Musings of a Delhi Boy

Written before surgical strikes 2 and the subsequent air skirmishes

Am I pained by the sacrifice of our brave soldiers in the dastardly act which unfolded in Pulwama on the outskirts of Srinagar on 14 th February- the answer is an unequivocal yes. Deeply pained and anguished and saddened. And I am sure, there will be no Indian worth his or her salt, anywhere in the world, who will say otherwise. We are all united in our grief and anger and seek retribution against perpetrators of the crime. Because terrorism in no form has a place in any civilized society and should be crushed with an iron fist.

 But hereon, issues no longer remain black and white, and our bi-partisan attitude shows signs of cracking under pressure.

Because my angst exacerbated manifold, as I watched details of the brave-hearts flash on my television screen, and realised that most of the martyrs- in their late twenties and early thirties- belonged to some of the most backward districts of Rajasthan, UP, Bihar, MP and the traditional states which send troops to the forces like Punjab and Haryana. They had left behind young widows, old parents, dependent siblings and small children (some of the wives left behind were pregnant) – all shocked and numb at the sudden upheaval unfolding in their otherwise humdrum life.

I don’t claim to wear any hat which can put me in the league of genuine or fake (whose numbers is on the rise lately) thinkers. But I do claim to be a fairly well-informed couch potato, so I know that large parts of rural India has been in the midst of what is referred to by experts as ‘agrarian distress’ for a pretty long time now- which, for a layman like me means a lethal combination of debt traps, shrinking land holdings, plummeting incomes and migration into urban ghettos as exemplified by news of regular farmer suicides, which come from across the country. Well, one also doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to fathom that the quality of existing, and generation of new jobs would also be an issue (as is the case in urban areas; all this has been documented by experts-for and against– to require my intervention). These two issues, along with procurement of weapons for our boys in the defence forces, have been the topic of intense debate (and often dirty mud-slinging) between political parties, something which is good for a healthy democracy. But what is the subject of utter contempt and disgust is the manner in which some television channels and media houses use their anchors to make it all seem worse than a gutter brawl.

So herein lies a caveat, in which the human element gets eclipsed!

Without casting an iota of aspersion on the motive of our young men queuing to join the forces in droves, can we, or should we, conclude that love for the nation is the primary and only objective for them in doing so, as some people will have us believe. While those with a limited exposure to education can be excused for toeing this line, and getting carried away in the call for retribution and war hysteria, the loudmouthed drawing room chatter boxes in big cities who want to live their patriotism dream through some poor, rural, jobless youth have no such excuse. They are also the ones at the forefront of giving misguided calls for a full-fledged war with Pakistan (the pitfalls of this foolhardy act have been suitably documented by saner elements to be repeated here). Given half a chance to serve in the forces, they will squirm, and with their tail between their legs will run in the opposite direction from where the battlefield might be.

These guys are only slightly better than the political class.

Because even before the smoke had cleared at the blast site in Pulwama, politicians started a blame game against their rivals within the country. The blame game escalated even as coffins carrying the mortal remains of the fallen heroes were reaching remote villages, and much, much before the thirteen days of traditional mourning were over.

So much for sobriety and piety and desh-prem!

As far as I am concerned, I got a fact check from a grieving mother, mourning the untimely death of her young son in the Pulwama disaster in some remote hamlet, sitting on a charpoy with her old husband, who was holding on to his stick for support and sitting beside her, trying to support her. When asked stupidly, or rather insensitively, by a television reporter whether she had sent her son willingly to join the forces, she replied rather poignantly “No! I had always wanted him to take a job, even a small job in the village, which guaranteed his daily return home. But there was none”. “Kya aap apne chhtote bete ko bhi sena mein bhejeyingi? Will you send your younger son also to join the armed forces?” he persisted shamelessly, expecting an answer in the affirmative, even goading her into answering.

“No!” was her firm reply. It might have been from a sense of turmoil and mental fatigue that she was undergoing at that time, but it did belie a sense of truth.

I had my answer. Service to the nation remains a cause worth emulating for millions of our young men. But then, then, they need other avenues also.

Yes, I am scared!

Because the next day had more horror in store.  Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, and much to the glee of terrorist outfits behind this dastardly act, the din for retribution against perpetrators of the horrible crime against humanity spilled onto the streets of Jammu (which, if reports are to be believed had to be placed under curfew for days on end) and several other cities, to encompass innocent Kashmiris living there, some, even for decades. Even more painful were the cries of action against students, forcing a virtual exodus into Srinagar in the midst of a vital academic session, putting their future and career into serious jeopardy. Those spreading fake news had a field day, as isolated incidents of celebrations in the Kashmiri Muslim community were hyped in mainstream media, out to increase their TRP ratings in an obscenely competitive market, further fuelling the charged sentiments. They all forgot that the community they were collectively demonizing had given the country its only Ashoka Chakra winner this year, posthumously.

Yes, I am scared.

Because with lethal speed, the vitriol got injected into office discussions, (usually full of bonhomie, leaving no space for fence sitters), busy public transport systems, bustling marketplaces and quiet neighbourhoods. Some of my closest friends- whom I thought I knew better than myself- seemed comprehensively indoctrinated, and started using terminology of ‘us vs them’. They started quoting unrelated incidents of stone pelting and the Kashmiri Pandit issues (undoubtedly, equally despicable) to justify the attacks on Kashmiris and their forced exodus- some even going to the extent of willing to take the lead in this endeavour. I was appalled, and scared. Because these were my friends.

Yes, I am scared!

Because last time, in the 1984 anti-Sikh pogrom, which took a toll of thousands of innocent Indian citizens on the streets of Delhi I had been a victim (for a complete description of the events, read my book Dilliz Boyz). That time, the entire community was subject to a wave of unprecedented hatred and suspicion, and their nationalism, and sacrifices, exceptional in service of the nation, were looked upon with doubt and misgiving. This time, although I am not the direct victim- I am still a victim. Because I suffer, when these brave hearts lost their life in Pulwama.  And I suffer when innocent Kashmiri Muslims are targeted in rest of the country. Fight against terrorism. Yes! But suspicion and retribution against innocent Kashmiri Muslims. No!

Because when history repeats itself, it becomes a farce.