We didn't know the 23-year-old girl, who was brutally abused and severely injured in a Delhi bus, not even her name. Yet over the past few days, somehow, she developed a bond of relationship with millions of people all over the globe - young and old, men and women, boys and girls, rich and the poor - who prayed for her recovery and also protested against her assault.
Even when she was shifted to Singapore and news poured in that her condition was worsening, millions of people were hoping against hope. After all, the brutality faced by the young, aspiring girl, struck India's moral chord.
One can only hope that the exemplary courage shown by the 23-year-old will awaken a crippled society to stand up against all forms of human abuse.
But chances are few and far between.
Even when India was outraged by the brutality meted out to the medical student, a teenager in Punjab committed suicide after repeated requests to start an investigation against an incident of atrocity inflicted on her fell on deaf ear. Neither the unspeakable brutality nor the public anguish stopped the perpetrators from committing heinous crimes, even babies and children were not spared.
India takes pride in its sense of aesthetics and moral values. For generations the stalwarts of Indian society have worked hard to uphold those values. The death of the 23-year-old girl miles away from India, in Singapore, and many others in India have once again proved that the beasts within us are not tamed yet, despite our talks of high values and morality.
Undoubtedly it is time for action, but it is also time for reflection and self-introspection. We should start the reform process from within ourselves before blaming others for failing in their share of responsibilities.
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a London-based journalist and a media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
All comments are personal.
Tuesday
From my notebook on Narendrapur
August 21, 1985: Usha Ranjan Sen entered Class X, Section A, at the start of a period after lunch break. Incidentally, it was the last English lesson before the revision monthly test, which would be followed by the Pre-Test and then the Test, leading to the school-leaving Madhyamik Examination. Sadhan-da, as he was also known, had planned to revise some of the difficult pieces like "Where The Mind is Without Fear" and "Narayan Hemchandra".
Entering the classroom he quipped: "No more stories today." Sitting next to the door, it was my responsibility to close it at the start of a lesson, and while doing so I responded: "But Harchand Singh Longowal has been assassinated." After some persuasion, Sadhan-da reluctantly agreed and delved into what was a mesmerising lecture not on English Literature but on Indian Politics.
More than 25 years after leaving my school in Narendrapur when I look back, this seamless interaction with the teachers is one of the many things that I cherish most. The institute may be one of the premier schools in West Bengal, if not in India, but we were encouraged to think beyond our textbooks and the teachers wouldn't confine themselves only within the academic syllabi.
I still remember Sadhan-da talking about his experience of living in Jagannath Hall as a student of Dhaka University, his interactions with renowned physicist Satyendra Nath Bose - who as far as I can recall was the Prefect there. He also spoke about and how Prof B B Roy of the English Department of then the Ripon College nominated him as the sole candidate for the inter-university debate in Lahore, then part of undivided India. The topic of the debate, Sadhan-da told us, was on the Two-Nation theory as floated by the All India Muslim League and he had argued that "the two nations would always hiss but never kiss" to win the prize as the best debater, but his university was disqualified as there was only one contestant from there instead of two - one speaking in favour of the motion and the other against.
October 31, 1984: The students of the Class IX Section B were eagerly waiting to watch the cricket one-dayer between India and Pakistan at Peshawar as their Bengali teacher Benu Sanyal made his way into the classroom in the first period with his Japanese-made portable television set. Finally, the match didn't take place and later in the day it was known that then Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had been assassinated by his bodyguards. Benu-da was more of a story-teller than a teacher and his topics ranged from spoonerism to contemporary Indian politics, from travelogue to the artwork of Rabindranath. Many of his students enjoyed the kite-flying attitude towards knowledge rather than being confined only within a list of prose and poetry.
The style of Kalipada Mandal was, however, much different. A great taskmaster and a disciplinarian, Kalipada-da, with his meticulous style and mechanical precision made sure that we not only learnt the subject well but also managed to assimilate every bit of it. Rabindranath Palodhi on the other hand would add a gloss of glamour and flamboyance to the context of everything he taught.
Utmost dedication
I was probably one of the unlucky few in Narendrapur who was never part of the classes of two stalwarts - Ajit Sengupta and Ajit Chatterjee. They along with many others symbolised what dedicated and value-based teaching was. Fellow students who were lucky to be part of Ajit Sengupta's Life Science classes would say that he spoke and conducted himself with such confidence that listening to him, standing in his usual style on one-leg with the other resting on the table, did tantamount to nothing short of believing and understanding. But his towering personality, which exuded authority to the brim, crumbled and he broke down in tears for not being able to be by the side of his students during the Madhyamik Examination in the spring of 1985.
Ajit-da (Sengupta) had injured himself very badly while negotiating with his moped in the morning of the very day when the boys of the 1985-batch were due to appear for their Life Science test. Ajit-da was supposed to accompany the boys to the examination centre at St Lawrence School, as was the practice in Narendrapur of subject teachers providing last minute support and confidence to the students appearing for the exam. Unable to be with his students before the examination, he was seen sobbing and weeping as we went to see him in the afternoon.
In the following months he taught the next batch of students in a hall near his dingy room behind Saradananda Bhavan, despite having a severe injury in his thigh. Two dining hall staff would literally lift and place him on a platform, but once Ajit-da started with his lecture he would be in his usual elements.
Ajit Chatterjee on the other hand would flesh out the complexities of history and render them with story-telling simplicity. Sporting a dhoti and a shirt and holding an executive diary, Ajit Chatterjee was very soft-spoken and down to earth given his vast experience in teaching and breadth of knowledge in History. Many years after leaving Narendrapur, I came across Ajit-da (Chatterjee) at Nandan and later heard that he passed away under very tragic circumstances.
Home away from home
Narendrapur was not only a residential school for many of us, but a true home away from home, where we were looked after with no less dedication and affection than our parents. Amal-da (Swami Shivatmananda) would often pull us up for not wearing enough woollies during the winter months. He also took on the guardians for not giving proper attention to the boys. That cleanliness and timeliness were nothing short of godliness is something many like me picked up from Narendrapur. The dedication of many non-teaching staff, in the libraries, dinning halls, kitchens, hostels and playgrounds were no less than our teachers.
All comments are personal.
Entering the classroom he quipped: "No more stories today." Sitting next to the door, it was my responsibility to close it at the start of a lesson, and while doing so I responded: "But Harchand Singh Longowal has been assassinated." After some persuasion, Sadhan-da reluctantly agreed and delved into what was a mesmerising lecture not on English Literature but on Indian Politics.
More than 25 years after leaving my school in Narendrapur when I look back, this seamless interaction with the teachers is one of the many things that I cherish most. The institute may be one of the premier schools in West Bengal, if not in India, but we were encouraged to think beyond our textbooks and the teachers wouldn't confine themselves only within the academic syllabi.
I still remember Sadhan-da talking about his experience of living in Jagannath Hall as a student of Dhaka University, his interactions with renowned physicist Satyendra Nath Bose - who as far as I can recall was the Prefect there. He also spoke about and how Prof B B Roy of the English Department of then the Ripon College nominated him as the sole candidate for the inter-university debate in Lahore, then part of undivided India. The topic of the debate, Sadhan-da told us, was on the Two-Nation theory as floated by the All India Muslim League and he had argued that "the two nations would always hiss but never kiss" to win the prize as the best debater, but his university was disqualified as there was only one contestant from there instead of two - one speaking in favour of the motion and the other against.
October 31, 1984: The students of the Class IX Section B were eagerly waiting to watch the cricket one-dayer between India and Pakistan at Peshawar as their Bengali teacher Benu Sanyal made his way into the classroom in the first period with his Japanese-made portable television set. Finally, the match didn't take place and later in the day it was known that then Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had been assassinated by his bodyguards. Benu-da was more of a story-teller than a teacher and his topics ranged from spoonerism to contemporary Indian politics, from travelogue to the artwork of Rabindranath. Many of his students enjoyed the kite-flying attitude towards knowledge rather than being confined only within a list of prose and poetry.
The style of Kalipada Mandal was, however, much different. A great taskmaster and a disciplinarian, Kalipada-da, with his meticulous style and mechanical precision made sure that we not only learnt the subject well but also managed to assimilate every bit of it. Rabindranath Palodhi on the other hand would add a gloss of glamour and flamboyance to the context of everything he taught.
Utmost dedication
I was probably one of the unlucky few in Narendrapur who was never part of the classes of two stalwarts - Ajit Sengupta and Ajit Chatterjee. They along with many others symbolised what dedicated and value-based teaching was. Fellow students who were lucky to be part of Ajit Sengupta's Life Science classes would say that he spoke and conducted himself with such confidence that listening to him, standing in his usual style on one-leg with the other resting on the table, did tantamount to nothing short of believing and understanding. But his towering personality, which exuded authority to the brim, crumbled and he broke down in tears for not being able to be by the side of his students during the Madhyamik Examination in the spring of 1985.
Ajit-da (Sengupta) had injured himself very badly while negotiating with his moped in the morning of the very day when the boys of the 1985-batch were due to appear for their Life Science test. Ajit-da was supposed to accompany the boys to the examination centre at St Lawrence School, as was the practice in Narendrapur of subject teachers providing last minute support and confidence to the students appearing for the exam. Unable to be with his students before the examination, he was seen sobbing and weeping as we went to see him in the afternoon.
In the following months he taught the next batch of students in a hall near his dingy room behind Saradananda Bhavan, despite having a severe injury in his thigh. Two dining hall staff would literally lift and place him on a platform, but once Ajit-da started with his lecture he would be in his usual elements.
Ajit Chatterjee on the other hand would flesh out the complexities of history and render them with story-telling simplicity. Sporting a dhoti and a shirt and holding an executive diary, Ajit Chatterjee was very soft-spoken and down to earth given his vast experience in teaching and breadth of knowledge in History. Many years after leaving Narendrapur, I came across Ajit-da (Chatterjee) at Nandan and later heard that he passed away under very tragic circumstances.
Home away from home
Narendrapur was not only a residential school for many of us, but a true home away from home, where we were looked after with no less dedication and affection than our parents. Amal-da (Swami Shivatmananda) would often pull us up for not wearing enough woollies during the winter months. He also took on the guardians for not giving proper attention to the boys. That cleanliness and timeliness were nothing short of godliness is something many like me picked up from Narendrapur. The dedication of many non-teaching staff, in the libraries, dinning halls, kitchens, hostels and playgrounds were no less than our teachers.
There was an aura of inspiration in Narendrapur, which probably had its impact on not only the good but also on the many mediocre students like me. I still remember how a veteran boxer Gauri Shankar Maity, also known as GSM, totally transformed my ability in Mathematics and that too in Class X. After I failed in the second monthly test - scoring 13, which was also my roll number. For GSM the coincidence was a record of sorts - he literally made me do the sums on the blackboard for the rest of the year, stating that his heart was not strong enough to climb the podium. GSM was annoyed that I missed out eight marks in the Mathematics paper in Madhyamik. However, me and my parents were on cloud-nine. In hindsight, the exercise carried out by GSM by making me do the sums on the blackboard in front of 14 fellow-students made me stage-free. This had an impact on my two-decades as a professional journalist both in India, and for the BBC World Service between 1999 and 2012 in London.
Another legendary teacher Nilachal-da (Nilachal Samanta) - the brother of former Bollywood director Shakti Samanta - would explain every problem in such minute detail that Mathematics became a child's play. In Class VIII, Nilachal-da showed us the half-gold and half-silver medal that he was awarded by the University of Calcutta, and looking back I can now realise the significance of his common parlance that he would have broken all academic records had he got a teacher like him.
Teachers like Satya-da (Satya Ranjan Sarkar) and Gour-da (Gour Hari Bhuiyan), both from the Chemistry Department, would make sure we understood the subject well and also had the best study material in hand. I still remember how Gour-da taught us to use simultaneous equations to balance chemical equations, rather than memorising them.
The emphasis on character building was no less important in Narendrapur. It was mandatory to go for the physical training sessions in the morning and sports in the afternoon. Arun-da (Arun Das) would use every possible opportunity to explain the importance of physical fitness with scientific precision.
Dilip-da (Dilip Kumar Bose), on the other hand, was obsessed with students sitting straight in classrooms. His belief was that sitting straight was not only an act of discipline but was also essential for proper understanding. Dilip-da once thrashed me in Class VII for bending on the floor while he was teaching us Geography. Now when I see my daughter lean on the bed during her lessons and complain about not understanding whatever she reads, I realise the importance of what Dilip-da used to tell us.
Dilip-da (Dilip Kumar Bose), on the other hand, was obsessed with students sitting straight in classrooms. His belief was that sitting straight was not only an act of discipline but was also essential for proper understanding. Dilip-da once thrashed me in Class VII for bending on the floor while he was teaching us Geography. Now when I see my daughter lean on the bed during her lessons and complain about not understanding whatever she reads, I realise the importance of what Dilip-da used to tell us.
Even more than quarter of a century after I left Narendrapur, it still remains one of my cherished places. I am deeply indebted to my teachers and others who guided and supported me to achieve whatever little I have in my life.
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
Tirthankar Bandyopadhyay is a journalist and media consultant.
He can be contacted at tirthankarb@hotmail.com
Saturday
Many questions to answer over nurse's death
Jacintha Saldanha has now become a household name not only in Britain but also in many other countries around the globe. The dedicated nurse, who was committed to serve the sick and the frail, took her own life apparently out of distress and humiliation of being duped by a prank call made by two Aussie DJs, who impersonated members of the British royal family.
The suicide notes left by Mrs Saldanha have reportedly been critical of the DJs and staff members of the King Edward VII hospital, where the mother of two was employed. Mrs Saldanha's death has left an "unfillable void" in her family. Our thoughts and prayers are with Mrs Saldanha's husband Benedict Barboza and their children Junal and Lisha.
Mrs Saldanha's death has raised many questions at different levels.
- Are prank calls or impersonation desirable or acceptable in any form of journalism or for that matter in the media?
- Did the DJs and their Editor or Producer follow the best practice by not telling Mrs Saldanha that they had indulged in a prank call and impersonation, and they would broadcast the conversation or its content?
- Was it ethical to make fun at the cost of someone?
The mishap has also raised more ethical questions about the mode of operation and the code of conduct of journalists and broadcasters at a time of cut-throat (unprincipled or ruthless) journalism in an age of fierce competition.
Editors often ask their reporters to beg, borrow or steal to get exclusive stories so that they can save their backs or have edge over their competitors. Incidents like the phone-hacking in the UK are serious pointers to the fact that the custodians of journalistic ethics are not engaging themselves in the best possible ways.
When I first joined the BBC more than 13 years ago, I was told that it was unethical to record or photograph someone without informing the person concerned. The failing became even more serious if that recording or photograph was used for broadcast without informing the person concerned, and sometimes even a formal permission was necessary unless the matter related to public interest.
The radio station in Australia which allowed making the prank call and cleared it for broadcast has to answer these questions. Others in the media fraternity also needed to learn serious lessons from the sad and untimely demise of a caring mother and a loving wife.
The authorities at the King Edward VII Hospital have to clear the air about the treatment meted out to the Indian-born nurse after the prank call.
- Why a nurse on duty had to take a call from outside?
A nurse was competent to serve the sick and the frail but the work of a receptionist called for different skill sets.
- Has the hospital authority failed in providing timely and adequate support to the grieving family of Mrs Saldanha?
- Was Mrs Saldanha pulled up or treated unfairly because she was an immigrant?
Being an Indian myself, I have seen people being pulled up or ridiculed for being immigrants and also for their Indian English and accents.
If Britain is serious about integration in an age of globalisation, when there is free flow of goods, services and people, the politicians, policy-makers and intellectuals need to ponder over the real issues surrounding the death of Mrs Saldanha.
British parliamentarian of Indian origin Keith Vaz might have been instrumental, and quite rightly so, in helping and comforting the grieving family of Mrs Saldanha, Prime Minister David Cameron might have been swift in paying his tribute to the caring nurse, but the matter will reach a closure only if the people at the helm in Britain could identify the problems relating to race-relations in the country.
All comments are personal.
Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
The suicide notes left by Mrs Saldanha have reportedly been critical of the DJs and staff members of the King Edward VII hospital, where the mother of two was employed. Mrs Saldanha's death has left an "unfillable void" in her family. Our thoughts and prayers are with Mrs Saldanha's husband Benedict Barboza and their children Junal and Lisha.
'Beg, borrow or steal'
- Are prank calls or impersonation desirable or acceptable in any form of journalism or for that matter in the media?
- Did the DJs and their Editor or Producer follow the best practice by not telling Mrs Saldanha that they had indulged in a prank call and impersonation, and they would broadcast the conversation or its content?
- Was it ethical to make fun at the cost of someone?
The mishap has also raised more ethical questions about the mode of operation and the code of conduct of journalists and broadcasters at a time of cut-throat (unprincipled or ruthless) journalism in an age of fierce competition.
Editors often ask their reporters to beg, borrow or steal to get exclusive stories so that they can save their backs or have edge over their competitors. Incidents like the phone-hacking in the UK are serious pointers to the fact that the custodians of journalistic ethics are not engaging themselves in the best possible ways.
When I first joined the BBC more than 13 years ago, I was told that it was unethical to record or photograph someone without informing the person concerned. The failing became even more serious if that recording or photograph was used for broadcast without informing the person concerned, and sometimes even a formal permission was necessary unless the matter related to public interest.
The radio station in Australia which allowed making the prank call and cleared it for broadcast has to answer these questions. Others in the media fraternity also needed to learn serious lessons from the sad and untimely demise of a caring mother and a loving wife.
Unfair treatment
The authorities at the King Edward VII Hospital have to clear the air about the treatment meted out to the Indian-born nurse after the prank call.
- Why a nurse on duty had to take a call from outside?
A nurse was competent to serve the sick and the frail but the work of a receptionist called for different skill sets.
- Has the hospital authority failed in providing timely and adequate support to the grieving family of Mrs Saldanha?
- Was Mrs Saldanha pulled up or treated unfairly because she was an immigrant?
Being an Indian myself, I have seen people being pulled up or ridiculed for being immigrants and also for their Indian English and accents.
If Britain is serious about integration in an age of globalisation, when there is free flow of goods, services and people, the politicians, policy-makers and intellectuals need to ponder over the real issues surrounding the death of Mrs Saldanha.
British parliamentarian of Indian origin Keith Vaz might have been instrumental, and quite rightly so, in helping and comforting the grieving family of Mrs Saldanha, Prime Minister David Cameron might have been swift in paying his tribute to the caring nurse, but the matter will reach a closure only if the people at the helm in Britain could identify the problems relating to race-relations in the country.
All comments are personal.
Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
Thursday
When secularism is symbolic
Many years back - probably at the height of the Bofors controversy or may be during the countrywide "Rathyatra" by L K Advani - I read a story about India's first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. I can't recollect the source of the publication now, neither can I vouch for the veracity of the information.
The story goes like this: Nehru used to contest from the then Phulpur parliamentary constituency (which is much different from what it is now) in Uttar Pradesh. Before an election, a rumour was doing the round that Nehru has converted to Islam.
During that point in time, both the politics in the state of Uttar Pradesh and also in India were hugely influenced by high caste Hindus, especially Brahmins. The dominance of the likes of Hemabati Nandan Bahuguna, Kamalapati Tripathi, Narayan Dutt Tiwari in UP politics, and later the influence people like Kalraj Mishra and Lalji Tandon enjoyed, say it all.
Fearing that the upper caste Hindus, especially the Brahmins would be antagonised by this piece of news - rumour though be it - Nehru's campaign managers published a poster showing him doing "tarpan" - a Hindu act of remembering the predecessors, standing head-shaved and bare-bodied at Triveni (considered holy as it is the confluence of the three rivers - Ganga, Jamuna and now extinct Saraswati).
What role the posters played was not exactly known, but Nehru managed to skip through the elections.
As I was going through some of the articles on the 20th anniversary of the demolition of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, this story came to my mind.
The Shah Banu case and the opening up of the Ram Janmabhoomi happened when I was in school. Rajiv Gandhi had just come to power with a resounding majority and many people were expecting some real change. When Advani started his "Rathyatra", I was in a Kolkata college. Finally, when the disputed Babri Mosque was razed, I was just a few months in Calcutta University. So the rise of a new brand of politics, which was shaping the political landscape in India during that point in time, was analogous to the life-paths of many like me.
I still remember the uneasy calm that prevailed in the vicinity of Belgharia - the place where I lived - after the demolition of the Babri Mosque, with political parties taking out silent processions and their cadres wearing black badges. Now when I think back, they seem more like a symbolic protest rather than trying to get to the core of the problem.
The way communalism, communal politics and the issues attached to them have been dealt by a majority of the Indian politicians was mostly symbolic, and here in lies the context of the story relating to Nehru that I started with. Right from the time of Nehru, practising secularism has been seen more as a ceremonial act, which depicts symbolism, rather than encouraging people to take it as a way of life.
But for generations people in the sub-continent have lived amidst religious and communal amity. I heard from my grandparents how their Muslim neighbours looked after them in Barishal, now in south-east Bangladesh.
My paternal grandfather was a teacher in a high school in Bhola, then part of Barishal, historically known for dacoity or banditry. His social position gave him the privilege to decide the career-paths of many students in the Muslim-dominated area. Couple of my grandfather's students confided to me after his death in 1979 that they would have taken up the family profession of dacoity had he not thrashed and severely reprimanded them for neglecting their studies. On many occasions, my grandmother told me, even Muslim students would go for their marriage only after seeking blessings from my grandparents.
There was no symbolism then - no artificial effort to demonstrate that Hindus and Muslims are alike. The reality is they are not - not least because they belong to different religions, but because every individual is unique in itself.
Because of social norms in the early 20th century, Hindu Brahmins wouldn't have food in the house of Muslims. It may be good or bad - one might agree to it or might disagree, but that was the social practice then and people would abide by it, without any mere gesture of symbolism. And because there was no symbolism, the inter-personal relationships were genuine.
My grandmother would tell me that the parents of Muslim students getting married would send rice, fish, sweets, and other raw materials needed for cooking a sumptuous lunch and even dresses for their teachers and their families so that they could also be part of the celebrations. In return, the teacher would visit the venue of the ceremony and give his blessings to the newly-wed.
This is not to say that I am defending the social practises which were in place then. All that I am trying to say is that for secularism to succeed it should be a way of life rather than being a well-orchestrated symbolic gesture.
Many Muslims visit their Hindu friends during religious festivals, like Saraswati Puja etc. and in some cases even per take 'prasad' (sanctified food). It also works the other way round. A person who is secular in heart and soul would accept this as something natural, but the one who believes in symbolism would try to project it as a great success story of secularism.
This is what most of the Indian politicians and people in higher echelons of society have been doing. It is this symbolism of secularism which is one of the reasons behind the high place that the Nehru-Gandhi family enjoys in Indian politics. In the family (and also in the actions of its members) there is an artificial representation of the so-called "secular India". Recall, how Indira Gandhi used to seek the formal support of the Imam of Jama Masjid before every election.
And Congress is not the only political outfit demonstrating symbolic secularism.
Despite denouncing the path of religion in politics, the Left Front in West Bengal nominated a vitriolic person like Kalimuddin Shams, for successive elections, as its candidate from Kabitirtho or allied with a communal force like the Indian Union of Muslim League in Kerala. More recently, when Mamata Banerjee attends rallies she makes sure that a hijab-like cloth is around her head - as if that symbolism serves the purpose of the deprived Muslims in India. On the other side of the spectrum, L K Advani carried out a countrywide "Rathyatra" for a Ram Temple at the site of the Babri Mosque and then termed the day when the controversial structure was brought down as the saddest in his life.
After the demolition of the Babri Mosque in 1992, many people predicted that the politics of 'Hinduttwa' (the pre-eminence of the Hindus) would become dominant in India. The reality, however, has proved them wrong. Pluralism still remains a dominant force in India, but it is often vitiated by politicians offering sops to certain sections without genuinely caring for their well-being.
If sops would have worked, the Muslims wouldn't have been the most deprived and impoverished in India.
All comments are personal.
Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
The story goes like this: Nehru used to contest from the then Phulpur parliamentary constituency (which is much different from what it is now) in Uttar Pradesh. Before an election, a rumour was doing the round that Nehru has converted to Islam.
During that point in time, both the politics in the state of Uttar Pradesh and also in India were hugely influenced by high caste Hindus, especially Brahmins. The dominance of the likes of Hemabati Nandan Bahuguna, Kamalapati Tripathi, Narayan Dutt Tiwari in UP politics, and later the influence people like Kalraj Mishra and Lalji Tandon enjoyed, say it all.
Fearing that the upper caste Hindus, especially the Brahmins would be antagonised by this piece of news - rumour though be it - Nehru's campaign managers published a poster showing him doing "tarpan" - a Hindu act of remembering the predecessors, standing head-shaved and bare-bodied at Triveni (considered holy as it is the confluence of the three rivers - Ganga, Jamuna and now extinct Saraswati).
What role the posters played was not exactly known, but Nehru managed to skip through the elections.
As I was going through some of the articles on the 20th anniversary of the demolition of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, this story came to my mind.
'Ceremonial act'
The Shah Banu case and the opening up of the Ram Janmabhoomi happened when I was in school. Rajiv Gandhi had just come to power with a resounding majority and many people were expecting some real change. When Advani started his "Rathyatra", I was in a Kolkata college. Finally, when the disputed Babri Mosque was razed, I was just a few months in Calcutta University. So the rise of a new brand of politics, which was shaping the political landscape in India during that point in time, was analogous to the life-paths of many like me.
I still remember the uneasy calm that prevailed in the vicinity of Belgharia - the place where I lived - after the demolition of the Babri Mosque, with political parties taking out silent processions and their cadres wearing black badges. Now when I think back, they seem more like a symbolic protest rather than trying to get to the core of the problem.
The way communalism, communal politics and the issues attached to them have been dealt by a majority of the Indian politicians was mostly symbolic, and here in lies the context of the story relating to Nehru that I started with. Right from the time of Nehru, practising secularism has been seen more as a ceremonial act, which depicts symbolism, rather than encouraging people to take it as a way of life.
But for generations people in the sub-continent have lived amidst religious and communal amity. I heard from my grandparents how their Muslim neighbours looked after them in Barishal, now in south-east Bangladesh.
Nothing artificial
My paternal grandfather was a teacher in a high school in Bhola, then part of Barishal, historically known for dacoity or banditry. His social position gave him the privilege to decide the career-paths of many students in the Muslim-dominated area. Couple of my grandfather's students confided to me after his death in 1979 that they would have taken up the family profession of dacoity had he not thrashed and severely reprimanded them for neglecting their studies. On many occasions, my grandmother told me, even Muslim students would go for their marriage only after seeking blessings from my grandparents.
There was no symbolism then - no artificial effort to demonstrate that Hindus and Muslims are alike. The reality is they are not - not least because they belong to different religions, but because every individual is unique in itself.
Because of social norms in the early 20th century, Hindu Brahmins wouldn't have food in the house of Muslims. It may be good or bad - one might agree to it or might disagree, but that was the social practice then and people would abide by it, without any mere gesture of symbolism. And because there was no symbolism, the inter-personal relationships were genuine.
My grandmother would tell me that the parents of Muslim students getting married would send rice, fish, sweets, and other raw materials needed for cooking a sumptuous lunch and even dresses for their teachers and their families so that they could also be part of the celebrations. In return, the teacher would visit the venue of the ceremony and give his blessings to the newly-wed.
This is not to say that I am defending the social practises which were in place then. All that I am trying to say is that for secularism to succeed it should be a way of life rather than being a well-orchestrated symbolic gesture.
Many Muslims visit their Hindu friends during religious festivals, like Saraswati Puja etc. and in some cases even per take 'prasad' (sanctified food). It also works the other way round. A person who is secular in heart and soul would accept this as something natural, but the one who believes in symbolism would try to project it as a great success story of secularism.
Political hypocrisy
This is what most of the Indian politicians and people in higher echelons of society have been doing. It is this symbolism of secularism which is one of the reasons behind the high place that the Nehru-Gandhi family enjoys in Indian politics. In the family (and also in the actions of its members) there is an artificial representation of the so-called "secular India". Recall, how Indira Gandhi used to seek the formal support of the Imam of Jama Masjid before every election.
And Congress is not the only political outfit demonstrating symbolic secularism.
Despite denouncing the path of religion in politics, the Left Front in West Bengal nominated a vitriolic person like Kalimuddin Shams, for successive elections, as its candidate from Kabitirtho or allied with a communal force like the Indian Union of Muslim League in Kerala. More recently, when Mamata Banerjee attends rallies she makes sure that a hijab-like cloth is around her head - as if that symbolism serves the purpose of the deprived Muslims in India. On the other side of the spectrum, L K Advani carried out a countrywide "Rathyatra" for a Ram Temple at the site of the Babri Mosque and then termed the day when the controversial structure was brought down as the saddest in his life.
After the demolition of the Babri Mosque in 1992, many people predicted that the politics of 'Hinduttwa' (the pre-eminence of the Hindus) would become dominant in India. The reality, however, has proved them wrong. Pluralism still remains a dominant force in India, but it is often vitiated by politicians offering sops to certain sections without genuinely caring for their well-being.
If sops would have worked, the Muslims wouldn't have been the most deprived and impoverished in India.
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Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
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