Endings are everywhere: Anna has left, and now Ellen. On Monday, her last night, we indulged one last time in the rich vegetarian food of Swastik before returning to the Love Nest for herbal tea laced with vodka and reminiscences. There weren’t quite enough cups to go round, and the sight of Brenda Dobbs, a new early middle-aged Scottish volunteer, drinking vodka-tea out of a bowl must rank as one of the strangest sights I have ever seen, the vast panorama of India not withstanding! It was our last evening of raucous laughter, and Vikas Samiti automatically feels like a duller place without her.
As for Delwara, the ending is in sight there too. I fear it will be a love-hate relationship until the end, with no convenient salvation. But at least I will be able to come away feeling that I’ve made some kind of contribution and learnt a lot in return. Haider is back from Lucknow, where he was away for Mohurram. It’s good to see him again, and good to be getting on with work together. We had a frustrating time trying to seek out the youths I had spoken to before about the DSK and whose details I had noted down. Many were unreachable, and most of those we found had either lost interest or were facing parental opposition, such as in the case of endearingly half-witted Yogesh Soni and a pair of delightful sisters from the Indra Colony. In one of the houses we went to I saw a poster of the kind that is very popular in Indian homes: a pleasant, if artificial scene of a house, some trees, a stream and a bridge – all very European-looking – and an edifying caption: “It is better to be kind at home than bounteous in far off places”.
A large number of Delwarans seem to be tying the knot at the moment, and many migrant workers (or “Non-Resident Delwarans” as I like to think of them) have returned for the ceremonies. It is easy to spot the Bombay-returneds from the aura of wealth and one-up-ness they take care to radiate, assisted by stylish clothes and shoes and confident cooler-than-thou poses. Most of them are probably working in rather unsavoury conditions in unglamorous parts of North Bombay, and sleep in overcrowded chawls or slums, but for all their élan they could live in Malabar Hill, drive a Maruti and drink Mojitos at the Oberoi with Preity Zinta.
*
Last night Prakash very kindly helped me prepare my workshop on CVs for the Delwara careers event, correcting my unidiomatic Hindi. He scoffed at my use of chahiye (meaning “should”, in this context) rather than parega (must) – “What is all this ‘chahiye, chahiye’? Do you want them to think you’re weak?!” After this we went out on his motorbike to get some tea, and I persuaded him to come into the old town. We ended up at a nondescript canteen near the Jagdish Temple.
“You know, Jon, this is the first time in my life I’m coming here.”
“You mean to this restaurant?”
“No, no, yaar, to this old city.”
“What?! You mean in your entire life in Udaipur you’ve never come to this area?”
He laughed. “Why should I come here? This place is for foreigners only.”
“But it’s your history! Your culture!”
“But Jon! What do I care about these bloody Rajputs? I’ve told you what I think about this topic already.”
“OK, but when you were young did your parents never take you to the City Palace or the lake?”
“Never. It was not a priority for us.”
So in twenty-three years of living in Udaipur, Prakash had never once made the 15 minute journey to the only part of the city that most visitors see. This must rank as one of the most shocking pieces of information I have received on my entire trip, and I wonder if there is something more to this than simple lack of interest or time. Perhaps something to do with his parents, about whom I know absolutely nothing? Or maybe a genuine feeling of resentment against what the old city stands for - but if so what? A revulsion at the deeply conservative small-town culture? Or the opposite: disdain of the perceived debauchery of tourism and those swept up by it?
We didn’t dwell on the issue, however, and since I’ve been reading about it recently, I asked him for his views on the Ayodhya dispute. This dispute is at the bleeding heart of the Hindu-Muslim communalism that is a sad and ugly feature of life in India today. Ayodhya is a town in Uttar Pradesh and is considered by many Hindus to be the birthplace of Lord Rama, the seventh incarnation of Vishnu and hero of the Ramayana epic. Folklore has it that a sacred Ram Mandir (Rama temple) stood at the exact birthplace for centuries until Babur, the first Mughal demolished it and built a mosque in its place. This Babri Masjid became a point of tension in the Hindu community – how dare the Muslims practise their religion so insensitively over the birthplace of God on earth? – so that it was locked and put out of use in the early 20th century.
Babri Masjid
In 1986, Rajiv Gandhi, in an effort to win the extremist Hindu vote (after wooing Muslims by passing the Muslim Woman’s Bill in 1986, effectively strengthening the presence of sharia law in India’s constitution) allowed a foundation stone to be placed at the supposed site of Rama’s birth. The BJP, at that time a very openly right-wing party with Hindu fundamentalist leanings, then leapt on the bandwagon and exhorted Hindus across the country to rise to the occasion and fire bricks for a new Ram Mandir. There were village marches throughout India where Hindu crowds would transport a brick from the kiln to the village temple, heralding the advent of Ram Raj, the rule of Rama on earth. In 1992 the Babri Masjid was demolished by a mob of Hindu extremists and the building work for the Ram Mandir began. Violent communal riots followed, most prominently in Gujarat and Bombay. According to Prakash there is no archaeological evidence that a Ram Mandir ever stood on the site in the first place.
Prakash is no apologist for hindutva, the ethic of “India for the Hindus” that was heavily associated with the BJP [21] in its early days. However, he genuinely believes that there are some “bad points” about Islam, such as lawful polygamy, and attributes the rise in Islamic fundamentalism to the fact that most Muslims are “living in the 17th and 18th centuries”. Indeed, the Sachar report (late 2006) revealed Muslims to be the worst off out of all community groups in India in all development indices, such as health, education and income. Prakash is also no apologist for Bal Thackeray, the militant leader of the hindutva-led Shiv Sena (the “Army of Shiva”) which is the Maharashtrian political party in Bombay. It was the Shiv Sena who changed the city’s name from the Portuguese-derived Bombay to the Marathi Mumbai, in a move that overlooked layers and layers of linguistic and cultural subtleties. But again, Prakash sees the Sena-style hindutva as a response to the power of Muslim-led gangs in Bombay, such as the “D-Company” controlled by Dawood Ibrahim in Karachi or Dubai.
Our conversation moved onto more general topics, such as terrorism and global politics. Prakash believes 9/11 was good for India because it woke up the world to the situation in Kashmir and forced Musharraf to admit that some Pakistanis in Kashmir were terrorists, not simply army members. He firmly believes there will be an American invasion in Iran soon, and also believes that the US signed the nuclear deal with India so as to prevent India signing an oil deal with Iran. Most passionately of all, he believes that India will soon overtake China in economic growth terms. Incidentally, I suspect we will soon be seeing a new “Scramble for Africa” – this time through trade rather than colonisation, and with India and China, rather than the European empire builders, as the main protagonists. China is already investing in countries such as Sudan, Zimbabwe and Namibia, and I would guess India will soon start doing the same, especially given the huge NRI (Non-Resident Indian) wealth in East Africa. The fact that China and Pakistan traditionally have a sympathetic relationship spices things up a little.
*
Just now I was walking back from Fateh Sagar, and was so lost in thought that it was with a jolt I realised that pale-faced Vishal had pulled up on his motorbike.
“You want a lift?” he asked amiably.
“Thanks - is Vikas Samiti OK?”
“OK fine.”
“How are you?” I asked as the bike spluttered into action and the vibrations passed through my body. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“It’s all under God’s will. It he wishes, we shall see. If not...”
A typical Vishal answer, I thought, and I let him talk on until we reached the gates.
“Thanks very much,” I said, getting off. “We should have another discussion before I go.”
“Why not? But only a positive discussion, please,” he said with a look of pity.
“Of course! I’m always positive,” I said lamely.
He smiled contemptuously and drove off. That was it, then, the final put-down. I may well never see him again.
Footnotes
[21] This was the party of the previous Prime Minister, Atal Behari Vajpayee, and is the main rival of the Congress Party.
Next Post - Saturday 10th February 2007: Udaipur (will be posted Friday 10th Februrary 2012)
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