Writing on Egypt Again: This is the Beginning

I have stayed away from posting on Egypt in the past few months. There are many reasons for this, but the foremost amongst them is my absolute belief that only the Egyptians have the right to shape their narrative and their futures, and any writing at this point by foreigners distracts from their amazing struggle to sieze control of their own story.

This is really the reason I have not commented on the horrific Maspero violence by the country's military regime. I have also not commented on Maikel Nabil, even though in many ways, for an Indian, he embodies the greatest of our nonviolent traditions and we could take a lesson from him.

However, tonight I feel compelled to write. Not because Egypt's revolution has stalled or 'Arab Spring' has come to a halt (as many western commenters insist, perhaps all too wishfully). I write because I am tired of being asked why there are still protesters at Tahrir; why they are not more concerned with the country's economic development; why the country's activists are still fighting.

I find the questions depressing. Mostly because these questions are deeply imbued with imperialist views of the 'Arabs' and of Egypt. These are questions that assume that some how when the 'difficulties' are over, Egypt's elite (and how Fanonian is that!) will go back to doing business as usual with Europe and northern America. It ignores the possibility that by the time Egypt's revolution is complete (perhaps in a couple of decades), neither Europe nor America will have the hegemonic political or economic influence to even impact its future.

Also for the record, and just in case, here are my answers: the American Revolution would not have stopped when British conceded on tax rates. Neither would the French accept the pre-revolution heirarchies; and the Russians would scoff at the monarchy after their revolutions. The whole point of revolutions is that they leave nothing unturned.

So without appropriating the narrative space the Egyptians deserve for themselves, let me point to two blog posts I wrote earlier this year: one that considered the past, and the other that pointed the way to the future.

And I want to explicitly point out something I firmly believe: historically Egypt, Turkey and Persia have been the oldest and most clear centres of power in the region, and by extension in other parts of the world (especially Europe).  I believe that what we are witnessing is a resurgence of the three, in very different ways and levels. I also believe that the three will find their own spheres of influence and not necessarily go to war - there is little evidence that there is ample 'narcissism of minor differences' to make them compete in bloody ways for that regional power and influence.

This resurgence is all the more interesting (and perhaps possible) because it is occurring alongside the decline of western hegemony: US has shown itself incapable of maturing into history while western Europe is declining  into insignificance after nearly five hundred years of direct and indirect hegemony.

Back in March, I wrote: "In the long term, these convulsions of history are unescapable. They will continue - not on media schedules and not for the next few weeks - but into the next couple of decades as historic changes do!  At the end, those who put short term interests over long term paradigm shifts will find themselves on the wrong side of history."


I stand by that statement and the analysis even more than ever. What we are witnessing is not a blip in time but a massive and extraordinary change.  Not SCAF (Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, Egypt Army's junta) nor USA's paid stooges, nor Saudi Arabia's useful idiots, nor Europe's favourite business boys will be able to withstand the wave that has risen.  And whether the revolutionaries stand or fall, live or die, are incarcerated or free, is immaterial. The change is inevitable. The only choice is the side we choose - within Egypt, and abroad - to stand. 


And this is why it is necessary to note tonight, even as pitched battles rage in Tahrir Square and Alexandria and elsewhere in Egypt, and protests continue to shake up regimes in the region, that the revolution is not over. Not by a long shot!

No matter how much money and weapons (and 'non-lethal technologies') western nations continue to provide their stooges and clients in the region, the balance of power has already shifted. Yes the convulsions of history have not ceased; yes, the changes are incomplete. But there is no going back. It now only about waiting to see where the sands settle - and that is entirely the choice the people of Egypt (and elsewhere in the region). The rest of us are no more than spectators, and if we choose to be on the right side of history - allies.
http://sunnysinghonline.blogspot.com/2011/03/arab-spring-shifting-sands-convulsing.html

A Very Illiberal Phenomenon Amongst European Liberals

This post is an attempt to articulate - instead of fulminate on twitter - a strange phenomenon that I have long observed, often been annoyed by, but never tried to describe: in the past decade of living in Europe, I have found that self-professed 'liberals' - who are actually not liberals but merely left-of-centre ideologues - of this continent have a short-hand for dismissing political, economic, historical and/or cultural views that they cannot refute: simply accuse the person of being 'posh.'

Let me explain what I mean by just one example: a few weeks ago, I was at dinner with friends and was seated next to a Scandinavian journalist, with usual impeccable leftist credentials. We discussed events in the Middle East and North Africa, economic development in BRIC nations, Indian foreign policy and of course, European politics.  I disagreed with much of what he said and was clear in my disagreement, backing each point with relevant information and reasoning. As the dessert course came around, this journalist had run out of convincing arguments for his stance.  So he chose to pull out the final WMD: he pointed out that my views were obviously wrong because I was part of India's elite!  Then, with classic European panache, he backed this statement by asking me my caste.

Fortunately, by this moment, the dinner had come to an end and I left; sadly without tipping the coffee pot over his head. 

Now this was not a particularly isolated event. This sort of conversation happens every few weeks, in various countries, with people of varying European nationalities. In fact, I got into a very similar conversation yesterday which led to a furious rant on twitter (scroll down my TL, if you really must). In fact some gems from yesterday included: a reminder that as Hindu I obviously didn't quite understand the purpose of reincarnation the way a Buddhist would (yes I know!); that I should learn from some well recognised Indian authors (ironically all from extremely privileged backgrounds that I could never even dream of equalling) about the reality of Indian poverty; and finally, my 'elite' situation in India prevents me from understanding the true horror of gender inequality faced by Indian women. Never mind that all these gems originated from members of London's white, economically comfortable, politically powerful, cultural establishment! 

I got to thinking back on the number of times views that discomfit, challenge or refute dominant 'western' (read European/American) public narratives are either excluded from debate or merely dismissed by similar accusations of elitism.  I remembered when listeners of a Barcelona radio programme emailed the host to point out that as I spoke Spanish I was therefore was too elite to understand the "real poverty" in India (never mind, that none of these children of welfare state had ever even been to India!). I remembered the anti-racism activist who breezily commended me on "integrating well" into Europe simply because I wore western clothes and went on beach holidays.  I was reminded of the journalist who patronisingly asked me about India and its obviously brutal desire to build dams that flooded villages and, worse still, precious archaeology sites, simply to fuel economic development. Unfortunately, the frequency and ubiquity of these incidents is such we could be here for an extremely long time.

Yet in these strange interactions, there is a pattern to be found. Very few of the above are right-of-centre. In meetings with journalists from conservative media outlets, I may be challenged to defend a viewpoint, but I have never yet been patronised. In meetings with conservative politicians, thinkers, and academics across the European continent, I have been disagreed with, but rarely have I been dismissed as 'elitist' or 'posh' or even most rudely, 'an upper caste.'  In fact, I begin to think this is a particularly illiberal aspect of Europe's self-professed liberals! 

Of course, the accusations of elitism are absurd when levelled by a historically privileged, white, middle-class man even in the simplest of equations. However, they take on a particularly ridiculous aspect when levelled at someone - like me - who has spent most of her life fighting for the very privileges my accusers take for granted: right to live where and how I want; ability to work at a job that I love; right to be friends and socialise with people without cultural constraints; the opportunity to read and learn and speak my mind.  And yes, even these are privileges that I have fought all my life for: a university education that was made possible only through merit-based scholarships and minimum wage jobs; the opportunity to write - and yes, that too is privilege as I neither have the familial riches nor the welfare state to pay my bills while I pursue my 'creative' ambitions; the very small liberty to pick my own partner or indeed choose not to marry at all.  

Strangely enough, if I were from a truly elite background, born to rich and powerful parents, married to other rich and powerful people, but could spout leftist incoherence about India and the world, and never once challenged the dominant paradigms of the hegemonic narratives, I would be welcomed as a darling of this very European 'liberal' circle. 

You see, my crime - at least in the eyes of western 'liberals' - is the same as that of many millions of Indians (and indeed others of the developing world) who are increasingly climbing past the historical economic and political barriers to claim an equal spot at the table: we are the wrong kind of 'elite.'  Self-made, self-taught, fighters to the core, I and many more like me are elite because we have made our way from scratch. And because we are self-made, we are unfettered by the Fanonian psychological baggage that plagues the old established elites from the former colonies. Because we are self-made, we are not beholden to anyone else for our intellectual, economic or political successes. And we are frightening because we cannot be controlled or indeed patronised. 

In fact, the only way the western illiberal liberal has to deal with this upcoming 'elite' from developing countries is by dismissing us as 'posh' (complete with its not so subtle corollary of de-racination). Ironically enough, as the world changes (and faster every day), even that won't keep us out of the gates and silent for long. 

As for Rushdie and Mistry, so for Gilad Atzmon

UPDATE: The usual Zionist fanatic smear tactics -  i.e, accusations of Nazi sympathies, Holocaust denial and anti-Semitism-  have been applied to me by on-line anonymous cowards. Not surprisingly, these are the same three charges that being flung by the same rabid loons at the writer and musician, Gilad Atzmon and the eminent scholar, John Mearsheimer. Fortunately, Prof. John Mearsheimer has meticulously and very articulately dismantled the outright lies by these fanatics. If you are a Zionist fanatic, you would not care for the truth and need not bother. However, if you are just a regular reader of this blog and are baffled by the current kerkuffle, you may want to read this piece which details and dismantles the hateful lies and concentrated smear campaign conducted by a handful of fanatics with the sole and clear intent to shut down all reasoned debate on Israel.

And the original post: I am beginning to realise that at least once a year, I use this blog to tell off fanatics. So far, it has been Islamist nut-jobs who got offended by my piece on Salman Rushdie. Then some time later, I wrote about Mumbai and Rohinton Mistry and some Hindu fundamentalists (what an oxymoron that is!) were equally offended. Both these links here will take you to what I wrote in those instances.

Last week I tweeted about Gilad Atzmon's new book and that has apparently offended some Zionist club of fanatics. Apparently, according to tweets and blogs and other online fora where these fanatics dwell, my reading of a book by a dissident Israeli brands me an "anti-Semite", a Holocaust denier and/or a Nazi supporter.

Full disclosure: I know Gilad professionally as we share the same literary agent although by no stretch of imagination can we be considered friends. I like his music and respect his writing and political convictions although there are many points of disagreement as well. And we are bound by our mutual respect and affection for Shimon Tzabar, the literary legend and human being par excellence (and one of the few utterly moral people I have had the privilege of knowing). 

What I wrote for Rushdie applies now to the Zionist nut-jobs accusing me of anti-Semitism, and beautifully demonstrating their own narrow-minded, ignorant racism in their comments. I will not repeat all of that piece as you can check the link above if you really care to learn but I will make a specific point.

Of the many Zionist accusations, the one I find most ridiculous is the one where I am apparently 'playing to a Muslim audience.' It shows the ignorance and idiocy of my Zionist accusers who see a brown woman with an exotic name and assume she must be a Muslim. So for the record, let me repeat what I wrote to the Islamist nut-jobs way back when and redirect it to my  Zionist accusers (Aside: hilarious how Anton Block's narcissism of minor differences applies so well to both):

As a Hindu, I grew up in a household where books were kissed (like Rushdie's household). But more importantly, I also grew up in a home where pens, notebooks, and more recently - with typically Hindu logic – laptops are worshipped. Every year on Diwali, you see, we are required to offer prayers to Durga – the goddess of war – and to our weapons that she is believed to embody and inhabit.  In my childhood, my family would clean and polish old swords, spears, revolvers and rifles on every Diwali. And at midnight, these weapons would be placed on the altar and anointed with kumkum, turmeric, ghee. We would conduct an aarti, the polished metal of the weapons gleaming through the fragrant smoke of diyas and agarbattis.

While I was still a child, my grandmother began the tradition of placing our schoolbooks and pens on the altar instead of weapons. She said that in the coming world, these would be our weapons. That tradition endures and to this day, I place my laptop, even draft manuscripts, on the altar on Diwali. It is a tradition I plan to uphold and live for the rest of my life.

The point I am making is simple: keep those threats and hate mails coming!

I am not about to back down from saying what I believe. And I am not about to back down from fighting for what I believe. And I am not – like some writers – about to “self-censor” my writing because some pathetic, cowardly, creature out there may be offended.

This is not about Rushdie or Mistry or Atzmon! This is about my right to words, stories, opinions. And I will be damned if I let go of those without a fight!

A final point to note: fanatics are not only to be found on all ends of the spectrum, but they also show the same lack of imagination when it comes to the depth of their arguments. Good to know that there is a meeting point for fanatics of all ilk somewhere even though its marked by an acute absence of intelligence and imagination.

Lessons Learned and Unlearned: 9/11 Ten Years Later

Ten years ago, I spent most of the September 11, scratching my head and trying to figure out how the assassination of the "Lion of Panjshir," Ahmad Shah Massoud would impact Afghanistan, and by extension, India.  Massoud had been assassinated two days before, and suddenly it seemed that Pakistan-backed Taliban were not only unstoppable but unbeatable.

I spoke that day to a friend, an Afghan refugee who worked on mental health issues for young children, trying to apply his education from Delhi University to people in the refugee camps in India.  At twenty-five, his homeland etched in his memory, yet his upbringing firmly done in north India, he would often hum Manna Dey's famous song, eliding both his longing for Afghanistan and his love for Bollywood in one go.  On September 11, 2001, I remember his desperation at Massoud's killing. "It is over. It is lost. We will never return."

Yet a few hours later, things had changed dramatically. All the channels had the same image of the airplanes flying into the Twin Towers. Although the myriad emotions continued to play havoc in my mind for a very long time (and inspired - and were worked out in - my second novel, With Krishna's Eyes), after those first anxious hours of phoning and locating friends and family, a ritual that follows terrorist attacks that we in India were already so accustomed to, and that the Americans learned on that bright September day, my focus turned back to figuring out the impact of the attacks.

The impact on America appeared clear: even in my years of living there, I had noticed a propensity to extreme positions, with little understanding of the long term consequences. In my twenties, and still a history buff, I had ascribed this American trait to a lack of historic grounding: most other nations have lived through - and more importantly - survived multiple depredations of war, famine, disease. Most of us, around the world, have embedded cultural memories, if that is not too much of a shorthand, of the possibilities of utter destruction; we take moments of peace and calm as anomalies, luxurious ones, but still rare and to be cherished. The US, on the other hand, has had a nearly charmed national life. Despite the hiccups of history, it seems to have eluded the travails that time brings to nations. Until of course you consider that five hundred years are merely a blink of an eye in time.

After 9/11, it was inevitable that US would go to war, all guns blazing. That in itself was a game-changer for Afghanistan. More importantly, for me, considering the impact of the attacks in New Delhi, the American urge for war would also be a huge game-changer for Pakistan.  What, of course, I could not foresee, on that evening of September 11, was the USA's idiotic and entirely self-defeating military action in Iraq.

And perhaps that is the other, unintended consequence of 9/11 that needs to be considered. USA obviously learnt no lesson, except that having achieved predictable sympathy for its military action against the Taliban, it grew quickly drunk on its own might and victim narratology, gave up all veneer of being anything but the newest avatar of imperialism. L'roi est mort, vive l'roi indeed!

Over a year later, as the American drums of war grew louder, the reports of swift but clear erosions of its democratic principles at home and international conventions abroad grew louder, I found myself in a long discussion with a motley group of journalist and analyst friends about USA's apparently unchecked and growing hegemony and the policies India needed to adopt to deal with it.

Since mid-90s as the impact of climate change has become apparent, I have argued that India's greatest challenge in the 21st century shall be an impending refugee crisis as increasing amounts of Bangladesh's low lying lands are swallowed by a rising sea. I have seen this as a creeping issue, reaching catastrophic proportions towards the middle of the century.  (An aside: having consistently analysed Pakistan's nuclear capacities in the past twenty years, I have always believed that India could - in the worst case scenario - suffer a devastating but not a mortal blow. The consequences of such a blow for Pakistan however would be fatal. And this is a completely political, military analysis not an emotional, human one).  However, with the changed global scenario in the aftermath of 911, and the increasing numbers of American projects gaming the break up of Pakistan, I found myself altering the factors, geographically and chronologically.

Even in 2002, it was apparent that Pakistan was rapidly heading towards failure as a state, with a potential break up. The erosion of Saudi Arabia's influence is a given, with the only crucial point being the time scale. It has neither a sustainable economy nor a clear model of human development that can replace its oil-based politico-economic influence in the future. At the same time, despite Pakistan's many apologists in the US, mostly Americans who had benefited from the Afghan-Soviet war, the writing has been clear on the wall.  This artificial buffer state as discussed in details in the Mountbatten papers, declassified by UK at the start of the millennium, has little to sustain it. The issue is not if Pakistan will splinter, but when and how. For India - at the risk of sounding cold - the issue is not of dealing with Pakistan until that date, but working out a strategy for containing the fall out when the inevitable occurs.

While our politicians will meekly declare that "a strong, stable Pakistan is in India's interest," few will go further. The splintering of the state would not only create issues of nuclear weapons falling into hands of various rogue non-state elements (see aside above), but also create a major humanitarian catastrophe. Fact still remains that we abut Pakistan's longest and most accessible border. Can we honestly say we will be able to turn away millions of clamouring civilians fleeing unimaginable violence, hunger and other travails, when Pakistan falls apart? Will we be able to withstand the enormous international pressure brought to bear upon us? And worse still, how would we cope with admitting millions of a people raised in what is mostly a dictatorship, mostly illiterate and brainwashed for three or more generations to hate everything about India? At the very least, we would have to write off all chances of seeing a "shining India" in any shape or form for many decades.

I still hold by this scenario that I sketched out at that discussion nearly ten years ago. The only change I make to it is this: our analysts and policy-makers are still avoiding all thought of it even as the date for facing this challenge grows ever closer, ever faster.  But there are other consequences of that September attack on the US, most unforeseen and not all devoid of hope and grim.

The "Arab Spring" is clearly on the way to disproving the myth of the global ummah as a monolith. As political aspirations drive major changes in the West Asia and North Africa, identities other than religious ones are occupying their rightful space in the political imaginary. This shattering of the simplistic myth of a monolithic global Muslim identity, one that has often meant that bulk of Indian Muslims have been seen as traitors to the Islamist cause by jihadist groups (and yet suspected of secret sympathy by far too many both in India and abroad), is also one that is backfiring on Pakistan. With Saudi Arabia demanding that Pakistan pay the piper with its own troops, Bahrain using Pakistani mercenaries to suppress its own populace, and other countries in the region discovering that religion alone is no foundation for political aspirations (a lesson that we all should have learned in 1971) means long-standing political disputes - internal and external - will need to be negotiated and discussed on different parameters.

The splintering of this monolith shall be most painful for Pakistan. As General Zia once quipped (and I paraphrase): If Turkey stopped being Muslim, it would still be Turkey; if Egypt stopped being Muslim, it would still be Egypt; but without Islam, Pakistan will just be India. The dangers of constructing an artificial national identity based solely on religion, and by exclusion of all else, have never been clearer!

Nowhere is this more important - for India at least - as in the case of Kashmir.  In the past ten years, India has benefited from USA's wars with foreign jihadis ignoring the region to fight elsewhere. Just the figures on ex-filtration of jihadis from Kashmir since 9/11 are evidence of this. This ex-filtration has contributed to the diminishing influence of the Kashmir separatists: each call for bandh has been less likely to be enforced with violence and therefore less likely to succeed; as fear diminishes, voter turn outs have improved and political engagement increases. However, much remains to be done, mostly by the Indian state and polity: a strengthened human rights commission (like the one that produced the recent report on the unidentified graves) is a good start, as is the Truth and Reconciliation Commission proposed by Omar Abdullah.  Other steps need to be taken at centre and state levels which will be discussed in a different post (too many and too long for this one).  However one thing is clear: Kashmir ought to be, now and in future, off the agenda for any talks with Pakistan, or indeed elsewhere. There is no point "negotiating" a resolution with a state teetering on failure,and one that would likely cease to exist in the foreseeable future.

Fortunately, the above two factors - a failing Pakistan and the long term consequences (still many unseen but hinted clearly) of the "Arab Spring" - also point to one last point: it is time for India to grow out of its narrative of Partition. As identities other than religion come to fore, it is time for India to recognise that we need not be held hostage to the narratives of the past century. No where is this more obvious than in Kashmir which ought to be treated as another part of the nation-state and not in quick repeats as a spoilt child, a hostage, or a symbol of the success of our non-religious national identity. As changes sweep through West Asia and North Africa, the urge and need for victim narratives for Islam as well as the efficacies of usual red flags is being steadily eroded.

This provides us - India - a clear opportunity of forging a new national narrative that can move beyond simplistic Hindu-Muslim binaries. The internal political and economic impact of this can be extraordinary, while building on our long standing tradition of secularist polity.  Moreover, this realisation can help us re-forge earlier external links, formulate clearer foreign policy towards West Asia and north Africa, one based on mutual interests and not the fear of an imaginary fifth column within. This also would mean recalibrating our relationships with many nations around the globe, to our own advantage. (Again, too many steps and ideas on this but will write another post soon).

Ten years ago, there a fold in history that impacted all of us. Although much violence and sorrow has followed, it also opened up a moment of extraordinary opportunity, especially for us in India.  If we can sieze it, then when history is recorded, not too many decades in the future, the ghost of Partition would be seen to have been laid to rest on a bright September morning in New York. 

Still Angry at the Hoax. And It is Not Just About Amina

Days after the Amina hoax came to light, and despite the reams of virtual ink wasted by the media on the story, I have found myself feeling furious each time I think of the way the story unfolded.

I got news of the story when it suddenly showed up on my twitter feed, with various activists and journalists being informed that “Amina” had possibly been abducted by Syrian security forces.  I re-tweeted the initial abduction tweet and then checked the blog in question.  And that is where things got messy!

While I am no Syria expert, I noticed some odd details, none of which made the story impossible but did stand out as improbable: “Amina” seemed to have a close, very physically affectionate relationship with her father, with a level of intimacy that seemed unusual. Perhaps, this was the Indian in me – and we share quite a few cultural traits with west Asian cultures – but the idea of a father writing on his daughter’s body – even if it were identifying details to prepare for a demonstration – seemed somehow culturally implausible.  Similarly, the idea of any father standing up to state security in a totalitarian state with impunity seemed fanciful.

The third and to me, most telling detail, was the lack of access and information “Amina” had to and about feminine cultural spaces.  Regardless of sexuality, and very much like India, most west Asian cultures continue to have numerous, intimate, powerful communal spaces for women.  In fact, as a teenager and young adult in New York and Boston, I had experienced this lack of shared feminine spaces as a distressing albeit hard to articulate aspect of culture shock. I still find myself seeking these in Europe, and often find them amongst friends from Africa and Asia, instead of amongst European or American women. As a result “Amina’s” lack of access to women and indeed, her lack of relationship with any women (even her mother) except lovers baffled me.

However, perhaps my own prejudices came through as I decided that these discrepancies were a result of “Amina’s” bi-national identity. Perhaps, I told myself, she was too American, much like the “diaspora” kids we see in India who have little understanding or knowledge of cultural codes.  This sense was heightened as some of the posts reminded me of the old French “harem” paintings, recognisable and yet somehow indefinably fantastic.

Yet I felt also guilty in doubting someone I knew little about. Perhaps it is a measure of my own location – from a former colony, with extensive personal experience as a racially marginalised other in many western countries – that I felt upset by my own doubts.  Accustomed to having my own experience and knowledge doubted and questioned on a regular basis by self-proclaimed “western,” “liberal,” generally white and male experts of India, and especially as I do not fit their accepted colonially-rooted stereotypes of a woman of colour, I felt acutely disloyal at doubting one of the sorority on such grounds.

And here again, is the continuing tragedy of our pasts: the powerful feel no need to question their lack of knowledge; while the historically dis-empowered and marginalised are hesitant to assert what we know to be true!

I also felt particularly hesitant in pointing this out as any doubts expressed about “Amina’s” identity were quickly shouted down on social media. A telling discrepancy showed up here: Arab bloggers and tweeple who were the first to express their doubts were shouted down by “Amina” supporters from Europe and north America. Those doubting her accounts, despite their greater knowledge of the Syrian culture and politics (and great potential risk to themselves as they looked for this fictional heroine in Assad’s prisons) were branded “homophobic” by primarily white liberal supporters from Europe and America.  Ugly prejudices of race trumped any kinship on sexuality, just as feminism(s) of women of colour has been clipped by white middle-class female condescension for decades past! 

Soon after the initial look at her blog, I stepped out of that debate, mostly refusing to comment or re-tweet the hysteria that built around the story. Still, I followed the story, all the while plagued by doubts: had this young woman built so many layers of anonymity that she could not be located? Were the cultural discrepancies intentional as part of the exercise of hiding from authorities? That perhaps she was indeed suffering in some prison and I was being unfair?

And perhaps this is what continues to make me angry about the Amina Hoax:  First, the apparently “new and equal” world of social media replicated the ancient colonialist dynamic of first, locating a cultural informer who fit “western” criteria of acceptability based on what should be long-discarded cultural stereotypes; second, other reliable cultural voices were doubted and drowned out as they neither pandered to nor fit the stereoptype of the reliable cultural informer; and finally, although many from the region (most notably Electronic Intifada) were involved in debunking the hoax, it finally needed western (and white) journalists to provide the weight of credibility to the debunking!

While Macmaster is a rather common example of a particularly reprehensible brand of ideologue and activist, the wider issues mentioned above are far more disturbing as they is go far beyond this particular hoax.  

Edward Said’s daughter Najla Said said her father would think the hoaxer “Tom MacMaster a perfect example of Orientalism itself.”  I can not but agree!  This works on two levels: first, there is little doubt that Macmaster feels he could portray the “subaltern other” better than she could himself, and indeed, shows little remorse or any moral compunction in self-righteously appropriating a trebly marginalised voice – that of a lesbian woman in Syria – despite or indeed perhaps because of his status as a privileged white straight man!

Second, much of the western media – as spiked has point out – actively colluded in the marginalisation of other voices and privileging “Amina’s” over them simply because she confirmed their own prejudices and agendas. (Here, hats off to the handful of dedicated journalists who first debunked the story and have since refused to insert themselves into the story as heroes!)  

While spiked does not mention the imbalance of power linked to race and ethnicity at the heart of the current hoax, this is worth considering.  Much of western discourse about the other continues to be filtered through a series of approved cultural informants, who are chosen not for their accuracy or veracity but for their ability to continuously re-affirm the accepted narratives about the “other.”

A look at a whole range of news stories, novels, films all point to this. The “immigrant” novel, the breathlessly narrated “behind the veil” accounts, the “save the natives from themselves” movies, all contain one or both of the following: a white authoritative privileged narrator whose race alone confers veracity to the account; and/or native informers whose veracity is conferred not by their own ability or story but because of a the white male narrator’s acceptance of it.

It was this dynamic that Macmaster embodies and exploited.  Sadly enough, much of the US and EU mainstream and social media actively participated in his game, and continues to do so.  

Osama bin Laden: What Next for Pakistan

Osama bin Laden was killed earlier this week, a result inevitably determined and irrevocably scheduled on 9/11, although there are many who insist he was on USA's radar well before the destruction of the iconic towers; he may well have been, but on that September morning, his fate was ensured.  That he was killed in Pakistan, in the heart of the country's military establishment, may surprise the naive but seems equally inevitable to someone who not only spent a few years growing up in General Zia's Islamabad but has followed that country closely in the past two decades.

I do not want to go over again over the numerous bits of rumour, political spin and misinformation about the operation that resulted bin Laden's death. Instead, I want to reflect on some of the country's past and perhaps try to glimpse a bit of its immediate future. And for that I go back to a blistering hot summer day in 1980 when we arrived in that country.

For a family used to the rough living of forward camps in India's north-east (one of our homes was a bamboo hut with dirt floors), Islamabad seemed gleamingly modern: wide avenues that seemed to echo Lutyen's Delhi with more than a dash of scenes from American movies.  Rawalpindi and Lahore, however, were similar to crowded, untidy towns from our own side of the border, except that people were either exaggeratedly friendly (something that discomfited me) or erupted into mysterious aggression.  Peshawar was chaotic but friendly and once past the Jamrud Fort - where national government writ did not apply - we felt as safe amongst the Pathan warlords as we would in Indian territory.

Strangely, for a country with two of its neighbours engaged in bloody wars (Afghanistan and Iran) through out the 1980s, with seemingly unending train of refugees pouring into its own impoverished villages and towns, Pakistan seemed single-mindedly focussed on one issue: India. 

It took a long time for me to understand that India posed an existential threat to Pakistan in a way that war on its other borders could not: cleaved from India, the country desperately needed a national  identity that would not only distinguish it clearly from its eastern neighbour but also confirm a sense of self that would not need no reference to India. Unlike most Indians who feel that our shared features are grounds for friendly relations, I learned - thanks to years in Pakistani schools - that those very commonalities threaten the ongoing national project of Pakistani self-hood. 

To ensure this distinct identity, General Zia had, not long before, embarked on a national "Islamisation" programme. The extent and impact of this decades-long national programme is perhaps little understood: with ample Saudi financial support, the programme was meant to steadily construct an "Islamic" national identity, replacing the various streams of the faith and ancient local cultural traditions with the austere Wahhabi version imported from the Gulf.  Over time (and as 30 years of the programme bear fruit now), army and other government institutions were to be populated by these new "true Muslims," with recruitment, promotions, assignments all geared to ensure the gradual cleansing of the old guard who were seen as weak and non-Islamic (and under the new definition, therefore, un-Pakistani enough). 

At the same time, a vast change was brought to the educational curriculum: Pakistan's history was rewritten to highlight its Islamic identity and cleanse it of its Hindu, Buddhist, Jain past. We found a stark example of this at the Takshashila monastery ruins where the government guide insisted that the monks' living quarters were prison cells and the abbotts' rooms - slightly larger than the rest - were the torture and execution chambers. You see, there was no room for Buddhist glory in Zia's newly Islamising nation! None of us who had heard that guide on that day in 1983 were surprised by the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in 2001: Zia's tree was bearing fruit!

Even Urdu - that wondrously hybrid linguistic miracle - suffered the same fate as it was steadily "purified" and words from Sanskrit, Prakrit and other Indic languages were replaced with Arab ones. 

What does all this have to do with Osama bin Laden, you may well ask? Well, this was also the time when Pakistan's Directorate of Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) was increasingly empowered (it had existed since 1948) and with the long-running campaign in Afghanistan - with US support in terms of training and weaponry and Saudi funds - grew in stature. Over time, it also became increasingly strident and a powerful cell within the army, and began to establish itself as a separate centre of power, with vast funds and resources but also able to call on an unofficial cadre of ideologically driven footsoldiers from the jihadist groups it supported, funded, trained and ran. By early 1990s, the ISI was often acting against the wishes and without the knowledge of the main army brass.  At this time, army and civilian governments were often all too happy to claim ISI's successes as their own, even as some expressed reservations in private (Benazir Bhutto was one of these). It is also important to note that over time and given its involvement in Afghanistan, the ISI also became far more imbued with fundamentalist ideology than many other parts of the Pakistan state and populace. 

However, to believe that the army is some how "liberal" is a mistake: three decades of Zia's "Islamisation" have ensured that it also fully partakes of the fundamentalist ideology. There is, however, a basic difference: Pakistan's army also has impressive economic assets and political power; it also is cognizant of the need for working with the rest of the government - even the much-derided politicians - and is circumspect about maintaining its status quo.  This leads the Pakistan army to often make what may seem like "compromises" in the national and international arena, although it must be noted that the institution has been very effective in ensuring that civilians and politicians take the fall for these necessary "compromises." One notable exception to this has been Gen. Musharraf who was eased out with a gentleness that Pakistan's army can only extend to  its own.

With this backdrop in mind, it is worth looking back at the past ten years (although the Kargil fiasco is also a factor in these internal power games). Pakistan's army and civilian government have attempted to walk a very fine line: unable to check the ISI-jihadi bloc, it has attempted to maintain a facade of "alliance" with US and others in the post-9/11 "war on terror," while trying to curtail some of ISI's influence. Unfortunately, ISI (and some parts of the larger army) have shown little interest in the longer term, economic and political interests of the nation. Instead, still convinced that it - not geopolitics - defeated Soviet Union with the fabled "death-of-a-thousand-cuts," it believes it can continue unchecked: the various attacks in India, including the 2008 Mumbai ones as well as its continued machinations in Afghanistan and the country's own tribal areas, are an evidence of its convictions.

Sadly, Pakistan's policies of the past thirty years are ripping it apart today: army with its collaborating wing of civilian polity is increasingly facing a network of terrorist groups backed, funded, armed and often manned by direct and indirect members of the ISI.  This is one answer to the mystery of who the US informed (and didn't inform) and who all in Pakistan government establishment knew about bin Laden's whereabouts!  Given the situation in the country, it is likely that various parts of Pakistan's army, ISI and other goverment agencies knew different bits of information and received varying briefings. Unfortunately for Pakistan (also ultimately for bin Laden), although fortunately for the US, these various Pakistani factions are acting against each other!  

So what happens now? Terror attack warnings have already gone out across the world. There is little doubt that various groups ideologically linked to Al-Qaida will attempt to avenge his death. There is also the issue of succession to bin Laden, although he was - at time of his death - more of a symbol than a major leader of any jihadist terrorist group. However, the top spot is now available to whole array of successors and succession wars will mean that each heir-apparent will attempt to stake his claim by staging competitively spectacular attacks. 

Another aspect to consider is the timing of the operation: by most reliable accounts suggest that US had suspicions about bin Laden's location at least as far back as 2008. It also appears that they knew "almost certainly" by middle 2010 that he was at Abbottabad. It is worth keeping in mind that operations of this kind require a few months of planning, which means they would only ready by the first quarter of 2011. 

However, killing bin Laden would have yielded greater electoral benefit for Barack Obama later in the year, once the campaign had begun to heat up.  So why now? Did US fear that bin Laden would be tipped off by one side in Pakistan's internecine rivalry and escape again? But then given that last three presidents have failed, that would hardly have been a major disaster. Or did the US feel it was being rendered irrelevant to the Middle East by the events of the Arab Spring and killing bin Laden would symbolically help them assert a military, if not political, power that most of the world believes is waning? No doubt there shall be more answers in the next few weeks as more information emerges. 

However, here are my some of my predictions:  in the next eighteen months, we shall see increased violence within Pakistan as the army-civilian establishment goes up against the ISI-jihadi alliance.  The former will be attempting to salvage what is possible of the national cause while the latter will not only be driven by revenge but an increasing threat to their very survival (The Arab Spring also impacts financing and support of Islamist groups by regimes who are increasingly fighting fires on their own home-fronts).  I do not envy the average Pakistani citizen who will be caught in the cross-fire of this "informal" warfare. 

Arab Spring: Shifting Sands, Convulsing History

During the Egypt uprising, one reporter after another repeated the same mantra: the barrier of fear had been broken. And yet, once Mubarak stepped down and the media eye moved elsewhere, that mantra has not been heard nearly as often.

However in the month since Mubarak's downfall, there is ample evidence that the barrier of fear has indeed been broken. Along with that loss of fear, other walls have come tumbling down: of shame, false pride, hypocrisy: as Egyptians stormed the offices of secret police, people re-lived their torture, keen to explain and share.  They stepped inside torture devices to demonstrate the pain and humiliation they had experienced.  Men who had been raped as part of the ritual shaming by secret police spoke of their ordeals, often with heart-breaking humour mingled with awe-inspiring strength.  Young women detained, sexually assaulted and tortured by the Egyptian army have recorded and publicized their testimony in the past month, a cultural shift that is nearly cataclysmic in its symbolic and narrative worth: the shame is not of the victims but of the torturers who thought that rape and sexual assault can brand women as whores!  This is a courage of no small order!

The barrier of fear has also been broken in other parts of the region: Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, Iraq, even the brutally oppressive Saudi Arabia and Syria are seeing unrest by ordinary people with extraordinary courage. The penalty for demanding basic human dignity by these young protesters is the use of tear gas, nerve gas, and even live ammunition at the demonstrations.  Moreover, the regimes are institutionally well-entrenched, identifying the key protesters and leaders, hunting them down, arresting, torturing and killing them beyond the eyes of the cameras.  That makes even the reporting of these protests and human rights abuses by the regimes acts of courage that few of us can begin to imagine.

As an aside, and once again, it is important to point to the involvement of women in these movements. And no, none of them fit the western feminist paradigms although they do echo many of the earlier (pre-colonial) traditions of women warriors and leaders in the region itself.  They are indicators that  it is time for new paradigms, and not only for nonwhite, non-western feminisms!

New paradigms are needed not only for feminism, but also for definitions of statehood, political franchise, strategic relations, political and cultural narratives.  We are in the midst of historic times where none of the old models and certainties can hold.

So what next?

It is obvious that the Arab Spring is not about to come to a standstill.  Despite media warnings and ponderous, well-paid analysts from big name think-tanks, these movements do not look to be dying down. Yes, Bahrain is being brutally crushed by a combination of sectarian political tactics, Saudi and GCC troops, and the regime's own mercenaries from Sunni majority countries. Yes, Libya has gone into armed conflict and international (some would call it western as if the UNSC resolutions and Gaddafi's killings of civilians never happened) intervention. Yes, Saudi and Syria appear to be brutally suppressing their own uprisings.  And yes, Yemen at the time of writing this has lived through a Bloody Friday and moving towards a coup or regime change (only time will tell).

Yet none of the events unfolding fit the currently existing theoretical and political models: Hamas and PL both cracked down on the youth demanding a united Palestinian front. Syrians are out in their thousands to demand change even as Vogue writes glowing articles about the dictator's "democratic" home and fashion plate wife (Hang on to that issue: it will be the equivalent of a praise piece for Marie Antoinette for our times; a true historic artefact!)  Morocco's king seems to be trying to outrun the breezes of Arab spring while Oman seems to be veering madly between reform and deep regime freeze.  Saudi kingdom has once again tried to buy off its population, a measure that seems almost sure to fail.

However, despite the specificities of history, culture and circumstance, the region is tied by a crucial commonality: the fear of regimes seems to have melted. The youth - often educated, disenfranchised, yet politically focussed, are stepping up to demand all the same privileges many in the western world take for granted: security, rule of law, a voice in their own lives and future, opportunity and human dignity.

Of course, many are facing apparently unsurmountable difficulties: the regimes are heavily armed by western weapons, often supported politically and economically by western powers.  Many have deep financial links with the "new global elite" who have little interest in welfare or even fate of the common people. Moreover, for decades, financial and geo-strategic interests have generally trumped human rights. That - I have said before - has been a short-sighted strategy especially on part of the western nations who at least talk of human rights. It is understandably a product of centuries of colonial thinking on part of Europe and by extension the US (and in a limited way, Russia).  Now, with the first breeze of Arab Spring, the lacunae in that policy lie exposed.

There is no stopping the change occurring in the region. Although there may be setbacks, brutal crackdowns, even temporary freezes in the uprisings, we stand at the beginning of a long process of historic change. Most importantly, none of it is really controllable by foreign powers, regardless of their financial, political and military interests. Just as Egypt and Tunisia threw off their dictators by themselves, and are continuing to stumble and struggle on the path to political growth on their own, the rest of the countries shall do the same.

An intervention - as in Libya - may be of temporary help but it is necessary to note that even the opposition council there has insisted that they be allowed to make the change for themselves. This is a key factor to keep in mind: assistance will be welcome (as has been the case in Libya) but the old colonialist paradigm of "saving people from themselves" is a long buried ideal.

It is also worth noting that it is not only western states who are unable to grasp, manage and react to these historic shifts. As the UN resolution on Libya demonstrated, India and Brazil are too tied their own postcolonial histories to be able to see into the future.  Russia and China have also reverted to knee-jerk "west vs rest" divisions, driven of course by their own business and political interests, although these seem shortsighted.

Unfortunately, in not too far future, all nations will have to choose whether their strategic goals match the new realities emerging in the region.  This means emerging powers like Brazil and India will need to decide whether an instinctive anti-western, postcolonial reaction still holds strategic value, or should they attempt to bring their decisions in line with the emerging realities of the region.  Both will have to decide whether they want to play postcolonial victims or take their rightful place in the future as political and economic powerhouses, especially as the latter comes with great responsibility.

As Libya shows, international lines are increasingly blurred and the only real way out is to actually LISTEN to the people: this is a lesson not only for the dictators in the region but also the international community that has long listened to dictators, tyrants and tottering monarchies instead of the people.

In the long term, these convulsions of history are unescapable. They will continue - not on media schedules and not for the next few weeks - but into the next couple of decades as historic changes do!  At the end, those who put short term interests over long term paradigm shifts will find themselves on the wrong side of history.

What the international community needs to do is to find a fragment of the courage displayed by the common people of the region and just learn to let go of old prejudices and paradigms.  It is a brave new world coming our way and while those in the region must live through the convulsions of history at great cost to themselves, the least the rest of us can do is to face them and the changing reality with new models of culture, power, and narratives.

New Short Story Now Out in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine

Just a very quick note to say that the new issue of the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine carries my short story, The Wait.  They have been very sweet and described it as "memorable."  I just hope that it helps keep the story of the Indian PoWs who were never returned by Pakistan after the 1971 war in our collective memory.

Do look it up if you have a chance.

Politicians Wasting Parliament (and the taxpayer's) Time: Reposted

As part of the ongoing process of salvaging some of my old blog posts from www.sawf.org, I found one that seems particularly apt given the political drama/farce once again unfolding in India.  Sadly enough, this post was written in 2001, entire decade ago which makes it even more depressing!

A bit of context: I moved back to India in 1995 after living and working abroad and thus got my first taste of Delhi as a weird mix of a phoren-return (a rarity in those days), a UP-ite and having never lived in the capital. Because of family, friends and work, I got to see the workings of that city and how much of it is based on lies. Media, politicians, business, activists all work hand-in-glove no matter what image they present to the aam-aadmi.  The post below was a combination of disgust at what I observed as well as a belief I still hold: that truth shall set us free, that the young people of India are its future, and things can be changed.  I repost this not to depress the readers but more as a reminder of how far we still have to go:


2001: Most days when you switch on the TV, you find politicians bickering away at each other. So you can imagine my surprise when I found politicians of various parties in complete harmony, agreeing with each other, supporting each other's arguments, presenting a picture of complete bonhomie. 

Of course, if you watch DD's broadcast of parliamentary proceedings (which I do, as a particularly nasty example of reality TV), you would know that such bonhomie isn't quite extraordinary. Seconds after staging dharnas, storming the wells, and screaming themselves hoarse, and moments before the cameras are switched off, the opposition and treasury benches have been spotted backslapping like the best of friends. The surprise, therefore, wasn't that they were all "langotiya yaars" beyond the camera lights, but that they were willing to show it on international and national television.

I suppose, the issue at hand has to held responsible for such a public demonstration of affection. You see, the politicians on TV were all justifying the need for voting a huge pay increase for themselves. And that, we all know, is an issue that cuts across party-lines and unites our political classes ever so much better than a national crisis or calamity.

"We get paid Rs. 4,000 a month," said one MP, "and we are required to maintain two homes, one in the capital and the other in our constituency." This was a particularly favoured explanation for the MP pay increase. Even the younger politicians, ranging from Arun Jaitley to Omar Abdullah came up with the facetious reasoning that "improved pay packages will make MPs more honest." On one show, Renuka Chowdhary, the party-hopping fireball explained that "MPs should be paid at least as much as a Joint Secretary. After all, our children need to go to school too." Touching logic, if only it held water. For three basic reasons: 

• one, because the official pay package forms a small part of the remunerations, legal and illegal, that MPs receive; 
• two, because greed has no limit and raising the pay package even up to 12,000 will do little to support the lifestyles adopted by many of our MPs; 
• and three, because a Joint Secretary is actually required to do some work for the benefit of the nation and people, which MPs never do.

Starting with the first point, the Government of India foots the bills for MPs transport, housing, telephone and other utilities. Party coffers assist with other perks. The government also provides each MP with funds to develop their constituencies, very little of which actually reaches the people it is intended for. Finally, there are a number of other "donations" that MPs receive from private and corporate sources. In ten years of being the Chief Minister of Bihar (a proxy one for some of that time and an MP of the Lok Sabha as well), Laloo Prasad Yadav has amassed wealth that confounds the most ambitious among us. This champion of the "down-trodden" declares that property worth crores of rupees is "inherited" from his ancestors (yes, the very same poverty-stricken ones who suffered for the proverbial do bigha zameen). Ironically enough, Laloo's property today outstrips many folds that of the largest upper-caste zamindarsin the same state.

Even a better case in point is that of Phoolan Devi, who was killed in the very same week as my father retired after a long career with the central government. Her property - self-acquired - is estimated in crores, and all of it has been acquired in the last ten years of her political adventure. Meanwhile, my father - after forty years of honest, honourable, and sometimes dangerous, service to the nation - has little but personal pride to show for his efforts. And lest we forget the argument offered by our MPs, my father earned more money - per month - than the MPs.

Which brings us to the second point: will a three-fold increase in pay really make MPs honest? Living in Delhi has been a real education for me. And the lessons have been simple: most politicians live life King-size, and all checks and balances be damned. Starting with flashy cars, satellite phones, and watches worth a few lakh of rupees, there is hardly an MP who can be said to represent the poorest of the poor in this country. Lavish weddings, iftaar parties and "party meetings" bely the MPs' current claim that they are short of cash. While on the topic, let us not forget the foreign holidays that are paid for by the taxpayer's money (the same taxpayer who - in many cases - cannot afford monthly trips from Delhi to Bhatinda).

Experience shows that larger pay packets do not prevent greed. If that were the case, we would live in a highly simplified, moral utopia. Past fifty years of history show that politicians who cannot be corrupted - ie, Lal Bahadur Shastri, - manage to avoid greed, despite having unlimited riches within their grasp. Others - and the Nehru-Gandhi family is a good example - are corrupted to such a level that no amount of wealth (or tragedy) can sate that ever-burning need for more. After all, as the Hindi proverb says, once the lion tastes human blood, it turns into a man-eater. And that is exactly what has happened to our political classes: easy black money has spurred them on to greater heights of greed and corruption.

Now we get to the final point: what is it that our MPs do for us that we need to pay them more out of the tax payer's pocket? There has been an argument made in the past that India works despite its government. In the past half-decade, and with the help of liberalization, this statement has travelled far toward becoming a fact. India is now slowly moving towards a stage where the government is becoming increasingly superfluous in the daily lives of most of its citizens.

And in part, the politicians themselves are to blame. The bulk of this year's budget session was devoted to clamours of resignation by the opposition instead of informed, rational discussion of the budget proposals. The budget was finally passed with only the most cursory of discussions. During that session, the treasury benches had protested the disruption of parliamentary proceedings.

The current parliamentary session has again seen disruptions of parliamentary proceedings, where the house has been adjourned for hours on end and sometimes, even till the next day. This time, the treasury benches are carrying out the disruptions while the opposition has been protesting such "unparliamentary" behaviour.

And just for the taxpayers' information: each day of the parliament session costs the country approximately 2 crore rupees! And the new proposal for MPs' salary hike will cost the nation approximately 23 crores more every year. The question before the nation is simple: Should we pay these MPs more to stage high cost, low quality tamashas and nautankis?

There is one possible solution: For each day that the parliament is disrupted, the disruptive MPs must be made to pay a fine. After all, if each working day of a parliament session costs 2 crores, it is easy enough to calculate the cost of each wasted minute. And let us fine the party (since these disruptions are pre-planned and sanctioned by the party chiefs) not the individual members.

So if a party's members rush into the well and hold up proceedings for ten minutes, let the responsible party foot the bill for those ten minutes. If the parliament is forced into adjournment by disruptions, let the party foot the bill for the entire day. At the end of the session, let the collected money from these fines go back to the tax-payer. This does not mean handing it back to the exchequer, or development agencies that do little, or even NGOs who may be manipulated by their governmental links. Instead, let the income from this "disruption" fine go into providing across the board income tax relief.

Let our MPs put such a proposal into practice first. Then, perhaps, we can talk about giving them pay raises.

Walk down Lucknow's Memory Lanes: Reposted

Thanks to a twitter exchange about Lapata's beautiful post on Lucknow, I was reminded of a long-standing task. I used to write for the apparently suspended www.sawf.org many years ago and have been promising myself that I would salvage some of the posts from there for my own blog.  Thanks to the exchange today, I re-post my piece on my memories of Awadh:

In my mind, Lucknow stands for the delicious fragrances of ripening Dussheri mangoes, the subtle flavours of melons and the fragile elegance of chikan work. Of course, Lucknow has a lot more for the tourist, but then I was never a tourist there - my association with the city dates back nearly three decades.

Back in the old days, Lucknow exuded a faint aroma of localized power, layered with the famed adab. Everyone was excruciatingly polite and elders spoke in hushed, horrified, tones of the deteriorating decorum in Vidhan Sabha (State Assembly). And while the Lucknow-wallahs may prefer to forget the presence of the latter in their midst, the building is one of the most interesting examples of Raj architecture. In fact, Lucknow is an architecture-buff's delight. Subtle elegance distinguishes the havelis in Malihabad, the Imambara, the gateways, and the Governor's residence, despite the difference in historical periods and architectural styles. The famous La Martiniere school hearkens back to an era of knife-edged trouser creases and scones with tea, whereas the exquisite turn of the (last) century buildings of the Lucknow University campus would make for a fantastic architectural tour, were they not so sadly decrepit.

While Chowk is the standard tourist spot, Lucknow insiders Lahtoosh Road for the real atmosphere. With old shops selling every possible thing under the sun, the atmosphere is similar to that of Delhi's walled city. Tucked behind a mass of junk, discarded furniture and bicycles, shops enjoy decades of loyal family patronage. Decades ago, Hamid bhai, who sends us lovely biryani on Eid, used to mend my bicycle with the same care that he fixed my uncle's in the decades before then. Now, Hamid bhai's son works under the father's eagle eye on my cousin's motorcycles and my nephew's tricycle. (Updated: It is a measure of changes in India in the past decades that his grandsons have different ambitions and education albeit the same soft-spoken Urdu).

Near Chowk is Tunde's kebab shop, famous amongst tourists and locals alike. However, for juicier, softer, incredibly scrumptious kebabs, stand before Tunde's hole-in-the-wall and veer left to the unmarked, smoky shop next door. You'll find that this no-name, no-fame shop serves up infinitely better fare than Tunde's flaunted food.

One bit of unseemly architecture that most Lucknow-wallahs would gladly bypass is the Parivartan Chowk round-about - only if it weren't so difficult to do so, should you wish to get to the heart of the city. Just beyond it, however, is the Begum Hazrat Mahal Park where the Begum of Awadh declared war against the British in 1857. To this day, the park continues to be the main site for political rallies and demonstrations. For the picturesque glimpse it affords into the dynamics of Indian democracy, it merits a visit.

Lucknow's intrinsic links with the dynasties at Delhi can be seen in the city's numerous gardens, the most interesting being Safdarjung Gardens, named after its founder. Located on Ashok Road, this park reflects the Islamic style of formal gardens adapted to India and now serves as a favourite spot for romantic trysts.

Lovers also gather at Hazratganj Road for more sanctioned activity. Originally called the Queen's Way and open only to British carriages, the road now serves as a late night drag racing strip for daring teenagers. Lined with shops, some of which date back to the Raj, Hazratganj is the favourite place to shop for clothes, handicrafts, furniture, antiques and souvenirs. Hazratganj is also a good place to eat and the best choice is chaat seller near the Lee Cooper showroom. So fascinated was he with Lucknow's graciousness that he moved permanently from Mumbai or Calcutta (the story changes with each visit). In addition to whipping up a range of delicious chaat-stall cuisine, his speciality basket-chaat-dahi-tikkis seved up in an edible bowl made of what look like fried-up falooda.

Some of the old shops in Hazratganj stock the famous Lucknow chikan work. While the newer boutiques present fashionable twists on this traditional embroidered linen, the older shops are the best bets. Apart from the kurtas and salwar suits, some of the old families also manufacture bed-linens, tablecloths and lehengas in this distinctive style. Of course, if you want chikan work or other exquisite embroidery created on demand, the best bet is somewhere in the streets of Aminabad, where some of Lucknow's oldest families of artisans produce sophisticated linens and trousseaus on request.

At Nishatganj, shops do brisk business in the shadow of a massive flyover. The right place to buy leather goods from neighbouring Kanpur at throw away prices, the area is also a sale point for quality bhang. And during the day, bookies do good business under the flyover - whether it be a lottery ticket or putting money on an Indo-Pak cricket match or the football face-off in the European League. Surprisingly international and slick, the bookies here are bet crazy. Bring a three-legged horse, a toad that can jump or a motorcycle with a souped-up engine, and you'll pick up more bets in five minutes than in an hour in Las Vegas.

The nearby Gol Market harbours the Ritz Sweet Shop, which provides the world's best moti-choor ke laddoo (take my word as a pukka Banarasi) and amazing dahi-tikki-chaat. The kulfi-falooda here is a daily staple for me whenever I am in the city.

History-buffs head for the Residency, on the outskirts of the old city where British residents were besieged and bombed in one of the worst battles of 1857. The bombed-out ruins in the massive park-cum-corest, the antique guns and cannons that protected it are still visible. One of the buildings has been restored into a small museum and someof the rooms are furnished in the Raj fashion. A small beautiful English cemetary is a chilling reminder of that war.

As children, the Residency was our favourite picnic destination. Long ago, we memorized Subhadra Kumari Chauhan's stirring poem, "Jhansi-wali Rani", here and the lines took on special resonance amongst the ruins. The Residency's extensive overgrown grounds hide many secrets in the form of gravestones, ruins and remnants of old garden trellises. Hidden arbours and clearings make it an ideal place to spend the day.

Thirteen kilometres away from Lucknow, the sleepy hamlet of Kakori is the birthplace of the delectable Kakori kebabs (and of course, the Kakori train robbery by Bhagat Singh and friends).  According to legend, Siraj-ud-Daullah had his chef beheaded because one of his guests complained that the kebabs were too tough. So the chef's assistant took upon himself to improve the cuisine. He marinated the meat overnight in hollowed out pineapples, thus giving birth to the soft Kakori kebabs. Incidentally, this is the only place in Lucknow where kakori kebabs can be found.

Lucknow moves to a slower pace than most cities of its size and a good way to spend an afternoon in at the maze of Burra Imambara. Possibly an erstwhile venue for decadent Nawabi orgies, for a traveller the maze provides a taste of chills and thrills the old fashioned (pre-Jurassic Park) way. Sunset over the incredibly symmetry of the adjoining buildings is a mrvellous conjunction of the best man and nature can offer.

Come nightfall and the perfect Awadhi evening requires a trip to the ancient Carlton Hotel. This refurbished haveli offers a taste of sumptuous Awadhi cuisine in an ambience redolent of languid Nawabi nights. Ghazals and thumris play over the immaculate gardens and soft lights make the haveli glimmer. The best place to dine is outdoors, where old torcehs light up the night. Sit back, sip a beer, bite into a succulent kebab and soak in the mellifluous thumri wafting over the fragrant Malihabadi breeze. Now you are really in the Lucknow of the Awadhis.


Warning: I have left much of the post unchanged from when it was first written, providing only two minor updates. 


Full disclosure: A large chunk of my first novel Nani's Book of Suicides (2000) was written in Lucknow. I still have great memories of that period. 

A Different Angle to Women Reporting on Conflict:Beyond Lara Logan

I must start this piece with a disclaimer (Usual readers: you'll see why this is necessary): At no point do I support or condone sexual violence towards or harassment of Lara Logan or any other journalist or indeed professional trying to do her job.  This piece is NOT about the sexual harassment/violence that women journalists face but rather of the "whitewashing" of the issue in the debate following the much publicized attack on Logan.

As a kid in India, I had family and friends who were/are journalists. Some of these are women. They covered riots, wars, crime, the Union Carbide gas tragedy. They were true heroines and my inspiration.  Growing up in India, writing fiction was not a viable career choice and I always thought that journalism was a respectable, even noble, second option.  Not surprisingly, after finishing my BA, I took up journalism. I worked as a reporter, editor and free-lancer off and on for fifteen years in all sorts of places in Africa, Latin America, India, on stories that ranged from culture to business to human rights abuses.  And I used those skills for a range of media driven organisations: state-owned, private corporation and advocacy groups.

What I learned in those years of reporting convinced me that just as the feminist theories of universal sisterhood had meant the silencing of non-white female experience, the same holds true for the practice of journalism.  Outside India, many of my colleagues were drawn from an internationally motley group, primarily made of Europeans and north Americans.  Most were male. Like many women reporters, I had to work twice as hard to get the "tough" assignments, to prove myself as capable as the men.

But I had a second disadvantage: I also had to prove myself better than the white female reporters. You see, despite self-avowedly "liberal" milieu of the typical international newsroom, an implicit hierarchy still exists. The liberalism of my editors and colleagues meant they pretended to be blind to my race while continuing to assign stories that demonstrated their racist assumptions. And no, I will not go over instances of the prejudice simply because this post is not a whine or a rant!

The colour-blindness played out more oddly at the level of colleagues.  My white male colleagues, for most part, would deal with me without the sexual charge that often informed their interaction with white female reporters. So in a way, my skin colour gave me the added benefit of being sexually invisible as well with the result that I could drink and "hang" with the boys and swap tips without any of the "baggage" that marked similar interactions for my white female colleagues.  This had its good and bad: I developed a great network, felt less sexual pressure, and felt no need to "out-tough" the guys. The bad side was that I felt invisible, was treated by many white female colleagues as the male "runt" of the press club litter and often dealt with visible contempt.  Crossing of race and gender ensured that I was always the outsider.

Yet the same qualities gave me a strange edge while in the field. Even as most Latin Americans recognised me as a foreigner, my dark skin provided a strange protection: identified clearly as not linked to the social, economic, political and military power structures (ie EU/UK/US), and people spoke to me with greater ease.  In Africa and parts of Asia, my Indian-ness was and still is recognised and generally greeted with great affection, something for which I have to thank Nehru's foreign policy and Bollywood films.

Time and time again, locals have stepped in to assist, protect and inform me in ways that were not available to my white colleagues, regardless of gender.  Moreover, my skin colour ensured that I could blend into the crowds in a way white colleagues could not; and sometimes that tiny fig leaf is greater protection than any one can hope for.

There is a more complex aspect to this. Another sort of sexual invisibility protected me in crowds: People often forget that sexual harassment and violence is mostly about power not desire.  Whiteness is an indicator of historic power disparities in many parts of the world (read Fanon, Said, Shohat for the complex arguments of these issues) even though many of us choose to deny or ignore this.  White women thus become symbols of a larger historic imbalance of power than their individual selves, a factor in many of the cases of sexual harassment that not only women reporters but also average travellers face.  In contrast, my colour gives me an unexpected advantage: harassing me provides little redress for historic grievances.  Not surprisingly, I meet camaraderie and respect in places where my white female friends and colleagues only find aggression and harassment. It is an advantage that I have been always been grateful for, though I have done little to win it.

Finally, perhaps there is also a cultural education angle to this. Unlike most of my European and American women friends and colleagues, I have grown up with an acute awareness of power imbalances between genders. There is also greater awareness of cultural codes with clear sense of covering one's body and/or head if necessary without major ideological agenda.  This translates to clothing, body language, even reporting techniques. Even at my most aggressive, I am/was aware of potentially transgressing cultural norms and made subtle adjustments as needed.

This too is a gift - however ambivalent - of growing up in India where we adapt and adjust as needed.  It may also be a result of a postcolonial heritage which has never granted me the privilege of cultural, racial even gendered arrogance/naivete that I often see amongst many European and Americans.  For example, unlike Sabrina Tevernise, I would never assume that walking into an empty hotel and encountering a man would be anything less than risky, regardless of the part of the world. That too is a complex negotiation of culture, race, gender and history!

As a nonwhite women journalist, I recognise that I occupied a strange space when covering international stories. Without ever being told so explicitly by my employers, I knew that my "value" was lower than that of my white female colleagues. And while things have changed in the past decade with increasing number of nonwhite women reporters working for mainstream media, many of the experiences and issues I mention here have not drastically changed as long as one works for a western media outlet.  In frankest of terms, this means that I always recognised that I made less of a story than my American or European colleagues would (For those who question it, compare the media inches granted to Logan vs the temporary detentions of Sonia Verma the Indo-Canadian reporter or Al Jazeera's Sherine Tadros in Egypt).  This knowledge informed the risks I took as well as the professional decisions I made.

At the same time, I and other nonwhite reporters can access people and places that many "western" journalists can not, regardless of gender. And that is an advantage that few media outlets can ignore, especially as the power balance shifts away from the traditionally western centres of power. 

Perhaps, to reference Toni Morrison, it is the privilege of whiteness (or lack thereof).  I confess that I have used it to my advantage, as have many other women journalists from Latin America, Africa, Asia.  I also have to admit that it has worked to my disadvantage, although more at institutional rather than human/individual levels. 

As Kim Barker astutely noted: "Without female correspondents in war ones, the experience of women there may only be a rumour."  That is indeed true. But to whitewash the ways in which race and culture inform not only women reporters' functioning but also the response they receive is to be equally ingenuous as maintaining a silence on the issues of sexual harassment and violence.  

I hope these thoughts capture some of my own reactions to the debate triggered by the Lara Logan incident. I write in hope of giving voice to a set of women (and very able professional reporters) who are again being whitewashed from a narrative historically dominated by white middle-class women who position their own experience as universal; in making such a whitewashed case, and with greater access to mainstream western media, they also once again silence many of us who share their gender but not their race.

Update: Eyewitness accounts from Tahrir contradict the CBS statement on Lara Logan incident making my impression of Orientalist narrative that evolved around her even stronger. 

Missing Edward Said: Some Thoughts on Egypt's Youth Uprising

Like most people, I too have been caught off-guard with the events in Egypt since January 25, 2011. For years, I have been following global events, analysing and at times writing about them. For example, I made a case for the shift of power to the east nearly fifteen years ago, when India was still stumbling unsteadily into globalisation. It has been gratifying to note that I was right!

But despite following events for the past two decades, I have to confess, I got Middle East wrong! I believed that once the power of US and Europe had shifted to the east, and the pernicious postcolonialist influences exercised directly or indirectly by Europe and US diminished, Middle East would find its feet. Mistakenly, and perhaps with a dose of cultural arrogance of my own, I believed that the region would find its historical sense of self once China and India regained their postcolonial importance.

My analysis based itself on one primary factor: culture and cultural production of a society, and its ability to control and shape its own narrative. I believed that as literature, art, music, film were so tightly controlled, that as mass scale cultural production was not happening at a large enough scale, in a free enough environment, the Middle East would not be able to shake off its postcolonial burden of an identity thrust upon them, of the Orientalist narratives of political apathy, autocracy, religious fanaticism, poverty, fecklessness.

A disclaimer: I know there will be political and economic analysts who will write more knowledgeably than me on those factors, but I am more interested in longer historical cycles, in ways in which deep-rooted cultural identities are reformed, reshaped, and revived constantly, consistently and repeatedly. Perhaps that is why I have been thinking of the great scholar Edward Said, and wishing repeatedly that he were alive to see the way his region has risen up to definitively shatter the narrative of Orientalism.

And yet the signs that perhaps a different cultural production was going on in the region were there to see. By this, I do not only mean the various Arab language TV channels, including of course Al Jazeera. I mean a larger, almost invisible, popular culture in which the region's population has been participating: the digital one.

I do not want to over-emphasise the role of social media here, as implicit in some of the lauding of that has been a covert desire for western commentrators to take credit for Egypt's (and Tunisia's) changes, as if Mark Zuckerberg were - in some fashion - a Lawrence of Arabia for the 21st century.  The phenomenon goes beyond simply the availability of digital technology and social media.

First of all, some basic points which are specific to Egypt but can, with slight modifications, be applied to many states in the region:

A large segment of Egypt's population is under twenty five. While this point has been noted in economic and political terms, lets just place it in its historical context. This means that most of Egypt's youth - and the bulk of those in Tahrir Square - are truly postcolonial.

What does this mean beyond a short hand?

The literacy rate at the point of decolonization in most countries around the world in the middle of the twentieth century was abysmally low. The educated sections of the population formed a colonised elite - so amply explained by Franz Fanon - who were removed from their own cultural roots, dislocated from their own history, often collaborators with the colonial regimes that not only showered them with largesse during the empire but repeatedly jockeyed to position them as leaders for the decolonization. The strategy then was not too different from the one now: replace the regime but replace it with one that would be sympathetic.

Poverty stricken, illiterate, battered, the decolonizing masses around the globe relied on leaders - who were not only often corrupt and autocratic, but also propped up by the Cold War order - and were repeatedly disappointed.

However, this has been steadily changing over the past decades. Even the most backward decolonized nations show  distinct improvement when compared to the days of the empire(s). Which is why, the protesters in Tahrir Square are no Fanonian elite. Born not only in a decolonized country, but also after Egypt's peace treaty with Israel, they demonstrate a sense of identity that does not rely on "othering" or indeed on difference. For the first time in the region, there have been few anti-Israel or anti-US slogans raised, and done so only for their complicity with their own hated regime. What we're seeing today is a revival of an older identity, recovered, revived, re-formed in Egypt which relies on itself. This is not to argue for some "essentialist" ideal, but rather a decolonization of the mind! And it is happening right across the postcolonial world.

And this brings us to the issue of popular culture. While Arab and Persian language television has much to contribute, there has also been a revolution in popular culture in the region thanks to the internet. In the (almost) decade since 9/11, more young people in the region have joined online communications with extraordinary results.

Although this process began - in a limited way - with Iraq, the first major shift that I had noted was in 2006 as Israel's began its punishing war on Lebanon. While most global mainstream media continued reporting through the typically Orientalist lens (Israel = civilized, democratic, right; Lebanon = barbaric, fanatic, wrong), there were other, newer narratives being shaped, not only on television, but also online. Bloggers posted photographs and eye-witness accounts. Suddenly those who have so long been classified by western media and governments as "collateral damage" not only had voices, but faces, homes, families, stories. Not surprisingly, since so few western reporters were actually on the ground (that is another tale, for another day), the narrative that emerged from within Lebanon was primarily shaped by the Lebanese with accounts and photographs of not only the dead and wounded, but of parties held amongst the rubble; of young people cleaning and rebuilding, of returning to their normal lives.

That story was repeated in 2008 with Israel's bombing of Gaza. Once again, photographs and accounts turned up on blogs and social media websites. In this case, Palestinian and foreign citizen journalists took on the burden as mainstream media went missing.  Again and again, average citizens uploaded their pictures and accounts using precious diesel for generators.

There are many who have pointed to Tunisia as the event that started Egypt's uprising. I don't agree! Tunisia may have provided the spark, even been the first domino to fall. But the process began earlier. More importantly, the foundations of this change and its engine are not economic or political, although they are undoubtedly huge factors.  The foundation of Egypt's uprising as well as many others bubbling around the Middle East are cultural. The key to this uprising is the not only the change in narrative, but also the newly found power to shape it. And that is also the reason that the political failure or success of these protests is immaterial in the longer term (although obviously hopefully they will succeed; failure will mean brutal oppression of these brave young people).

This is also the reason the dominos won't fall in the line predicted by many analysts. After all events of the past week demonstrate that access to Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and other sites is not enough. As Egypt rose to reclaim its position as a pre-eminent civilization through its "Twitter/Facebook revolution" the same websites were amply being used by Pakistan's youth to show their outrage at granting even minimal protection to minorities. There are lessons in the histories of both nations - you just have to look closely at each land in order to solve the mystery.

But for the moment, closely watching Egypt and the larger Levant reshape the Orientalist narrative of oppression, I can't help wishing Edward Said were alive to watch this extraordinary moment of history!