on India just coz I've been here a few weeks.
First off, I've hardly thought about the U.S. election while here. The only things I've read have been in the Times of India or in the Telegraph, and that's it. It feels great to be disconnected from the insane election, because in the U.S. there was definitely information overload about it. My only comment about the election - if Colin Powell was so great he wouldn't have lied and said that Iraq had WMD. Innit?
Being over here it seems like a lot of things don't matter as much anymore, or at all. I've been feeling pretty disconnected from stuff, which is good in a way, but I think its also dangerous because it can lead to apathy. I'm beginning to understand how easy it is to disengage from everything and just focus on yourself and what's in front of you, and to forget about the outside world. I don't know if any of this has to do with me being in India, or with me just not being at home and not having as much access to gaining information.
Why do I so focus so much on how much information I have access to? I suppose its because I'm a media person and I'm also concerned with media monopolization and the effect it has on us, plus our use of technology is pretty overwhelming if you think about it. All of this adds up to me thinking about how much media I access and how much technology I use on a daily basis.
Anyway those are my reflections for the moment. I've got three funny accounts to tell for now, at least what I find funny, but then again I find a lot of things amusing:
Patna - isolated train station: Our train to Calcutta was around 8:40pm. This was a local train station right next to my uncle's house, so all we did was leave the house and walk a few steps to the station right in front of us. The power had gone out again in the area (this is Bihar), and there were only a few lights on, right in the station, swarming with bugs of course. To cross the bridge to get to the other side we had to face flying masses of these bugs. My bhaji (female cousin) and I tackled the bridge, because I could use my hijab-dupatta and she could use her dupatta, to cover our faces. We ran up, over, and down. I didn't think it was that bad but that's because my arms were covered. Meanwhile my brother, nephew, and other cousin crossed the tracks, something I remembered doing from when I visited India before. We got to the other platform before them and I realized I could have just crossed the tracks as well, the only reason I didn't is because I was wearing sandals (which I've done since I got here), and the railroad tracks have loads of rocks.
Anyway by the time we all headed down to where 2 other guys with our luggage were standing, we were practically in complete darkness. The train announcements kept coming, with the annoyingly loud ding - in Hindi only. I wondered if tourists (Western ones) had ever come to this station, and if so, they would be pretty troubled I reckon, because nothing was in English and there was certainly no station worker. The train was on its way and we knew we only had a minute to get on it - the 5 of us, with our luggage, including 2 big suitcases. The train blasted its awfully loud horn and we got ready, bags in our hands, ready to pounce on the train. Of course, that didn't happen.
The train came, slowed down, and we ran. Instructions were for me, my bhaji, and my nephew to get on first, then my brother and cousin with our luggage. What happened is that the men ran way off because the AC carriage was meters away from where we were standing - we had severely miscalculated where the carriage would stop. The 2 guys with our luggage had to run with the suitcases on their heads - it was pretty funny to watch, but I also felt bad for them at the same time. Especially because one of them was the house driver, so this wasn't his line of work in the first place. So all the men ran way off while my bhaji and I ran, and spotted a door, but then no, don't go in that one go in the next one. More frantic running. Bhaago bhaago bhaago! We jump in, and I stick my head out right away, trying to see if the others got on. I see some figures but its so dark I can barely see anything. I figured we had all got on. Bhaji hears my cousin hollering from another door in the same carriage, and we rush over. Turns out my brother and nephew aren't on the train...yet, and the minute has to be over by now. In fact the train starts moving. 'Get on the train! GET ON THE TRAIN!' He stops shouting, indicating they got on the train. We head back down the carriage and we all find each other, with all our luggage. What happened? These 2 (nephew and brother) were trying to get into an AC car, instead of just getting on the train. Oooof. The whole thing was a scary adrenaline rush, with the darkness, and getting all of us on in a minute - but there we all were, happily exhilarated but also thankful it was all over. For me and my brother, it was a fun adventure.
2 stops over was Patna Junction, where we got off the train and found the right AC carriage. It was down about half of the length of the train from where we had actually got on. Severe miscalculation, on the part of the house driver.
Calcutta - Birla Temple: In Calcutta we met up with an uncle from my Dad's side. He took us out with his family to a lake, which was really nice. There was a small masjid right in the middle of the lake where we prayed Maghrib. On the same lake was a clubhouse that was showing a Hindu play, with lots of festive music and lights. As we walked around the lake we got a great view of the masjid and the Hindu festivities going on (I think it was the end of Durga Puja, or right after it). After hearing so much about religious bloodshed in India, I enjoyed seeing these kinds of sights, because of personal reasons. My aunt however, was not a fan. But it wasn't a big deal because we just laughed it off, including her son who just held her hand and told her to enjoy it (my aunt is the only one in my whole family, who wears niqab. I'm the only one that wears hijab). No one is really doctrinal in my family, or if they are, they're not very vocal about it - this aunt however, is pretty vocal, but she has a bubbly personality which takes the edge off.
Later on we were in the car and passed a huge temple. HUGE. So of course it grabbed our attention. My uncle asked if he should stop the car so that me and my brother could take photos. My brother said no, don't worry about it, not wanting to stop the car in the middle of traffic, but I said hey why not? Let's go man! My uncle stopped the car while my aunt kept saying 'Astufr'Allah', and my uncle just said 'Oh let them enjoy themselves'. None of this was taken seriously, they're fairly easy-going people, in case anyone is reading this and thinking 'wow Hena's family sounds fundo'. So me and my bro got out of the car, with another cousin, and we took photos. I just think this whole situation is pretty amusing. I'm not sure if it was ok for us to take photos from outside, but we only took a couple minutes just in case. We were only asked to stand on the side because the place was insanely busy, and off we went. Turns out Birla is the name of a businessman, and there are lots of Birla companies (like Birla Cement), and temples too.
Calcutta - some road in traffic: My bro and I had been to a few markets where shopkeepers would start following us around because they knew we came from abroad, telling us to come to their shops. We just ignored them, or said no and then ignored them. My bro kept saying that it was my fault, that I stood out, not him, and that's why we kept getting targeted. My argument - Fahad your clothes and hair make you stand out too, fool. But I know my hijab style and probably my trousers didn't make me look like a native, but who cares, I didn't.
This time however, we were in the car stuck in traffic again, can't remember who with unfortunately (we have lots of relatives in Calcutta). There was a guy on the street selling gobi, which is cauliflower. By this time we had gotten over our cultural shock of the mudderland, so stuff like this seemed normal now to me and my bro. This was everyday stuff now, nothing unusual. The guy walked amongst the cars going 'Gobi! Gobi! Gobi!' When the guy got to our car, he saw my brother first, and immediately said 'cauliflower', instead of 'gobi'. When he left I started gloating, and my brother was surprised that the guy knew he was from abroad, just by an instant glance. He asked everyone in the car how that was so and they all just said, that's how it is, they can always tell. My bro got proved wrong by the gobi man. Thanks gobi-wallah.
Clearly, these posts are coming from someone who hasn't been in India in a while. Last time I came here I was 10, now I'm 22. Back then India was pretty different (that's another post altogether). So to Indians reading this, the stuff I'll write about it is not gonna be anything new. These posts are coming from a mindset of a kid of Indian immigrants who has grown up being surrounded by an (not 'the') Indian culture, while only seeing India at a very young age. So when I first got here, there was a huge cultural shock, as I knew there was going to be. I remember my drive from the Delhi airport to my cousin's house - I was curious about every single thing I saw. After a week however, that had drastically subsided, and I had gotten much used to how things look in India, and to how people live here (servants, for example. Another post). And a disclaimer: don't worry, I don't think I'm an expert on India just coz I've been here a few weeks.
First off, I've hardly thought about the U.S. election while here. The only things I've read have been in the Times of India or in the Telegraph, and that's it. It feels great to be disconnected from the insane election, because in the U.S. there was definitely information overload about it. My only comment about the election - if Colin Powell was so great he wouldn't have lied and said that Iraq had WMD. Innit?
Being over here it seems like a lot of things don't matter as much anymore, or at all. I've been feeling pretty disconnected from stuff, which is good in a way, but I think its also dangerous because it can lead to apathy. I'm beginning to understand how easy it is to disengage from everything and just focus on yourself and what's in front of you, and to forget about the outside world. I don't know if any of this has to do with me being in India, or with me just not being at home and not having as much access to gaining information.
Why do I so focus so much on how much information I have access to? I suppose its because I'm a media person and I'm also concerned with media monopolization and the effect it has on us, plus our use of technology is pretty overwhelming if you think about it. All of this adds up to me thinking about how much media I access and how much technology I use on a daily basis.
Anyway those are my reflections for the moment. I've got three funny accounts to tell for now, at least what I find funny, but then again I find a lot of things amusing:
Patna - isolated train station: Our train to Calcutta was around 8:40pm. This was a local train station right next to my uncle's house, so all we did was leave the house and walk a few steps to the station right in front of us. The power had gone out again in the area (this is Bihar), and there were only a few lights on, right in the station, swarming with bugs of course. To cross the bridge to get to the other side we had to face flying masses of these bugs. My bhaji (female cousin) and I tackled the bridge, because I could use my hijab-dupatta and she could use her dupatta, to cover our faces. We ran up, over, and down. I didn't think it was that bad but that's because my arms were covered. Meanwhile my brother, nephew, and other cousin crossed the tracks, something I remembered doing from when I visited India before. We got to the other platform before them and I realized I could have just crossed the tracks as well, the only reason I didn't is because I was wearing sandals (which I've done since I got here), and the railroad tracks have loads of rocks.
Anyway by the time we all headed down to where 2 other guys with our luggage were standing, we were practically in complete darkness. The train announcements kept coming, with the annoyingly loud ding - in Hindi only. I wondered if tourists (Western ones) had ever come to this station, and if so, they would be pretty troubled I reckon, because nothing was in English and there was certainly no station worker. The train was on its way and we knew we only had a minute to get on it - the 5 of us, with our luggage, including 2 big suitcases. The train blasted its awfully loud horn and we got ready, bags in our hands, ready to pounce on the train. Of course, that didn't happen.
The train came, slowed down, and we ran. Instructions were for me, my bhaji, and my nephew to get on first, then my brother and cousin with our luggage. What happened is that the men ran way off because the AC carriage was meters away from where we were standing - we had severely miscalculated where the carriage would stop. The 2 guys with our luggage had to run with the suitcases on their heads - it was pretty funny to watch, but I also felt bad for them at the same time. Especially because one of them was the house driver, so this wasn't his line of work in the first place. So all the men ran way off while my bhaji and I ran, and spotted a door, but then no, don't go in that one go in the next one. More frantic running. Bhaago bhaago bhaago! We jump in, and I stick my head out right away, trying to see if the others got on. I see some figures but its so dark I can barely see anything. I figured we had all got on. Bhaji hears my cousin hollering from another door in the same carriage, and we rush over. Turns out my brother and nephew aren't on the train...yet, and the minute has to be over by now. In fact the train starts moving. 'Get on the train! GET ON THE TRAIN!' He stops shouting, indicating they got on the train. We head back down the carriage and we all find each other, with all our luggage. What happened? These 2 (nephew and brother) were trying to get into an AC car, instead of just getting on the train. Oooof. The whole thing was a scary adrenaline rush, with the darkness, and getting all of us on in a minute - but there we all were, happily exhilarated but also thankful it was all over. For me and my brother, it was a fun adventure.
2 stops over was Patna Junction, where we got off the train and found the right AC carriage. It was down about half of the length of the train from where we had actually got on. Severe miscalculation, on the part of the house driver.
Calcutta - Birla Temple: In Calcutta we met up with an uncle from my Dad's side. He took us out with his family to a lake, which was really nice. There was a small masjid right in the middle of the lake where we prayed Maghrib. On the same lake was a clubhouse that was showing a Hindu play, with lots of festive music and lights. As we walked around the lake we got a great view of the masjid and the Hindu festivities going on (I think it was the end of Durga Puja, or right after it). After hearing so much about religious bloodshed in India, I enjoyed seeing these kinds of sights, because of personal reasons. My aunt however, was not a fan. But it wasn't a big deal because we just laughed it off, including her son who just held her hand and told her to enjoy it (my aunt is the only one in my whole family, who wears niqab. I'm the only one that wears hijab). No one is really doctrinal in my family, or if they are, they're not very vocal about it - this aunt however, is pretty vocal, but she has a bubbly personality which takes the edge off.
Later on we were in the car and passed a huge temple. HUGE. So of course it grabbed our attention. My uncle asked if he should stop the car so that me and my brother could take photos. My brother said no, don't worry about it, not wanting to stop the car in the middle of traffic, but I said hey why not? Let's go man! My uncle stopped the car while my aunt kept saying 'Astufr'Allah', and my uncle just said 'Oh let them enjoy themselves'. None of this was taken seriously, they're fairly easy-going people, in case anyone is reading this and thinking 'wow Hena's family sounds fundo'. So me and my bro got out of the car, with another cousin, and we took photos. I just think this whole situation is pretty amusing. I'm not sure if it was ok for us to take photos from outside, but we only took a couple minutes just in case. We were only asked to stand on the side because the place was insanely busy, and off we went. Turns out Birla is the name of a businessman, and there are lots of Birla companies (like Birla Cement), and temples too.
Calcutta - some road in traffic: My bro and I had been to a few markets where shopkeepers would start following us around because they knew we came from abroad, telling us to come to their shops. We just ignored them, or said no and then ignored them. My bro kept saying that it was my fault, that I stood out, not him, and that's why we kept getting targeted. My argument - Fahad your clothes and hair make you stand out too, fool. But I know my hijab style and probably my trousers didn't make me look like a native, but who cares, I didn't.
This time however, we were in the car stuck in traffic again, can't remember who with unfortunately (we have lots of relatives in Calcutta). There was a guy on the street selling gobi, which is cauliflower. By this time we had gotten over our cultural shock of the mudderland, so stuff like this seemed normal now to me and my bro. This was everyday stuff now, nothing unusual. The guy walked amongst the cars going 'Gobi! Gobi! Gobi!' When the guy got to our car, he saw my brother first, and immediately said 'cauliflower', instead of 'gobi'. When he left I started gloating, and my brother was surprised that the guy knew he was from abroad, just by an instant glance. He asked everyone in the car how that was so and they all just said, that's how it is, they can always tell. My bro got proved wrong by the gobi man. Thanks gobi-wallah.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)