LANKA WITHOUT LTTE

So after 25 years of blood, gore and destruction, the war in Sri Lanka is drawing to a close. Many Sri Lankans are likely to breathe a sigh of relief on the prolonged bloodshed coming to an end. The war, for the past two and half decades, has brought immense suffering and misery to all the people of all Sri Lanka, whether they are Sinhalese, Tamil or Muslim. Every single family in this small island has been affected by the war, in one way or another. Soldiers, civilians, doctors, journalists.. they’ve all died in this war. Falling victim either to artillery shells or to suicide attacks or sometimes to state-sponsored extra-judicial killings.

But does the end of the war mean, end of all problems? Let’s get this straight. Prabhakaran is not the fundamental problem. He’s only a symptom of the problem. Some would say the most vocal, potent manifestation of the problem. The fundamental problem is the legitimate aspiration of the Tamil people to a life of dignity, equality and autonomy. That fundamental problem doesn’t end, with or without Prabhakaran. You cannot have a Sri Lanka where 3.5 million Tamils feel they’re treated like second class citizens. They have every right to demand a Sri Lanka where they are given the same rights, opportunities and freedom as the Sinhala majority. And if by consensus, regional autonomy is the only way of doing that, then so be it. How far the Sri Lankan state can convert military success into lasting and durable peace will depend on how fast Mr. Rajapakse can come up with a devolution package for the Tamils.

Usually, one-sided military victories in ethnic conflicts are not followed by major political reforms. It hasn’t happened in Bosnia. It hasn’t happened in Darfur. Sri Lanka cannot afford that to happen. In the long run, the Sinhalese political establishment might learn that regional self-rule under unarmed, non-se­cessionist and integrationist Tamil political parties might not be such a bad idea after all. Anything would be better than 25 years of bloody battle with 70,000 lives lost.

Here’s where the problem is. Mr. Rajapakse is dependent on hard line Sinhalese nationalist parties and groups. They have a disproportionate influence on the policy agenda of his administration. According to hardline Sinhala parties like the JVP and JHU, Sri Lanka does not have an “ethnic problem”. What exists is a “terrorist problem”. For them, this terrorist problem is spearheaded by the “fascist” LTTE. And a military victory is adequate to resolve that problem.

And what’s aiding them is that 9/11 has completely obfuscated the difference between terrorism and armed rebellious insurgency. In George Bush’s world view everyone’s a terrorist, whether it’s a Mullah Omar, an Osama bin Laden, an Isak Muivah or a Velupillai Prabhakaran. America’s ubiquitous War on Terror has destroyed all nuances and subtleties. The LTTE has not been fighting this war based on some distorted interpretation of any religion. They’ve been fighting for the legitimate political aspirations of the Tamil people. You may disagree with the method, but you cannot ignore the message. Branding the LTTE’s insurgency as terrorism and crush­ing it is fine. But it should not obviate the fact that the secessionist rebellion, despite its defeat, represented the voice of almost a fifth of Sri Lanka.

For the Tamil people, Prabhakaran’s legacy will hang around their necks like an albatross. The Tamils, as a community will be compelled to accept that defeat was the only major outcome of these 25 years of armed struggle and suffering. That’s how history will remember this war. As a non-resident Tamil, it makes me cringe.

PROF VIJAYAN AND THE DIGNITY OF DEATH

Sometimes, television journalism sucks. It's filled with inequalities, disasters, corruption, malice and viciousness that men are capable of. But there's one cardinal rule that no journo breaks. And that has to do with death. Everyone, absolutely everyone, has the right to a dignified death. And that's exactly why Professor MN Vijayan's death and the coverage of it was such a sham. It was treated like a television spectacle by the national media. With headlines like "Camera par maut" and "Aakhri saas, camere par", the Hindi channels threw out of the window any semblance of decency that has to be given to a dying man. Leave alone a renowned intellectual like Vijayan Maash.

This is what happened with me. And I am still cringing in shame. I was called by a producer from my sister channel with the seemingly innocuous question. "Zakka, do you speak Malayali." I had half a mind to tell him, “uh..it’s not Malayali, it’s Malayalam mate.” But you can’t do much about other people’s ignorance, can you? But this was just the beginning of the dark hole of incapacity that I was being led into. I reached the PCR from where the show was being directed. It had the top editorial brass of the channel giving directions to the anchor. Not a soul, not one, knew who this man was or why his death would leave such a void. From my limited knowledge of the man, I had to tell them that this guy deserved more respect than what he was being subjected to.

Later a friend called up from Kerala and said the Malayalam channels didn’t fare too better either. They too treated it more like a tamasha, for a large part of the afternoon. It was only after viewers started calling in and started heaving abuses that better sense prevailed.

The man maybe gone, but the relevance of the issues he raised still lives on. In fact it lies at the heart of the ideological divide within the CPM. Professor Vijayan cried hoarse at the foreign money that was being bombarded into God’s Own Country in the name of development. With his death, the voice of dissent within the Left has become feebler. And less reasonable.

Prof Vijayan was a hounded man in his last days. He had a slew of defamation cases filed against him after he was thrown out as Editor of Deshabhimani, the CPM’s mouthpiece. But there was a façade of justice, as the Kerala High Court had acquitted him in one such case, just a week before his death. He was addressing his first press conference after the acquittal, when death came calling. A quote of George Bernard Shaw became his famous last words. Fitting, for a man who started his career as a literary critic. Rest in Peace Vijayan Maashe.

THE THREE-HOUR DYNAMITE

Now that the Twenty20 world cup has been pocketed, the victory rallies ended and the champagne stopped flowing, it’s time to sit down and think. Think about what this shortest format of the game is all about and what it holds for the future. It’s also time to destroy some long held myths about this three-hour cricketing dynamite.

Myth # 1 – This is a batsman’s game. If there’s one thing this T20 world cup has exposed, it’s this. This is as much a bowler’s game as it is a batter’s. India won its last three matches, the ones against South Africa, Australia and Pakistan, not because they posted ungettable targets, but because they took wickets at regular intervals. And unlike in the fifty over game, in a Twenty20, every time a wicket falls, the pressure on the incoming batsman increases manifold. And this is at all stages of the game. In the final, if Pakistan were say, six down, as opposed to nine down, they would have won the match, hands tied and eyes closed.

Take the entire tournament, for instance. There were a total of 348 wickets taken in 27 matches. That’s an average of one wicket, every 19 deliveries, which is damn good. The better ones picked up a wicket, once every twelve deliveries. Also, on ten occasions bowlers returned with four-fors. That’s a fair indication that T20 is not a batsman’s game after all.

Myth # 2 – This game is for the big-hitters and the sloggers. Two of the top three run getters in this tournament, Gautam Gambhir and Misbah-ul-Haq, are not the biggest hitters of the cricket ball, by any reckoning. The highest run-getter was Mathew Hayden, who before the World Cup didn’t play a single Twenty20 game. And Matt too is more a clean striker and less a slogger.

Myth # 3 – This game is only about fours and sixes. In the final against Pakistan, out of a 157 that India made, only 76 runs were made in fours and sixes. Take away five extras, and you’ll see that more runs were made by running between the wickets, than by crashing the ball into the billboards. Take even the highest scoring game of the tournament, India versus England. 418 runs were scored in that game. A total of 184 runs were scored in ones, twos and threes. That’s about 45 percent of the total runs, which is ample indication that this game is as much about the grafters, as it is about the butchers.

Myth # 4 – This game is for youngsters. Youth rules. The sight of a victorious young Indian team may re-instate the fact that this is a game for the Gen X-ers, but there are some sporadic old fogies who shone through. Sanath Jayasuriya at one point in the tournament was the highest run getter. He’s 38. The man who eventually became the highest run getter, Mathew Hayden will be 36 in a month’s time. The man who got Pakistan, so near yet so far, Misbah-ul-Haq, is 33. The second highest wicket taker in the tournament is Stuart Clark, who’s just turned 32. Like Mark Twain said “age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.” And cricket my friend, is as much brain as it’s brawn. So here’s to the new baby in the cricketing fraternity. May you live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths.

BATTLE OF THE MYTHS

The old fox is at it once again. You may or may not agree with Karunanidhi's world view of things, but you cannot grudge the man for an innate sense of time and place. No one in my experience of covering politicians and their ilk, plays to the galleries as often and as well as this man. So for most people, on this side of the Vindhyas, Kalaignar's statement attributing Ram to a drunkard and questioning his engineering capabilities, could amount to heresy. But for me, it's just a reflection of the man and his politics.

This is not the first time that Ram has been used as a punching bag. For proponents of the Dravidian movement, like Karunanidhi, Ram was a symbol of Aryan dominance over the native Dravidian. In fact in the forties and fifties, there was a very popular drama doing the rounds of towns in Tamil Nadu called Keemayana. It was an interpretation of the sacred epic that turned everything in it, on its head. So Ram became a drunkard, Sita became a wanton woman and Ravana was celebrated as a Dravidian Hero. It was thrashed by the Brahmins and lapped up by the lower castes.

But this interpretation by EV Ramaswamy was not iconoclastic. There were numerous interpretations of the Ramayana, which celebrated Ravana as a hero. The most notable among them is by a Tamil Rennaisance saint named Ramalingaswami who denounced Valmiki's interpretation of Rama as the do-gooder and Ravana as all evil. There are even Jain interpretations of the Ramayana in their Prati Puranas, which question the central premise of the epic. EVR's Keemayana though, ended up being the most popular.

A politician's audience defines his politics. Karunanidhi's audience will lap up every bit of the Ram-trashing that he's indulging in. Not that the average Tamilian is not religious. In fact, Tamil society is one of the most visibly religious parts of India. You'll find more men sporting the vibudhi and more women donning the kungumam in Chennai or Coimbatore than in any other city in India. But the Tamilian's idea of Hinduism is different from the mainstream Hinduism, defined by the BJP. For him, Ram is not a deified incarnation of Vishnu. Instead, he's a twice born Kshatriya who was an upholder of Brahminical caste norms in society. Someone who killed Sambuk the Sudra, because he did penance. This makes him a figure of resent for the average non-Brahmin Tamilian who's idea of Hinduism is built on a strong dose of anti-Brahminism. Moreover, Dravidian politics has always thrived on a mid-level-lower caste identity rather than a monolithic Hindu identity. Therefore it's only natural that a Tamilian is suspicious of the BJP's idea of a homogenous Hindu ethos.

Moreover, the Sethusamudram iself is seen as a symbol of Tamil pride. Forget, the developmental aspects of the project. The Tamils believe that their Golden Period, which is known as the Sangam period, was under a unified landmass that comprised of the Deccan plateau, Ceylon, Madagascar, Australia and Antartica. And this piece of land is described as Kumari Kandam. Two massive floods are believed to have sunk the Kumari Kandam. The two Sangams, Mudhal Sangam and Idai Sangam are believed to have been written in between these two floods. For the Dravidians, Kumari Kandam or the cradle of civilization is the origin of human languages in general, and Tamil, in particular. For the Dravidianists, the construction of the Sethusamudram Canal comes closest to a modern realisation of the myth of Kumari Kandam. Thus, it’s this politics of nostalgia and the loss of a golden past that Karunanidhi is trying to stoke. Ironically, it’s one myth versus another. The BJP is attacking Karunanidhi for debunking their myth of the Ramar Sethu, even as he propagates his own myth of Kumari Kandam. As always, the old fox has the last kill.

CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS

There are a few myths regarding the resignation of Rahul Dravid that need to be cleared. If anyone (most notably, sports journalists) comes up to you and says, I saw it coming; then you know he’s fibbing. Fibbing through his teeth because no one saw this coming. Not even the selectors. Not even the mandarins of the BCCI. Not even Rahul’s own agent Lokesh Sharma. Such is the man that Rahul Dravid is. Intensely private. A thorough gentleman.

Just a day before the resignation, the BCCI had this star studded affair announcing the launch of it’s new Twenty 20 league. And there were about 200 odd journalists who descended upon that PC. Not a soul there, knew this was coming. Isn’t this ample proof that Rahul Dravid was not interested in the media. If the man wanted to, he could have gone to press first and then informed his bosses in the BCCI. And take my word for it, a lot many Indian captains have done that in the past. The Board was almost invariably, the last one to know. Typical of the man, Rahul makes his decision known to the Board President and goes off on a holiday to the jungles. Thank God for places where cell phones are still unreachable!

The other myth that needs to be busted is this. That he resigned because of differences within the members of his team. Now proponents of this theory will cite the examples of Sourav Ganguly and Zaheer Khan in England speaking in direct contrast to their captain. Why don’t we get this straight? The Indian cricket team is like a private company with eleven employees. You don’t have to love everyone in office nor do you have to agree with each of them. But, all eleven work towards the profit of the organisation. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. Zaheer and Sourav were stating their personal choices. That, in no way makes it, ‘irreconcilable differences’ within the team.

So why did Rahul resign? Well I’m not an expert on this, nor am I close confidant of his. But being a self-confessed fan of Rahul’s, I think it has something to do with the word ‘Legacy’. Those who know Rahul, know that he’s a stickler for history. Twenty years from now, will we remember Rahul Dravid, the batsman or Rahul Dravid, the captain? Chances are, we’ll remember him as a great batsman. And I’m sure Rahul would not want anything to tarnish that reputation. It is true that his batting had been affected because of his captaincy. From the early sixties it had come down to the mid forties in tests. But that’s happened even to the greatest of the greats. Sir Viv, Steve Waugh and Sachin Tendulkar. For all his Bradmanesque achievements, Dravid too is human after all.

There’s an old saying in Malayalam. "Swaram nanaayi irikumbam pattu niruthenam." Meaning, you have to stop singing when your voice is at its peak. Rahul Dravid is one of the few Indian captains who’s resigned after a high, leading the Indian team to a series victory in England after 2 decades. Most of them are sacked ignominiously. Which leaves us with the one positive development to come out of this whole fiasco. It will give us back, Rahul Dravid the batsman. So here’s to more Kolkatas(180*), Adelaides(233) and Headingleys(148). Welcome back Rahul ‘The Wall’ Dravid.

CONFESSIONS OF A TV ANCHOR

It’s always a nice feeling as a television anchor, if you manage to piss off a guest so badly, that he walks out of your show. It’s a television moment. Something of that sort happened last week, when the guardian of right wing Hindutva, Dr. Praveen Togadia walked out of my show. Apparently, Doctor Saheb (sorry for the politically incorrect reference) was irked at the aggressive questioning of the anchor, that he found it difficult to defend his stated public position.

This is not the first time it’s happened to me though. As far as I can remember, the first person to walk out of my show was a retired Air Force Commodore. I think it was the Air Force day or something. We had a special show on it. And just two days prior to that, another MiG 21 had crashed. As usual, I rubbed it in to the Commodore, that the Indian Air Force needed to get its act right. Being the force ka aadmi that he was, he took offence to my questions. The repartees lasted for about five-seven minutes, after which I ended the chat. And this is an old trick. Whenever you’ve pissed off a guest, the best way to end it is by saying.."Mr.X, you have defended yourself very well. It was a pleasure talking to you." And you extend a handshake. At this point, most guests mutter something under their breath and quite limply offer their hand for a shake. Not Commodore Saheb. After all, he was a force ka aadmi. With the straightest of faces, he says.."I’m afraid it was not such a pleasure talking to you, young man." And in one clean motion, rips his lapel mike off his coat, and walks away, huffing and puffing.

Then there are times, when you don’t exactly come out victorious. Like the time Pooja Bhatt made shredded mincemeat out of me, when I interviewed her, on the day of release of one of her movies. The mistake I made (and I promised myself that day, I’ll never do it again) was that I didn’t watch her movie. I still remember my panel producer say to me after the chat.."Arre, yeh tho tumhe seven course meal banakar kha li." Well, that’s the way life is. Sometimes you feel like an emperor, sometimes you end up feeling like shit. Life is a great leveler. And sometimes, a bitch.

A lot of people have asked me, why do you be so aggressive with your guests. I guess the answer lies in what the great BBC anchor, Jeremy Paxman, once said about the guests on his show. “I know this guy is a lying bastard. Why is he lying to me and how do I show the world that he is?” Although I don’t think of my guests in the same slanderous terms, it’s a method of interviewing I have followed. And not everyone likes it. I don’t expect them to either. Sorry Togadia Saheb.

A TALE OF THREE CITIES

Yet another Southern city has been attacked. And the media has gone on its familiar old lament of how the South is becoming a soft target for terrorists. Frankly, as somebody who comes from the South, this reading of the twin blasts in Hyderabad, is not only stale and redundant, it’s yet another classic case of how the media missed the tree for the woods. If only we looked more carefully we would’ve spotted a rather interesting sociological phenomenon emerging within Hyderabad itself. It has to do with the contrasting responses to the Mecca Masjid blasts and the twin blasts on August 25th. But first, you need to know what makes Hyderabad unique to understand it’s differing responses to the two blasts.

Hyderabad is a tale of three cities. Nowhere in India can you see the past, present and future as starkly as you can in Hyderabad. There’s the old city, which is living on the romantic notion of a glorious past. It has the beautiful Charminar and other minarets. Then there’s the present, in ample display in Secunderabad with its cantonment area, the plush malls and also the commercial district. And then there’s the future in Cyberabad, with its gigantic steel and glass IT offices, which represent the contours of an imagined future.

The contrast in these three cities is integral to the definition of Hyderabad. The new city is always in a hurry, on the move, building a future full of possibilities. The old city is stuck in a time warp. Old timers lament about the good old days, when the Nizam used to rule Hyderabad. For them, nothing came closer to utopia than the King’s reign. So while the new city races ahead at Kbps speeds, this part has been largely untouched by the fruits of liberalisation. In these bylanes, you’ll probably hear more Deccani Urdu, than you’ll hear Telugu, Hindi and English put together. You’ll see more practioners of Unani and Ayurveda, than allopathic doctors. Women here wear burqas and not churidars or sarees.

And this is precisely why the responses to the two blasts have been different. When the Mecca Masjid blasts happened, for most Hyderabadis living outside the Old City, it was like any other terrorist attack. It could have happened in Mumbai, Malegaon or Kashmir, for all they cared. But when Lumbini Park and Gokul Chat were attacked, it was like terror had hit home. Suddenly Mana Hyderabad was under attack. These two spots in many ways epitomise the easy going and laidback spirit of the Hyderabadi. And it was this spirit that was attacked. For most people in the Old City, this was the much needed, rude wake up call, to those on the other side that anybody could be a victim to the dogma of terror. That they don’t have to be lone sufferers in this meaningless and misguided battle.

The Muslim community of the Old city has a distinct regional identity. Their food, their dress, even their language sets them apart from fellow Muslims in any other part of the country. When the state of Hyderabad was trifurcated, soon after independence, the Muslims of Marathwada joined the then Bombay state. But they counted for little among the Muslim elite of Bombay who boasted of the likes of Mohammad Ali Jinnah within their ranks. The same happened to those who joined Karnataka. On the other hand, the Muslims of Hyderabad remained in Hyderabad, the seat of their rule. But they remained concentrated in the Old City in a ghetto environment. Their strength in the capital city, and their marginal presence elsewhere in the state, made them convenient pawns in the games politicians played. As a result a Muslim leadership arose in the form of the Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen or the MIM. The MIM established itself as a right of center party and soon started acting like the guardian of the Old City Muslims. It ran schools, hospitals and even community centers. But soon the MIM started being perceived as an elitist party by the poor Muslims. Today there’s a power struggle happening in Hyderabad to control the Muslim mind space. And that has made the politics of the city, shriller. This provides for a perfect cover for anti-national elements owing allegiance to Pakistani or Bangladeshi terror groups to operate behind the veil of patriotic and well meaning Muslims of the Old City. Fact is that Hyderabad is a perfect symbol of how selective the fruits of liberalization have been. Unless the disparities between a majority of the Old City residents and those in the newer parts are reduced, Hyderabad will continue to be a hapless victim to terror.

Fortunately though, there are signs of hope. The walls of the walled city cannot block the winds of change. Today, young Muslim boys and girls of the Old City are eager to have an English education so that they can get good jobs. They want to be in Cyberabad, in plush IT and BPO companies. They want to own houses, buy cars and lead a good life. And for the first time, they can realistically think of doing that without having to migrate to the Gulf. The wheel has come full circle. The Muslims of the Old City have to choose once again between pride in their history and hopes for their future. Question is, will their leadership stand up to the test?

P.S.: A certain Congress MP was overheard in the corridors of Parliament seeking cold comfort from the number of Muslims killed in the twin blasts (nearly half of them are from the minority community). At least, Hyderabad will be spared of riots.