Hate mongering about Kashmir on social media: is it enough?

It fascinates how liberals respond to trolling on social media specially about Kashmir when soldiers die in militant attacks. Kashmir is, has been since 1947 and will forever be a disputed territory between India and Pakistan - unless sincere, mature and mindful moves are made by politicians of both countries as well as J&K to resolve the Kashmir issue. A living testimony to this is that a part of Kashmir is not under Indian control and no one has ever done anything to bring it back despite some wars with Pakistan.

Anyone who contests this by saying that Kashmir is an integral part of India needs to read history better. Un-fortunately, non-partisan and dispassionate analysis of historical works on Kashmir exists in English and the Bhakts have still a long way to go before they master English. Moreover, where do they have the time to do some serious reading when the motives of their demagogues are being served by jingoist comments, bantering on social media and chest beating in 'paan ki dukan' chhap un-parliamentary language full of low innuendo, double entender and even unsavory hurling of abuses.

Needless to say that the vested interests focus on securing the vote banks by dividing a sentimental nation on lines of religion and region. They may not have learnt English from the British but have learnt their policy very well.

I wonder what does this 'bharat Mata ki jai' crowd closing fists in the air envision as a final refrain to the vicious cycle of killings in Kashmir? Any sane individual is equally pained at the martyrdom of an innocent Indian soldier just as much as at the brutal killing of a 15 year old Kashmiri civilian succumbing to pellet gun injuries. Neither the army covered under AFSPA is parsimonious nor the common Kashmiris' patience with three decades of armed occupation of their streets, muhallahs and bazaars is unquestionable. Both are human and weak in the flesh.

So will a genocide in the valley give Kashmir back to India without any claim of separatism and militancy? Or an invasion of the PoK to facilitate a reunion between Kashmiris on both sides of LoC? Or a carpet bombing of all four states of Pakistan - a nuclear power, to achieve the utopia of Akhand Bharat?

Does it all come without a cost? The Indian armed forces are fighting a battle in Kashmir and in any battle there is loss on both sides. 100,000 Kashmiris and  100s of security personnel have died in the blood bath of militancy and native Kashmiri Pandits have been displaced - to the avail of no national good. Ghetto like settlements for Kashmiri Pandit families is all that the government is promising them after years of exile. Don't they deserve better in their own homeland?

So will the bhakts now start enrolling for the army leaving their cushy corporate chairs? Will all the Indian American Modi fans cheering for  him at the Central Park in New York city come back to India and fight with Pakistan? Will all the politicians now go to the border without their Z security covers and pick up the gun in the holy war?

Difficult to answer eh?

OK give me just one objective answer. It's easy. How Many Indian politicians' sons are in the Indian army, navy or air force? How many of their daughters are married to captains and generals?

It takes a law like the RTI to get that sort of data and it was not gifted to the nation by the RSS but by liberals in the Civil society who understand the nuances of public good and the plight of the Indian masses. Meanwhile consider this: infighting suits them -  politicians on both sides, so that they enjoy life and keep the public consciousness diverted from the real issues.

If a well read journo, thinking film actor, or a condescending writer is worried about intolerance, killing of stone pelting civilians and beef vigilantes it's worth more than a mock or a scorn by an anonymous coward on social media who will not even reveal his true identity and location. Liberals have an Idea of the past, they have not swallowed the sugar coated bitter pills of hate campaigns given by political hate mongers and they are concerned about the future of their beloved nation. They are Patriots if not nationalists.

Liberal journalists are not journalists like Arnab Goswami who merely sit in studios and pass verdicts high on the  singular merit of decibel. They are highly educated and active liberal Indians who travel across the length and breadth of their country to intermingle with its mind boggling diversity of peoples and understand their view point.

Liberal actors are not actors like Gajendra Chauhan who after dishing out flops over flops become jesters for the ruling government and occupy positions of power they do not deserve by any claim to contributions for the performing arts. They are hardworking self made artists who have the caliber of raising millions of rupees in aid funds for relief of tsunami hit people when they move a leg in a charity concert.

Liberal writers and scholars are not like Chetan Bhagat who are reduced to writing paeans for the king after having wasted public funds over their subsidized education in world class IITs and IIMs. They are writers and intellectuals with a heart and mind brave enough to follow their dreams of changing the world with the power of their pen. They bring international awards and accolades. They bring respect to country.

Yes, the Kashmir issue is complex. It needs a multi layered treatment too. Simplistic 'do or die' rhetoric, us Vs them jingoism, heroic nationalism and shifting the blame conveniently to the other - read punching bag (Pakistan) in this case, is unfortunately what is signified by hate mongering on social media. But even more troubling is the fact that this proposes no durable and long-lasting solutions in near future.  Hitler had his fiery speeches laced with such identity based inspirations for ovsrzealots to Nazi Germany. Rest is history.

Autonomy to a unified Kashmir, delinked with Laddakh and Jammu under a confederacy with the sharing of the triumvirate - India, Pakistan and Kashmir is what C  Raja Gopalachari had proposed in the 1950s. This famous 'Raja ji formla' ironically is buried in the annals of history as it serves no one's vested interest and promises a win win situation. Had Nehru, Gandhi, Ambedkar and Sheikh Abdullah lived together and longer this may have been achieved.

Anyhow, Manmohan Singh regime did achieve some years of cease fire and peace in the valley by his vision of a 21st century SAARC in which borders would become meaningless.

Sadly, post July 2016 in NaMo's India we have receded 10 steps backwards. The past of wars, penury and suffering may again become our present if we fail to learn from the past.

Today Kashmir is not about settling scores. It's about moving on with as little baggage of history as possible.

Many hues of the green learning spaces at AMU

The Many Hues of the Green Learning Spaces at AMU

By

Faiza Abbasi

A lot can happen in a garden, lawn, woods or just some scrub wilderness. Imagination

knows no bounds when the receptive minds of inquisitive students, scholars and teachers look out from a classroom, lab or library opening to greenery. More rewarding is a reflective walk or an informal rendezvous in the green learning spaces of the Aligarh Muslim University. 

Ensconced in the over one thousand acre of the sprawling AMU campus, its heritage buildings and state-of-the-art educational facilities stand tall. What sets it apart from the rest of the city is the vastness of space and plain featureless land between concrete monoliths; where nature finds a playground and the academic community a respite to reflect and grow.

It is neither a Shanti Niketan with most activities in the open nor a Mughal Garden regimented enough for entry timings enforcing a closure for most days of the year. The AMU campus is a happy mix of nature in its myriad manifestations. From the difficult to pronounce botanical names like Casuarina equisitifolia and Erythrina vareigata painted on square tin plates nailed to the trees, to the indigenous varieties like babool and khejri, the AMU grounds have it all to soothe the soul. 

Herbal and medicinal plant cultivation of the Ajmal Khan Tibbiya College for their Dawakhana and the Botanical Gardens of the AMU Fort and the Prince of Wales Botanical Laboratory known as the Botany Dept., have exotics owing their existence to the careful plant breeders. In the manicured lawns of the Gulistan-e Syed, VC's and PVC's Lodges the hedge heights are meticulously calculated to golden proportions and flowerbed distances are measured to precision. The slightly unkempt gardenia of the Faculties, Offices and Halls of residence boast of some ornamental plants, occasional patches of bushy overgrowth and countless mighty trees having stood the test of time. 

April and May in north-India are notorious for the heat and the scorching sun but one look at the skyline of the main University road suggests that the sun has just entered the spring equinox. The bare lifeless branches of the trees during fall are replaced with green foliage and flowers of all colours. The many Gulmohar trees near the Arts Faculty are adorned with their red flowers and Amaltas trees lower their branches with yellow bells creating the famed golden showers. Complete with the lilac and purple crowns of the Jacaranda it actually signifies fertility, growth and life much needed for an academic institution.

With this first burst of summer, the Duck Pond at the T-junction Park, where the main road bifurcates towards the Engineering Faculty and Computer Centre is on the verge of drying up but the blooms rupture colours. Early morning and evening walkers are greeted on the side-walks lined with seasonal plants. One can cast a gaze beyond the lawns and the timber stands near the Education Department and almost touch the clustered flowers in the hanging inflorescence of the tall Fishtail Palms on both the sides of the road.

This is also when the moths and butterflies feast in the orchards of the AMU Fort and the bees are busy drinking up the blossoms. Be it Holi, the festival of colours or the solar new year celebrated as nauroz by sprinkling petals, communities with roots in peasantry, the world over indulge in festivities marking the joys and prosperity of a new harvest. A riot of colours in the expanses inundated with flowers - petunias, cosmos, marigold, sweet peas, pansies, calendulas, asters, verbenas, nasturtiums, geraniums and what not; near the Dental College, Bab-e Syed and the Victoria Gate Nursery are just in time to party with spring.

Students sipping a late evening tea outside the kiosks near the Training Placement Cell and Canteen make merry, chat, poke fun at and swear in pollen laded air. The crisp freshness of each breath invigorates discussions and revitalizes ambitions for success in future. The stark white jasmines emanate fragrance for the moths to pollinate them but their aroma gladdening the nostrils, fills romanticism in the scholarly life of the young people who will forever be enchanted with the memories of their pleasant days at Aligarh. 

Here, a team of writers, speakers, actors, singers, debaters and musicians of the various co-curricular clubs of Cultural Educational Centre surcharged with the creative energies straight out of the Kennedy Hall may stumble upon a group of students huddled around their plant Taxonomy Professor studying the buttress roots of the line of Arjuna trees outside the Maulana Azad Central Library.

The hot winds during the day do not just bring dust and particles of white sandy soil called Reh in the vernacular for which Aligarh is even documented in the Colonial Gazetteers. Small black cotton seeds frayed up in soft white filaments from the Semul (red silk cotton tree), aromatic Baur (mango flowers) from the orchards near the Sir Syed Nursery not destined to be ripe mangoes in summers, and the winged chilbil (nut of Indian elm tree), light as feather travel afar on the wafting breeze. 

The guava and jujube trees in the Naqvi Park and the University farm lend their fruit to humans be it the contractor of the harvest or the gangs of marauding local children dodging the sleepy watchman. Come summer-monsoon and a fresh offering of mangoes and jamuns in the stretch between the Art Gallery and the Geology Dept. is the bone of contention between the rightful owners and the intruders.

Not that these green spaces of flora come with no surprises from the fauna. The age old Nullah near the Allama Iqbal Hall can spring up a white-breasted water hen walking in the reeds. A massive roosting phenomenon can be observed on any setting day at the electric wires near the railway line behind Habib Hall. The Hariyal (Yellow Legged Green Pigeon) fabled for its inability to feed on the ground is seen foraging in hundreds on the Mulberry trees of the Chemistry Department lawns. The Eucalyptus and Ashoka trees planted for cover are a nesting site for the Pariah kites and Mynas.

Camouflaged in the high but dense crowns of the thickets with intermingling dhak (Butea monosperma), sheesham (Delbergia sissoo) and neem (Azadirachta indica) trees the Grey hornbill makes a swift but suave flight gliding from one cover to another. A close look reveals its long kinked neck and bright eyes shining through the brown sticks. The Koel sings sweet through the morning and the Faakhta (Laughing Dove) laughs on the desolation of the day. Sunset is marked by the cackling flocks of egrets returning to nests. Rubbing shoulders with its winged mates on the trees is the tiny squirrel, often darting on the roads, grabbing a fallen fig to nibble at after climbing back with agility, to its cosy comfort of the twig high up.

While the girls hostels in Abdullah, Sarojini Naidu and Indira Gandhi Halls are specially frequented by our closest primates - the menacing rhesus monkeys, whose squeals are responded to by the frenzied shrieks of the inmates, animal encounters also leave happy memories. The last minute exam preparations in the early mornings are carried out in the open to avoid the other room-mates busy with usual make-up and music. It is considered auspicious for the candidates' performance to spot a peafowl. Though, its long meoooow call is a regular haunting memory for every inhabitant of the hostel from day one. On a luckier overcast day, one might see the peacock in a nuptial dance raising its pheasant tail to display its male fitness to a lek of peahens around.

Towards the outer periphery of the campus where the humble gardeners pay less attention, rough country has a better chance to prosper. Moving towards the Faculties of Law and Agriculture across the railway crossing near the Begum Sultan Jahan Hall a jackal might be seen sneaking through the fence in the dark or a monitor lizard may be discovered stupefied by sunlight trying to scale a wall using its firm grip. The calm and peaceful residential colony around the J.N. Medical College, one day throws a spectacle of a checkered keel-back snake stiff with stress under the attention of the selfie-mongers unaware of its venom-free fangs, on the other a mongoose emerges from the undergrowth entering a drain to reach its burrow. 

In summers and monsoon as darkness lowers its pall, the lapwing lets out a shrill call from the sporadic shallow pools and there are torch flies emitting light from their sooty bodies in the secondary scrub vegetation around the Viqarul Mulk Hall. During winters most of this animal life is hibernating but the AMU community comprising staff and students is often out soaking in the sun, smelling the roses and swivelling with the sunflowers. Shadows lengthen on the salubrious lawns glistening in the winter sun as it traverses the sky concluding a short cold day.

Asrarul Haq Majaz appropriately termed the AMU a chaman (Garden) for its bulbuls (aka students) when he penned the Tarana (Anthem) for the University during his hostel days. Walking barefoot in the pristine lawns of the Founder’s Residence which houses books on and by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan and his personal belongings; feeling the soft velvet grass under the feet - sometimes oozing dew, sometimes damp under the gentle drizzles of the sprinkler irrigators; the background is lit up by warm glows of floodlights on the newly constructed red brick structure of the K A Nizami Centre for Quranic Studies in fine medieval architecture; and the Quranic promise of a paradise with gardens beneath which rivers flow, comes alive.

To the gardens of AMU a humble tribute from a learner in the words of Urdu poet Andaleeb Shadani:

            Shafaq, dhanuk, mehtaab, ghaTaen, taare, naghme, bijli, phool

            Us daaman mein kya kya kuchh hai, woh daman haath mein aye to

شفق،دھنک،مہتاب،گھٹایئں،تارے ، نغمے،بجلی ،پھول

اس دامن میں کیا کیا کچھ ہے،وہ دامن ہاتھ میں آئے تو

            (Evening twilight, rainbow, moon, clouds, stars, songs, light, flowers

            What all is there in that hem, may that hem come in the reach of hands)

Nowroz - a cultural and Biological diversity Festival

ںو روز مبارک 

Nowroz is a Zoroastrian festival that celebrates the spring and harvest. Having originated in Iran thousands of years ago it has moved out with the diaspora, to be observed by people of Iranian origins the world over. Falling usually on the 21st of March every year it denotes the entry of the Sun into the Spring equinox from the winter solstice. And there are exact calculations pertaining to this transformation. Traditionally, the moment when the earth enters into the new quarter of its orbit - between the spring equinox and the summer solstice, is calculated to the precise second with the help of Jantris. Now however, there are websites that dedicated to nowroz which display a calculator constantly counting seconds backwards to the upcoming nowroz time.

Jantris, like all horoscopes are recommend lucky alphabets, stones to wear and colors don in apparels etc. For instance this nowroz on 20 March 2016, the lucky colour was orange. So celebrations were marked with merry makers wearing orange dresses and serving the fruit on their table. Probably, due to 2016 being a leap year, the Jantris had calculated 20 March instead of 21 march for the spring festival. This also happens to be the Solar New year, hence the name Nowroz in Persian where Now=new and roz=day. 

Interestingly, this solar year which is enacted by nature, is neither adhered to by the Islamic Hijri calendar nor by the which is lunar, nor by the Christian AD era calendar which despite being solar, is governed by political reasons. St. Augustus and Julius Ceasar demanded that both July and August have 31 days and the rightful and  powerful of the Christian era deemed fit for the new year to be coupled with Christmas.Although orthodox Christians in the United States and Central Europe celebrate Christmas on 7 January, according to the Gregorian Calendar which predates the Julian Calendar.

Despite the hegemony of the CE, over world affairs nature celebrates its new years day on Nowroz by all means. This was recognized by our ancient ancestors who lived close to nature and responded to the joys of biodiversity. The day is literally marked by a riot of colours in gardens. Be it the regimented manicured gardens of the city, the little green spaces of the country or the unkempt wilderness. Flowers and in bloom and pollen is in the air. This pollen is an allergen to many, but the aroma lent by them to the whiffs of cool breeze wafting around is a welcome. Very soon the flowers in blossom will give away fruits and there will regeneration of life.

Happy families lay elaborate tables with the Sapt Seen (Seven food items starting with the perso-arabic alphabet seen س ). The germinated wheat, sweetened rice desert, dates, fruits and dry fruits decorated in fancy platters and pots radiate in the soft glow of candles and incense sticks. Tradition has it that a mirror is also set on the table. The Nowroz observance in the White House, attended by the President Obama had similar arrangement. Children and women also set the same on push carts and visit the neighbours filling their vicinity with festivities.

Nonetheless, people of Persian origins the world over - which includes the present day Iran, Afghanistan and parts of Iraq get together to celebrate Nowroz with mirth and friendliness. This  year too my facebook home page was adorned with pictures of friends celebrating nowroz by sitting together around elaborate dining tables and greeting each other. An Afghan student of mine huddled up with friends in the University of Masachusetts, Amherst and was wishing his family back in the Palmir mountains of Afghanistan.

Ideally, the Muslims have alienated themselves from Zoroastrians who are originally Persians. There is no way Islam can reconcile on religious grounds with the fire worshipers but fortunately, the shared customs and traditions of Nowroz live on. This former Afghan student of the AMU, when I was teaching him here, once complained of the ignorance of natural solar calendar in India. He was trying to learn the Hindi names of the Vikram Calendar in India from his batch-mate, another Muslim girl. The foreign students hostel dominated by Muslim Iranian families seems becomes abuzz with activity on Nowroz. They congregate in parks in the evenings and sing and clap till late at night. 

It is prevalent with the Parsi community in India. Living in Gujurat and around Mumbai, they have never forgotten their Parsi roots while performing all rites and rituals. While the Parsis may have added Salli (potaoto chips) eggs to their spread in other places too  Indian Muslims tracing their Iranian origins have added to the diversity. Some Muslim families in Aligarh painstakingly organise an open house for friends to devour on goodies and display the decorations with pride. Women drape sarees according to the colour of the day by the Jantri and modify dishes to suit the Indian palate. 

The peasant in the country plains of India may not know of Nowroz but the koel singing and the flowering of the mango tree relates to him bringing joy and smile with the onset of spring. Parsi or Muslim, Shia or Sunni, Nowroz, is truly a celebration of the variety of live forms that has transcended the boundaries of religion and culture and proven its test of time.

Clean India and Mahatma Gandhi

Gandhi and Clean India

Dr. Faiza Abbasi

Aligarh 4 October 2015

One of the demographic dividends of the generation of Indians contributing to nation building is that Mahatma Gandhi is imprinted on our psyche. As the familiar hand drawn picture of the simple yet strong Father of the Nation was seen everywhere from currency notes to the school corridor his ideals too were imprinted through didactic tales. Like we don’t remember when we first learnt our parents names and faces, we also don’t remember when we first learnt of the truth and non-violence theory of Bapu. He was just there. Everywhere. Loved and revered. Also he shared this cult status with no other icon of modern India pre-globalisation. Pandit Nehru was the closest but probably as the first PM he himself practiced caution not to be projected more than his beloved Gandhi ji.

From the simple school boy stories that we learnt about Bapu, we also perceive him as a man with integrity, honesty and austerity that translated in to his model of nationalism crystallising in a movement against the British rule until independence was won in 1947. However, down the line development and politics succumbed to their compulsions. A passive submission to these began in the early years and till date we see honest officers being humiliated by corrupt politicians and leaders with integrity turning a Nelsons’ Eye to corruption below them. Even Prime Ministers are not an exception to this tendency of letting the guilty go un-punished if they bring in political benefits.

Gandhi’s vehement refusal to all offers of luxury and a conscious abandonment of even self earned opportunities of cushy life, nevertheless, were meant to be a part of his exceptional integrity. He felt responsible to the masses, to their natural modes of subsistence and to the indigenous life supported at the grassroots. That is why he never shunned prudence of resources. He could go to the Round Table Conference in London in his two pieces of cloth wrapped around him and his cold feet in chappals. He was a living miracle to the British in layers of woollens and snow boots. It was unfathomable, where he got his steely resolve from to walk on a snow covered London Street without a coat, overcoat, hat and shoes and socks and mufflers and mittens. Feeling one with the poor and downtrodden of India and keeping himself sensitive to their deprivations and pains gave him this drive.

Unfortunately, after him successive governments were overtaken by the development fever imported from the west. This caused a two pronged socio-ecological degradation like never before. On the one hand the masses were marginalised and deprived from benefitting from the fruits of development. Mass production usurped the idea of production by the masses as in Bapu’s dreams and cottage industries were wiped by MNCs. On the other hand ill conceived and reckless development policies took our natural resources for granted and caused huge vandalism in our serene country landscapes, rendered the cities into brown islands of heat and gave birth to the growing monster of solid waste with serious disposal issues.

Being the environmentalist that I am who gets great strength from the Gandhian philosophy that ‘There is room for every man’s need, but not for every man’s greed’, it was a proud moment for me to take the Pledge on Swachhta this Gandhi Jayanti. Since 2014 all educational institutions have been mandated to administer the oath for keeping their surroundings clean. Rightly, in the oath the subjects are made to repeat that they will put 2 hours a week of shramdan, cleaning their neighbourhood, homes and places of work. Such attention to cleanliness by every government official, school teacher and all students, most certainly is an enabler of cleanliness. Albeit, any research would opine that a social change as massive and collective as the Swachh Bharat Mission can never be achieved by pressing and focusing on one enabler alone. A model for the accomplishment of this success should be replete with at least two or three more social enablers. In this essay I will enumerate three, as at it is the best that comes to my mind at this point of time. More are welcome on this space.

Equal Participation

While apparently the entire purpose behind the exercise of administering the pledge on Gandhi Jayanti, is to make the common man feel responsible for cleanliness and hygiene and not just wait for the government, a mere reading of the pledge indicates that it reeks of discrimination and dogma. When the United Nations clubbed all its philanthropic programmes for women under Unifem,  one of the ethics to be promoted the world over was the use of a gender neutral language. I took this pledge in Hindi repeating a male head of institution but cringed every time I had to read .....saaf karunga, from the text. I upheld my pride in being a woman by speaking out aloud ....saaf karungi! Secondly, for all my love and allegiance to the nation I cannot concede to call it Maan Bharati or Bhaarat Mata. Now some ruling party politician may ask me to go to Pakistan if I don’t. While I will not cut my umbilical ties from India in the most Utopian of dreams, I am alienated to this pledge at least. To the loss of those whose brain child it is, the preached supporter of the campaign in me is feeling this way because of representing the second grade sex and the minority community. Though, keeping the cause dearer, I still have the Swachh Bharat Mission logo with Bapu in his simple Ainak on my letter head.

Un-glamorization

So there are many who are sporting the logo, spending on advertisements and buying new Jhadoos on Gandhi Jayanti but for real cleanliness they have to endure with dirt under nails and sweat with the Jhadoo and mop and duster and scrubber long after the cameras are gone. This noble mission has to look beyond the symbolism and photo-op for government officials. There are other existing institutional spaces where it can be effectively delivered, but they are all very un-glamorous. Those committed to the mission need to be ready for hard dogged work in the heat and dust of India. Campaign and advocacy for the goal is one thing - and I must congratulate the government on its success in the same, but the means that require grappling with filth burdened gullies, nallahs, and mohallas need to be promoted too. At this many would conveniently take the high road in AC cars. Alas, the higher road was taken by Gandhi ji, when he cleaned his own environs in the Sabarmati Ashram.

Socio-ecological systems

Motivated people will take the mission only half its way. Filth has to be taken to the end of the cycle, not just shifted from micro-environment. Stake holders should be educated enough to sort their garbage and not put it in front of other’s houses. The complete over hauling of the municipal systems, equipping the lack lustre municipal staff with modern gadgets and building capacity in them to administer a scientifically proven waste disposal mechanism is what we need before we ask people to pick up the Jhadoos. The green-yellow-blue florescent bins of poly vinyl chloride look very promising on TV in the back drop of the PM. What is further required is their access to the nooks and corners of the country. Correct measures of use like convincing the safaiwalas that the days of the old asbestos drum colored with cheap paint are over and the new PVC bins need to be emptied regularly. As those days are over, so should be the practice of setting fire to the trash inside the bin to save the hard work in cleaning them.

Sadly, India is yet to have a mature and sound recycling system which doesn’t let a blade of plastic escape on the streets. And the campaign ideals seem to be taking little notice of this fact while being over-hyped in reaching to the electorate with the hollow message. As we inspire the people to throw away their garbage sensibly, we also need to inspire our industrialists to take the classified degradable and non degradable waste as raw material for production and energy generation. Specially, plastic and polythene, because it not only causes pollution, degrades soil quality and is detrimental to a feral animal’s  life when part of its dietary spectrum. If left to perish on its own in millions of years plastic waste is a wastage of otherwise energy rich organic mass which can lead to sustainable development.

Before summing up, I feel compelled to quote - with slight alteration, the famous couplet of Bollywood lyricist Sahir Ludhianvi, with special reference to my last point regarding the holy cows ingesting polythene and dying of starvation as it clogs their innards:

Yeh jashn Mubarak, par yeh bhi sadaqat hai

Hum log haqeeqat ke ehsas se aari hain

Gandhi ho ke Gaaye ho

Hum donon ke qatil hain donon ke pujari hain

یہ جشن مبارک پر یہ بھی صداقت ہے 

 ہم لوگ حقیقت کے احساس سے عاری  ہیں 

گا ندھی ہو کہ گایے  ہو 

ہم دونوں کے قاتل ہیں دونوں کے پجاری ہیں   

(Enjoy the festivities but it is fact, that we are negligent to truth, be it Gandhi or the cow, we are murderers of both, we are worshipers of both)

Urdu Tahir Mehmood

Some years ago I had written the following fan mail to Justice Tahir Mahmood, for his article on the applicability of Urdu language in post independence India. He wrote in this middle piece of the Rashtriya Sahara an Urdu daily i subscribe, that while the teaching and learning of Urdu in India has been stymied, it still has hopes because its poetry would not let it die. He mentione dmany instances of MPs in both the houses making their cases with the help of Urdu couplets and Judges corroborating their points again by citing couplets. To top it all he proposed a toast to Bollywood which patronizes Urdu writers for its cinematic endeavors.

Dear Sir,

Asslam Alaikum

Hope this finds you in the best of health and spirits. If not then I sincerely wish and pray the same for you. I am writing this to u because reading your article this morning in the (Rashtriya Sahara editorial page 7) was an eye opener for me. May I have the opportunity to communicate with you how your erudite analysis of my mother tongue Urdu has immensely helped me? Before I begin please excuse me if this becomes too lengthy for you to read and if by now you are loathing me for writing to you in English while I just admitted Urdu is my mother tongue. Actually, the idea of writing Urdu in any other script gives me a cringe. It is like hitchhiking on a lesser vehicle when you actually own a vintage Rolls Royce! And I do not have Urdu script email facility. Besides, I would be ashamed to risk my broken Urdu in front of the finest Urdu columnist of the subcontinent (My personal unequivocal belief).

Sir, if I may have your attention, I live with my family in Aligarh district where my children go to a convent named Our Lady of Fatima Secondary School. Under the three language formula in this school the students are given the option to take either Urdu or Sanskrit as a third language in addition to Hindi and English in VI standard. I persuaded my son to opt for Sanskrit because he gets home tuition in Urdu and Arabic from a Maulvi sahib and by studying Sanskrit an addition to his repertory of languages would be made. Now, yesterday I was having an innocent womanly chit chat with a group of some friends when my friend Rajni asked my friend Anjana what language her son would opt for as he comes to standard VI this year. Anjana replied that there were no second thoughts about it that he will take Urdu because at least Urdu has better scope than Sanskrit. At this Rajni made a very bad face and replied that even Urdu has no scope while Sanskrit is much more scoring. I am very sensitive about my love for Urdu and I curtly contradicted Rajni. I told her that scores in this third language at school do not matter because the marks obtained by a student are not considered in his/her overall ranking and only qualifying marks are required for promotion to next level. Rajni sensed my emotions and changed her tone beginning to extol the virtues of Urdu poetry which she learnt in Abdullah Women’s College at AMU and how it helped her participate in baitbazi et al. The discussion came to an end with the intervention of a senior friend Seema Gupta who told us how it would be clever to let our children learn some Urdu if they had to draw benefits from getting in to AMU schools and then grab a medical or engineering seat as an internal who has claim to 50% seats reserved for this category. However, I had pent up feelings. I believe Urdu is much more than that - it’s the essence of the composite cultural heritage of this country. But overwhelmed by my emotion I could not say much and upset with my lack of advocacy to convince them I walked back home with a little thorn in my heart.

Then I read your article this morning. After reading it twice and learning by heart all the couplets you have quoted, I worded a little conversation with all my skeptical friends bogged by the question of making their offspring study Urdu at school or not. I would say, “in future your children might want to make a career in Bollywood, politics or judiciary. If so do let them take Urdu. Actually, MAKE them take it up because what I am saying is bolstered with well researched evidence from a very knowledgeable social observer and commentator”.

And I have to thank you for that, Sir.

All the very best for all your future endeavors and I am proud that I too am an Alumnus of the St. Andrew’s College Gorakhpur (B.Sc. 1995), because you too have earned some of your knowledge from the same premises.

Khuda Hafiz,

Faiza Abbasi, Ph.D.

Guest Faculty

Department of Wildlife Sciences

Aligarh Muslim University

Aligarh – 202002

Residence: 4/1263 – A

Behind Venus Tower

Opp. Jamia Urdu

Medical Road, Civil Lines

Aligarh – 202002

Phone: (Res) +91 571 2700777

                (Off) +91 571 2701052

                (GSM) +919760011520

Email: faeza.abbasi@gmail.com

Blog: www.naturalharmony.blogspot.com

 Justice Mahmood not only acknowledged my mail but also based his middle piece of the forthcoming week on my observations. I am ever so grateful to him. I will try to reproduce the two articles in JPEG here.

Well, governments have changed and they will keep shifting butts on the same chairs - some times struggling cheek by jowl, but this reality of the Indian parliament has not changed. LS proceedings on TV sometimes include special half hour programmes on lighter moments of the Houses. Mostly they are packed with renditions of Urdu couplets and even long poems ie Nazm. The people's representatives in the houses also seem to be enjoying the same. There are giggles and thumping of tables at every #shair airing the plights of the oppressed.

However, it was amusing to strike one obvious difference between the ghazal, nazm, naat read by an Urdu #shayar  at a mushaira. The poets have to read their own creations. They compose, write and recite an original poem. Mostly they appear in Mushairas without a piece of paper or a diary. Almost always they do not fumble for words. If they do they suavely cover it up in an impressive flow involving repetition of verses - which is allowed for making the delivery effective. 

Secondly, they do not have to keep taking permission form the chair of the house for more time. They do not even reassure in between that they will not take much time. The Urdu #Shayar, while offering his self written poem to a mushaira has burnt his emotion and pain. So during a mushaira he performs only when invited honorably, he does seek permission from the sadar e jalsa (president of the function), but the latter never intervenes with a court yet firm 'please conclude'. Moreover the audience are good enough to make the shayar feel whether he is wanted or not. A constant in flux of daad and wah wah keeps his adrenaline rushing in the absence of which he retracts to his poetic cocoon. In his very own takhayyul ki duniya, he toils with human emotion for long after that. 

And last, but not the least the payment from the public! A politician in the Parliament is at least ten times more expensive than a poet, for his time to the state exchequer. Further, the poet lifts up the men without any jeering and booing of the crowds. He may have even faced opposition from close family members. And he works in extremely insecure conditions where his family suffers economic deprivation. The world knows that Ghalib was under the debt of the whole world and Josh Malihabadi went to Pakistan long after his family had left because his children had no jobs in India. All this despite Pt. Nehru's special request to Josh sb to stay on! Still a poet from within will consume himself on the flame of poetry like a moth. Shama - parwana (do i need explain even that?) 

So where the poets jostle with each other for honour in a low paid event the MPs call it a memorable day when they have fought with each other with hammer and tongs. Albeit, as long as we have urdu poetry being read on our screens in charged atmospheres - mushaira or pandal - happy viewing.

A tear for the fading glory of forgiveness

A tear for the fading glory of forgiveness

I have just swallowed a warm stream of tears uncontrollably oozing and soaking my face. When the correspondent on India Today tv channel reported that Yakoob Abdul Razzak Memon didn't sleep all night  and when the jail authorities went to him at 5:00 am he was offering his Fajr prayer - there was some connection I could identity. If I knew I was to die at 7 am this is what I would be doing at 5 am.

Further it was told that everyone in the Nagpur jail reported him to be a very nice and decent person. He spoke very little and was well behaved all the time. His English was very good. He had earned two MA degrees from IGNOU while in prison and also helped other inmates study and pass SSC exams through distance mode. They also said he will be remembered as an inmate who spent all his time reading and writing. Gandhi ji and Nehru ji too spent their time writing letters and books. I remember the preface of Discovery of India written from Ahmednagar Jail.

I can not question the country's judiciary which pronounced him guilty and uphold pride in the fact that all options for mercy took recourse for this accused. The judges always know better than me hence there is no contest to the verdict. However this strengthens my sanguine hopes that all perpetrators of crime against humanity or collusion in the same will see similar fate in my life time in my country. That includes rioters of 1984, 1991, 1992 and 2002 also. Yakub's case has proven that the days of justice may be delayed but not denied are gone. First time in the history of our nation the highest court was reopened at 2:30 am and a verdict was passed at 3:30 am. Wishing such speedy redress to all the cases of poor peasants and common men pending. Now we know what is super fast track court. Its preposterous.

Nevertheless my pride in India, its polity, constitution and judiciary is challenged by the embarrassing behaviour of the media and the mob baying for blood. As an Indian my head is hung in shame at the unfortunate spectacle that is being made of a man's death. Of the vituperation on social media trying to flare up communal passions. And of the mainstream media focusing cameras on jubilant crowds sloganeering Bharat Mata ki Jai outside the jail!

Technically I should also be cheering with the crowds at the final riddance from a terrorist. But being an Indian I have a moral conscious too that I draw from growing up with story books based on Indian folklore. The saints and founding fathers of India underscored the greatness of our ancient culture from the 'tit for tat attitude' of the west. They upheld forgiving against vengeful killing. I am reminded of a short story in Urdu by Maulana Azad which ends with the line 'maafi ki ek raat saza ki ek taweel umr pe bhari hui' (One night of forgiveness was heavy over a long age of punishment). 

Yakub was guilty of colluding with the Bombay blasts. I will not justify the blasts as a fallout to the 1992 riots. But when he surrendered with family in 1994 he cooperated with the investigation agencies to nab the terror network in Pakistan like never before. He did all this because he wanted to be forgiven. Until a few hours before he was hanged he was beseeching the Court for mercy. After keeping a man for 22 years in jail when he had admitted his crime how could a nation with a glorious history of extolling the virtues of magnanimity, not forgive its own citizen? 

I would personally forgive any such convict for the sake of his 25 day old daughter with whom he walked in to his country and surrendered. Even if i was not the judge or the President. Even if someone close to me had died in the blasts. Even if it was the Islamic Shariah and I had the right to behead or accept his apology.

As I write this a primary school in the neighborhood is gathered in its grounds for the morning assembly. The proceedings are blared out through the window to my living room. (They seem to be in need of more funds to replace their awful PA system) The Jamia Urdu Public School on the Medical road in Aligarh has 90% Muslim children. I can hear a teenage boy's just cracked voice leading the school crowd in prayer. They sang Allama Iqbal's 'Lab pe aati hai dua......' in which the great poet of the east implores to Allah to make him the source of beauty in his nation - ho mere dam se yun hi mere watan ki zeenat. 

The school cheers. News is read in English. The heavily loaded desi accent lurks in the air and all students are called to stand in attention. Jan gan man ......... Jai hay....bharat bhagya vidhata.... the lines by Guru Dev  (On my 10 day visit to Vishwa Bharti for a National Integration Camp through NSS, I found no one in Shanti Niketan refers to him as Rabindra Nath Tagore) are sung by all children. Wish he penned in Gitanjali some anthem of 'collective conscious' that embodied his philosophy of practicing restraint before making  a God out of nationalism! We would have sung that too without knowing its meaning like we sing the National Anthem without appreciating the diversity of India. 

It fills my ears. 

I close my eyes.

No I am not back to my school.

I am nauseated untangling the theories of us educationists in Sir Syed's Chaman who shout from rooftops that education is the panacea for all the plights of the decimated Muslim community? Yakub must have gone to a good school. He was a CA. He wrote his petitions in flawless English and fairly well articulated his point in the last interview he gave. He too must have sang the national anthem some time. Then Babri masjid demolition and its aftermath happened. 

Those who originated the controversy are still reaping political gains to the optimum. From 2 LS seats in 1984 they rose to 84 suddenly and the continued ploy of divisive politics has accrued overwhelming victories for them. Probably in their intoxication with power they do not sense the diminishing faith of the Muslim community in the government. 

Oh yes, another simile between Yakub and a great man. Its his 53rd birthday. Didn't the Prophet Muhammad die the same day as his birthday? Only he was not executed for owning a car that belonged to his brother who aided and abetted a series of blasts that were a repercussion to a nation wide killing of Muslims because a mosque was razed to ground by supporters of a mainstream political party in a Democratic country proclaiming  religious freedom, equal rights and secularism.

I think the President failed to sign Mr. Memon's mercy petitions because some entity Mightier than him had accepted his repentance. 22 years of good behavior and repentance in prison ended in a peaceful death for Yakub of Mumbai in his home land with the name of Allah on his lips. He was bathed and clothed in clean new simple clothes. He had said a last good bye to his friends in jail and some of them had refused a meal grieving for him.

His lungs were filled with the moist air of the rain forests Maharashtra's western ghat's. The last sight his eyes were set upon before closing for ever were the lush evergreen landscapes rising to a monsoon morning. Finally resting for eternity at a low key, somber funeral enacted by family. That may be a Muslim's reward for realizing the love for his country and its people. He had more than atoned for his sin. What more for expiation.

All the best to the children who just sang Jan gan man after lab pe aati hai dua at school and are now learning in math and English classes. All the best to their parents dreaming for their bright future. You may not always get what you worked for. Wait for the original balance to be restored. Spend your evening in play grounds kids. 

This world is ephemeral. Tomorrow the playgrounds may be usurped by real estate. India has moved from its spiritual past to cheap consumerism. My prayer for today is Nida Fazli's doha sung by Jagjit Singh:

Soch samajh walon ko thori nadani de Maula

(Give some ignorance My Lord to those who think and understand)

30 July 2015